>>2948098
Twitter: https://twitter.com/OuroQM
Ask: https://ask.fm/OuroQM

Archives: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Court%20of%20Swords%20Quest

>>2948098
It’s a beautiful day outside as always, the morning fog having receded and the deep water chill that rises from the canals every night has been banished. The sky is mostly clear and that’s hardly unusual. Most clouds don’t rise as high as the City. The light from the sky above meets the light reflected up from the water below and Aquitae Cogituum is painted every shade of daylight.
It is a perfect day for relaxation, rest and romance.

Currently you are doing none of those things.

You wipe the sweat from your face as you ready yourself into an en garde position once more, one foot in front of the other. You lift your front foot up and keep it a few inches above the ground. And then, using only your back leg, you jump as far forward as you can. The distance isn’t quite as important as the direction and you land balanced on the same back foot with your front still held up off the ground.

...Bah. A full foot off your personal best. You give your leg a shake and try to keep count. That’s been...what? A full fifteen broad jumps off your left leg? A good time to switch as ever. You take up the en garde position once more but this time with your left leg forward. Another fifteen jumps in this position and then maybe another fifteen of jumps with mixed footings and you’ll be ready to stop. After that you can move to standing long jumps and then after that, reverse long jumps.
The most important aspect in duelling isn’t prolonged strength or endurance, it’s being able to summon up brief but explosive bursts of power. The duels themselves are rarely long but they tax every single part of your body. You do these jumps nearly every day to ensure that when the day comes, you’ll be able to lunge, pull distance and disengage from nearly any position with as much speed as possible.

And once you’re done with all these jumps, you’ll have almost finished the legs portion of your training regime!

You make another jump and in doing so, slam your foot up against the weighted ball left rolling around from your previous exercises. The ball is covered in tattered leather and looks deceptively light, though anyone picking it up would soon find that it’s stuffed with weights. It was one of the first things your instructor ever gave to you.
“Toss this as hard and as fast as you can.” Lanzo had said after you had complained about the initial lack of swords in your fencing training. “If you can do that fifteen times in a row, you can thrust a sword at the speeds you’ll need.”

You did it sixty times earlier this morning. You’ve sure come a long way since then! And the ball itself, once seen by you as an instrument of some ghastly torture, has become as a treasured companion since. You’ve known this ball longer than you’ve known most of your friends.
And that’s why you don’t swear at it when you trip over it mid-landing and tumble face first into the ground.

1/2

>>2948104
You hit the floor hard enough to split the skin of your nose and for a few moments you just sort of...lie there in a small pool of your own blood. Ah, is this it? Has death finally come to release you from the torture called life? But it is not so.

Your name is Sofia Pseudonym and you are a duellist employed by the City, paid a monthly salary to defend those who cannot afford a professional to represent them in the trials by combat. It’s been almost a week since you defeated Signore Albero and saved a woman from transforming into a wasp and dying. You are invincible and undefeated and you really don’t feel like finishing your training regime anymore.

A large raven, one of the City’s excruciatingly temporary birds, flies in through your open window and starts to investigate your prone form. It pecks you in the head, no doubt checking to see if it can begin to eat you and you don’t respond. Your muscles ache, your head hurts and you feel like becoming a lump of inanimate matter.

But as much as you might wish, you’re a person. And so you have to do something eventually.


>Grab the raven. After what happened to your fishing attempt, you’ll gladly take any meat you don’t have to buy.

>Momentary doldrums are no excuse. If you finish your training for the day you’ll feel better.

>It’s been seven days without a summons. There isn’t going to be one today. You can just curl up in bed and spend the day reading.

>Stagger out into the street below. You need to get out of your room, you’ve been cooped up in here long enough that you’ve started to go weird.

>Other (Specify)

>>2948108
>Grab the raven

Into the pot it goes.

>>2948108
>>Momentary doldrums are no excuse. If you finish your training for the day you’ll feel better.

Lanzo didn't raise no quitter. Except for that time we quit fishing.

>>2948108
>>Grab the raven. After what happened to your fishing attempt, you’ll gladly take any meat you don’t have to buy.
>>Momentary doldrums are no excuse. If you finish your training for the day you’ll feel better.

Wrong house fool

Vote called, writing.

>Grab the raven. After what happened to your fishing attempt, you’ll gladly take any meat you don’t have to buy.
>Momentary doldrums are no excuse. If you finish your training for the day you’ll feel better.

Well, it’s settled. You can’t let post-training doldrums get the best of you! Just because you’ve had nothing to do for almost a week now doesn’t mean you can just sit around and let yourself get slack! You’re going to finish your training. You’re not going to get dissuaded by just a little nosebleed.

But before you do any of that…

Your hand snakes out as quick as blinking, grabbing the raven by the throat! The large and ragged bird screams out but you pull it close. It’s a writhing bundle of feathers and sharp edges but you keep it hugged tight to your chest to make sure that even if it squirms out of your hands, it won’t get away.
“Wrong house buddy!”

Looks like you’ve got your hands on some free meat. You’ve eaten raven before, though you’ve never personally prepared it. But if you’re going to kill it, you’ll have to do it quickly before it vanishes. You rise to your feet and, protesting bird still entombed within your grasp, hobble over to the table upon which your sword is resting. It’s finished its daily sharpening.
You don’t own a knife so it’s going to have to be this!

The raven gazes up at you with its adorable little eyes, beady little ptis of seething hatred and fear. Can you really do this to an adorable little animal?


>Yes.

>Yes but you should probably let someone else pluck it and prepare it. Maybe one of the street vendors down below can do it?

>Maybe you could keep it as a temporary pet instead.

>>2948213
>Cage it and sell it as a pet.

>>2948226
Supporting

>>2948213
>>Yes but you should probably let someone else pluck it and prepare it. Maybe one of the street vendors down below can do it?
Girl's gotta eat.

Vote called, writing!

>>2948213
>Maybe you could keep it as a temporary pet instead.

>Cage it and try to sell it as a pet.

No, the way it’s desperately trying to escape from your hug is simply too adorable. You can’t eat it! And besides, you’ve never plucked and cooked a bird on your own before. You’d have to ask someone to do it for you or otherwise tempt disaster.
No, it’d be better to keep this little thing as a temporary pet. Or better yet...maybe you can’t save money on it but you just [/i]might[/i] be able to make money from it instead.

You have an empty birdcage sitting in the corner of your cluttered and messy apartment, a leftover relic from a time when you had ambushed birds beforehand. It hadn’t been so much to capture them back then of course, just to keep them here until they disappeared.
Still clutching the struggling bird to your chest with one hand, you open the birdcage with the other. It takes a bit of work but you eventually push the raven inside.

And there you have it! A reasonably exotic bird with a majestic black plumage and a sour expression. You don’t see too many ravens around here so someone probably wants one. But there’s just one problem. Everyone knows that most birds are temporary. So how the shit are you going to trick anyone into paying you money for it?


>You have your ways. And byways, you mean that you can bully anyone reasonably polite into doing a lot of various things. You don’t even need to think of any elaborate lie.

>Maybe you can claim that it’s a genuine travelling bird that’s flown up from the Lesser Realms all by itself. It’s not a temporary bird!

>You can say that you got it from a merchant from the Lesser Realms. It’s a real bird they physically brought up with them.

>They’d be suspicious of a bird but what if you told them that it was originally a fish or an eel or a person that a passing lawyer had decreed to be a raven instead?

>Surely nobody is immune to your seductive wiles…

>Other (Specify)

>>2948272
>Talk the bird, see if it knows any tricks.
if not

>You can say that you got it from a merchant from the Lesser Realms. It’s a real bird they physically brought up with them.

>>2948272
This bird is going to be temporary anyways right? It's just going to poof away after an amount of time after we sell it?

>>2948283
Yes. Hopefully after you get money for it.

>>2948272
>They’d be suspicious of a bird but what if you told them that it was originally a fish or an eel or a person that a passing lawyer had decreed to be a raven instead?

I don't approve of this you swindlers. Could've just ate the thing.

>>2948272
>You can say that you got it from a merchant from the Lesser Realms. It’s a real bird they physically brought up with them.

If the bird is temporary one you kill it it won't disappear?

>>2948298
Nah, dead birds are permanent.

Vote called, writing.

>You can say that you got it from a merchant from the Lesser Realms. It’s a real bird they physically brought up with them.

So you’re committed to it then. You’re going to try and trick someone out of their money in order to get this bird off your hands. As long as you can sell it before the raven vanishes, you should be able to get a coin or two out of this!
But you can’t let on that it’s a temporary bird. But you’re pretty sure ravens don’t fly this high so it’d be hard to say it came here naturally. So what if you just tell them that you bought it off a traveller from the Lesser Realms? You might be able to do something with that.

But you’ll need to do it quick. This bird is liable to evaporate if you spend too much time dawdling.

“Sorry about the cage little guy,” you say absent mindedly as you pick the birdcage up and walk towards the door. “But I’m not, not really. You’re just a bird.”

You’re already out on the street before you realize that you’re still in your training outfit, barefoot with loose breeches and an equally loose blouse with only a jockbra beneath. You forgot to get changed! Not to mention that you’re absolutely drenched in sweat and there may or may not be at least one raven feather sticking out of the tousled mess that is your hair.
But if you’re only going to be in and out, you suppose it doesn’t matter. Who’s going to say you ever looked anything but radiant? It might be a little scandalous but you are, quite comprehensively so, immune to scandal.

You’re sure nobody you care about will see you.

You wander out onto the canal, caged raven in hand, probably looking like some flavour of tired insanity. You must look so fearsome that not even Greta approaches you for her usual godjob and the crowd thins as you move through it.
“Bird! I’ve got a bird to sell! Keep it, eat it, do whatever you want with it! It’s a raven, a real one, fresh from a foreign merchant! If it disappears, your money back!”
It will disappear of course! But it’s not like anyone can ever demand a refund from you. And while those who are aware of your condition would never take you up on the offer, there’s a lot of people who have no idea about your pale words or lack thereof.

“Good morning, Signorina,” an older man says. He looks you up and down with a leer. “I’ll give you three coins for the genuine raven.”

That stops you. Three coins? Surely that’s too much. What’s his deal? Hrmph. Looking at the way he’s looking at you, he probably plans on buying it and then pretending that it disappeared to try and fleece you for a bigger refund. You’re aware of the scam. No genuine feather-seller wants to be tarred with the accusation of selling native birds after all, just holding that over their head can be enough to make more than you paid.
And, quite evidently, he also musn’t know who you are. If he did know, he wouldn’t have even dared.

1/2

>>2948369
>It’s not worth getting involved with an actual criminal.

>Do it. He thinks he's going to con the conner but little does he know that there's a third layer to this recursive mess of a cheat.

>>2948369
>It’s not worth getting involved with an actual criminal.

>>2948369
>>It’s not worth getting involved with an actual criminal.

Vote called, writing.

>It’s not worth getting involved with an actual criminal.

On the other hand, is it worth getting involved with an actual criminal? He might not be someone who only relies on words after all and while your curse is adept at crushing any purely social situation, it doesn’t stop someone from trying to steal your stuff or even just hitting you. Of course, if they wanted to get violent you’d have a surprise for them. But wouldn’t it be better to just avoid that situation altogether?

“No,” you tell him bluntly and drag the cage away from him, the raven still screaming constantly. “I uh, only sell birds to enthusiasts.”

“You do?”

“And I can’t tell you’re not one! So please kind Signore, emulate the birds of our fine city and disappear.”

Selling the raven to someone who isn’t try to cheat the cheater is actually pretty hard! No matter what people say, it seems like they’re not buying your lie, especially when it’s spoken by someone as disreputable looking as you. Now you could lean on them a little and start phrasing your offers in stricter terms...After all, nobody is capable of actually telling you ‘No’. As long as people are willing to stand by their words, you can force a lot of things on them.
But you’re not here to be a tyrant. You’re here to sell this fucking bird. And you’re going to do honestly! Mostly honestly.

“Genuine raven here! Fresh import from the Lesser Realms. These eyes have seen witness to all kinds of exotic battlefields! It has tasted the blood of me-”

“Sofia? Is that you?”

“Eh?”

You turn as someone calls out to you and you instantly see a man through the crowd. There are a few reasons you see him so easily. He’s pretty distinctive! Is it because of the cloak he’s wearing, a spotless red contraption of silk that looks elegant and beautiful and entirely useless as an actual cloak? Is it the gloriously ruffled shirt that hangs off a thick and superbly muscled chest? Is it his hair, a black mane tied into a low ponytail that puts your own hasty assemblage to shame? Is it the face, a wide-jawed and aquiline visage dominated by a pair of almost comically undersized spectacles?
No. Of course it’s not any of those things. You pick him out from the crowd immediately because he’s seven and a fucking half feet tall.

“Maccio?”
Why the shit is he here? You thought you’d never see him again!

The crowd parts for him, if only because the alternative would be to be pushed aside as water is pushed before a boat. You barely notice the crow sticking its head through the bars to try and eat your nose as you take a step back.
It’s not like you’re afraid of Maccio or anything, at least, not anymore! But his stature is such that it’s a primal instinct to back away. It’s like you’re afraid of being stood on.
1/2

>>2948520
You catch yourself and stand your ground as he approaches, the two of you standing in the middle of the canal. You do your best to look resolute and, in a desire not to acknowledge the absurd difference between the two of you, look straight ahead instead of craning your neck up. You end up staring him firmly in the abdomen as a result.

“Sofia, it is good to see you again.”

“Ah yeah, same.”
You wonder if he means it.
“But what’s a man like you doing in a place like this?”

“Why else? I’ve come to visit you.”

He has? Really? Out of his own free will? Then does that mean...he actually likes you as a person? If he had just been forced to lie the whole time, he would have never sought you out, right? So what if he really actually likes you? Or...what if he likes you?
Have all your coins in the D’Amare fountain finally paid off? Has Maccio come to court you, to lay siege to your heart? Is this the start of a whirlwind romance?

And you’re dressed...like this.


>”Excuse me for a moment. I need to go change.”

>”You came back! Come on, let’s go to my room.”

>”I’m sorry Maccio. My heart is promised to another.”

>”So why are you here?” Maybe you should keep your feet on the ground.

>Ask about his brothers.

>"Do you want me to kick your butt again?"

>”Maccio! My proud yet shackled lion!”

>Other (Specify)

>>2948522
>”Maccio! My proud yet shackled lion!”

>>2948522
>>”Excuse me for a moment. I need to go change.”

>>2948522
"How have you been?"

>>2948522
>”You came back! Come on, let’s go to my room.”
>Walk and talk, apologize to the state of our dress and ask if his brother has been not blabbing secrets.
>Also ask why he came in particular, does he need something?

>If you want a date, you'll have to defeat this raven to get it.

Hrm, it's still kind of a tie but it's been almost an hour so I'll call it regardless. Writing.

Whoops, I dozed off for a few minutes there. My bad.

>Babble.

You don’t know what to say. No seriously, you’re so gobsmacked by the sheer possibility that you can’t think of what to say. The idea of being courted by Maccio is so shocking and yet...so alluring. Isn’t he a true gentleman? A paragon of physicality and education and wealthy to boot. And to top it all off, you can beat him in a swordfight rather easily so with that and your curse, you’d always be wearing the breeches in the relationship. Yes, no matter how tempting it would be to succumb to his bestial advances…
If you open your mouth right now, you’re just going to spew a flood of nonsense. And damn it, that’s just what you’re going to do.

“Maccio! My proud yet shackled lion?”

He stops, looking a little puzzled. Or you think he is. You don’t really have a very good angle to see his face when he’s this close.
“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, sorry, I need to go change. Excuse me.”
A devilish idea sparks itself in your mind.
“Actually, you can come with me back up to my room. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.”
What else can he say?

And so once more, Maccio finds himself locked in your bedroom with you. This could get risque. Maybe...you could even do another puzzle together.

“So how have you been?,” you say, searching through your piles of clean clothing strewn about the floor. “Has Ormanno kept his side of our little bargain?”

“All has been well, thank you for asking. Why are you carrying around a caged crow?”

“It’s a raven actually. And…”
For some reason you don’t want to admit your true intentions with the bird to Maccio. Wouldn’t that make him think less of you? Here he is, ready to admit his love, and you want to tell him you were planning on grifting someone with a temporary bird? He would absolutely think ill of you and...and you’d never be able to tell. Your destined romance would be poisoned before it ever began.
“”And it’s mine. It’s my pet. My guardian actually,” you say, stringing words together hopelessly. “If you want to date me, you must defeat him!”

Why did you say that?

Maccio just chuckles softly.
“I didn’t come here to ask you on a date, Sofia, as pleasurable as that would be.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a little bit of an embarrassing question actually. Did you know that I consider myself a bit of an aspiring artist?”

“Really? That’s nice. Me too.”

“Well I would never be able to match your skill,” he says, staring at your jumbled up pictures. “But I have a liking for portraits. Sofia, would you do me the honor of being my model?”

Ah. Well...that’s still romantic, isn’t it?

1/2

File: sofiaOP2.jpg (38 KB, 838x410)

38 KB JPG

>>2948824
>”Admit it. You’re here to court me with this offer. And I accept!”

>”It’s not going to involve any artistic nudity, is it?”

>”No thanks. Pictures of myself make me uncomfortable.” Decline.

>”Is there some sort of ulterior motive I should know about this?”

>Accept. Why would you refuse?

>Other (Specify)

>>2948824
>”No thanks. Pictures of myself make me uncomfortable.” Decline.

>>2948834
>I am flattered, may I ask why?
>As long as I can veto any poses I am uncomfortable with and meet my requirements as a official duelist for the court? I Agree.

>>2948834
>Accept. Why would you refuse?
"I'm guessing you want me in the duel attire yeah?"

>>2948834
>Accept. Why would you refuse?

>>2948834
>>Accept. Why would you refuse?
What could go wrong? Don't answer that.

>>2948834
>>”No thanks. Pictures of myself make me uncomfortable.” Decline.

Vote called, writing.

>Accept. Why would you refuse?

Why would you refuse? It might not have been exactly what you had been hoping for but you won’t force the issue. And you know you could force it. For all his bulk and brains and physical power, you could easily back Maccio into a corner and make him admit that he has come to ask for your hand. You could even, with some considerable effort, make him uphold it. You could have him or indeed, almost any man or woman in the City, and it wouldn’t even be all that difficult. What would he do? Tell people that you made him do it?
But those are tyrant thoughts and above that, you want to be one swept off her feet here. It wouldn’t be the same at all. You’re not ready to abandon reality to live purely within the lie just yet.

“Of course, I’d be flattered! As long as you don’t want anything weird, of course!”
You have a bit of an aversion to pictures of yourself, you admit, but that’s fine. You’re happy to do it for Maccio.

“I just want a picture of you in your duelling outfit with your sword. The first sitting shouldn’t take too long.”

“The...first?”

“Naturally. I’m not going to finish the painting all at once, you’ll have to come in for multiple sessions.”

“Oh, that’s even better! But just know that any scheduling comes second to my job, alright? And I have another question. Can I ask why?”

Maccio bends down a little so that he’s closer to your eye-level. He’s still much taller than you.
“I simply had the inspiration for it after our duel. Does there need to be another reason? d’Vallerno once said that it comes and goes as a mistress in the night, leaving neither explanation or intent. The creative urge is a blind and witless thing. And, of course, I certainly had nothing against seeing you more.”

Well, you suppose that’s sweet in its own right. But is he being honest with you? Is the world being honest with you? Is inspiration all there is? Do you put faith in the lie that he truly wants to see you again?

>Believe.

>Disbelieve.

>>2948932
>>Disbelieve.

>>2948932
>Believe
>>But ask what form his inspiration will take.

>>2948932
>Disbelieve.
>Think he has to have fallen for us instead.

>>2948932
>>Disbelieve.
>>Think he has to have fallen for us instead.

>>2948988
>>2948993
ok samefag, the fuck are you doing?

>>2948996
Rude, I just have the same opinion as his.

Vote called, writing.

>>2949001
>Both were 1uid votes
>Within a minute of each other


what's worse is that you're turning disbelieve into an option it wasn't.

Well if it's a matter of consternation, I'll settle this with a second vote to elaborate on things in just a moment.

>Disbelieve

No. You don’t believe this. You’re initially not sure why you don’t but after a moment, it occurs to you. Despite your confessions to the contrary, you’ve never been the creative type. After all you’re only good at tyranny and the sword, everything else you’ve taken from people. If inspiration really works like that...well, you wouldn’t know it because you’ve never felt it.

But would he really come all the way to you just for that? Just to satisfy an errant whim? You can’t really believe that and more importantly, you don’t want to. You want to think that you’re more important than that.
As you think it over, the crow in the cage vanishes in a puff of light. Your dreams of grifting have gone the way of your dreams of fishing.

“I don’t believe you,” you say.


>”Has my curse forced you into this somehow? Is your true purpose something you cannot say?”

>”I understand, you’re too embarrassed to say because it’s not what your family would want. You’ve fallen for me haven’t you?”

>”I can believe you about the painting. But I think you’re getting something out of this painting than just creative satisfaction.”

>”I don’t think my curse would force this. But is it about the curse regardless?” After all besides the duels, the curse is your only notable feature.

>Other (Specify)

>>2949035
>>”I understand, you’re too embarrassed to say because it’s not what your family would want. You’ve fallen for me haven’t you?”

>>2949035
>>”Has my curse forced you into this somehow? Is your true purpose something you cannot say?”
>>2949038
In all likelihood he's gay as fuck dude. That'd be one of a handful of secrets his brother would use on him. Doubly likely because he's an artist.

>>2949035
>>>”Has my curse forced you into this somehow? Is your true purpose something you cannot say?”

>>2949035
>>”I understand, you’re too embarrassed to say because it’s not what your family would want. You’ve fallen for me haven’t you?”

>>2949035
>>”Has my curse forced you into this somehow? Is your true purpose something you cannot say?”

Vote called, writing.

>”Has my curse forced you into this somehow? Is your true purpose something you cannot say?”

“Something’s wrong about this,” you continue. “I’m more important than some mere whim and we both know that. I’ll believe you about inspiration. But I don’t think that’s all there is.”

Maccio takes his spectacles off and, clutching them gently in a massive hand, begins to polish them with an embroidered handkerchief.
“Is that so? I didn’t come here with an ulterior motive. Do you think I only want to see you because of your birthright? That’s not how it works.”

“I know that,” you say. “But if you want something that’s derogatory or harmful to me, it would be hard for you to tell me. I mean, am I not the most beautiful woman in the City?”

“You are.”

“And the wittiest?”

“Correct.”

“And utterly invincible in contests of the blade?”

“Yes.”

“If your purpose runs counter to any of those statements, you wouldn’t be able to tell me unless you found a really inventive way to phrase it. The same goes for anything that would imply that I’m dishonest, disreputable or in any way deserving of doubt. Which, fortunately, you should never need to say anyway since I am none of those things.”
Your own words are shackled almost as tightly as his are. You feel a little bad about that small display of power but you’ll never apologize or even imply that it discomforts you.

Maccio takes deep breath and then sits down in front of you.
“I want to make use of a talent that only you have,” he says cautiously.

“Oh?”

“As you said, your unmatched beauty.”
Now that’s odd. You might both be forced to say it but you both know that you’re hardly the prettiest of women.
“There is an upcoming symposium of certain artistic gentlemen within whose circles I have been known to move. I will be attending and if all goes well and you are willing, I will have my portrait of you in tow. Everyone will be presenting a piece for display and judgement among their peers. And this time, if I may be so bold, I would like to be the one who comes out on top. And I know that a painting of you, with your peerless elegance, poise and splendour, will surely sway their hearts.”

Ah. Ah, you see. So that’s how it is.
“You have certainly done your research,” you say, a touch coldly.

“My brother did, he simply told me. I am sorry for trying to mislead you and I hope there aren’t any hard feelings. Sofia, I am truly thankful for what you did for me and I really did want to see you again. That wasn’t a lie.”

He wants to use you. He knows that an image of you, should it definitely be of you, is above reproach. No pale word can touch the subject of his portrait and by extension, the portrait itself. Any insult on it would be an insult on an image of Sofia Pseudonym. He wants to use you to make a painting that nobody can deny.
This is why you don’t like pictures of yourself.

1/2

>>2949109

And why did you expect anything different? Shouldn't you know by now? You are a tyrant first and foremost. And no matter how you try to act, in the eyes of everyone around you, that is forever how they'll define you.
Maccio wants you for that, not for anyone about yourself.

>”...Fine but I am expecting compensation, both immediate and in the future.”

>”And to think I judged you better. Get out.”

>>2949111
>>”And to think I judged you better. Get out.”

>>2949111
>"Maccio I detest people (trying) using me. The prison in my own head is bad enough. Now a man I had thought if not a paragon of virtue, but at least one who tries to do right by people, does what all the rest come to do. Leave now before I rescind my threat to your brother about your secret.

>>2949010
It was a 1uid vote because it's just morning for me, anon.

>>2949109
I'm disappointed in you, Maccio

>>2949111
Seconding >>2949123

>>2949111
>>”...Fine but I am expecting compensation, both immediate and in the future.”

Vote called, writing.

Alright, I’ve finished eating dinner.

>”And to think I judged you better. Get out.”

He didn’t want you, he just wanted the tyrant. Most people do. When your parents had your judicial godmother give her blessing, the tyrant had been what they’d been picturing. And when Sofia had grown up different from that, she hadn’t been good enough. Even Lea, in your last outing, she’d wanted to know your power secondhand. It must seem so seductive to other people, enough to eclipse you completely. In the eyes of others, the tyrant looms large and how could it not? You hold them all in chains. And they’re all too busy looking at the tyrant that Sofia escapes notice.

Well you’re sick of it. You want it to stop and you don’t have the faintest clue how.
“Maccio,” you say. “I detest people trying to use me. Isn’t every heart a prison bad enough? I thought you a good man but you’re just here to do what everyone else does. Get out. Leave before I change my mind about Ormanno.”
If your voice was any colder the canals below would freeze.

“I’m sorry,” Maccio says but he’s already turning to leave. Maybe he wants to protest, to make a claim or to tell you once again that he wants you. Maybe he just wants to curse your name. But whether through his own heart or through your curse, no such thing comes. He just takes up his cloak, gives you one last sad look and then steps out of your room. Steps out of your life, perhaps.
And you are left standing there, hair twisted, skin sweaty, still dressed in your training outfit. Queen of all you survey.

Alone once again. You had started this morning alone and you are ending it no less but somehow it feels worse. You could have believed the lie. You could have gone along with him and had fun and felt wanted. You could have fooled yourself into thinking you were loved. Even now, if you run after him, you can force yourself into his company and blind yourself. All of that is still there for whenever you want it.
But standing here with your fists clenched, you will not abandon yourself to the dream. Lies are pretty and you’ve never known a truth that didn’t hurt you but still you choose to uncover it everytime. How could you not?

The day stretching ahead of you, which had just before seemed exciting and full of potential misadventures with a friend, has fallen fallow. You’ve nothing to do with yourself.


>Run after Maccio. Maybe he meant his apology. Maybe you can overlook it just this once. Maybe you can make it work.


>Drown yourself in humours.

>Visit a hospital. You’re sick of this feeling, you’re happy to donate it all away.

>Throw yourself into your training.

>Speak to someone you can trust.

>You are going to beat the shit out of that fucking romance fountain.

>Visit yourself upon the courts of High Law and heckle the shit out of some lawyers.

>Other (Specify)

>>2949167
>Run after Maccio. Maybe he meant his apology. Maybe you can overlook it just this once. Maybe you can make it work.

>>2949167
>>Run after Maccio. Maybe he meant his apology. Maybe you can overlook it just this once. Maybe you can make it work
Give him one final chance

>>2949167
>>Throw yourself into your training.

>>2949167
>>Throw yourself into your training.

>>2949167
>Run after Maccio. Maybe he meant his apology. Maybe you can overlook it just this once. Maybe you can make it work.

Vote called, writing.

>>2949167
>Throw yourself into your training.
>Visit a hospital. You’re sick of this feeling, you’re happy to donate it all away.
I wanted to husbando Maccio, but after this...

>>2949208
Damn you, captcha!

>Run after Maccio. Maybe he meant his apology. Maybe you can overlook it just this once. Maybe you can make it work.

Wait, what was that thought you just had? That even now you could still run after him and no matter his feelings, you could return everything to how it was. Everyone else has to go along with you after all, they don’t have a say in the matter. So because of that, the only person you really need to fool is yourself. You are the only person who has to believe anything you say. After all, what everyone else says is just fiction either way.
So maybe you can do that. Just this once, you can let yourself be fooled.

And maybe Maccio means well. Maybe his apology was well-meant. Maybe he was simply thoughtless and had no idea what such behaviour meant to you. You can’t tell. He will say sorry no matter his true feelings on the matter. Whether he thinks of you as a friend or as a tool, your curse dictates that both possible Maccio’s say the same things.
This mystery will never be solved. It can’t be solved. But when faced with the void, you can close your eyes and trick yourself into thinking that it can.

He’s still out there, you know. Nothing is beyond the grasp of the tyrant. You can reach out and have him. If you’re alone it’s by your own choice.

You catch him in the stairwell. He stops as he hears you run down the stairs. You haven’t gotten changed, you’re still the same as you ever was. In clothes and in person.
“Maccio!”

“Sofia! I really am sorr-”

“Be quiet.”
You stop when you’re several stairs above him so that you can finally look him in the eye. You wonder, what does he see when he looks into your eyes? Can he see anything beyond the pale pink irises? Can he see how desperate you feel?
“You have apologised. You don’t have to say it more than once. Now just listen to me. I’m willing to overlook this. But…”


>Exert your authority. You don’t want to do this but if you are to remain friends, he needs to understand who makes the decisions here.

>”You need to tell me everything. And that includes that secret of yours. If you can do this, I’ll trust you.”

>”I expect compensation. I’ll do the damn painting and you can even do with it whatever you want but you will pay me.”

>”If you ever try anything like that again, I will be very upset. It’ll make my threat against your brother look like nothing.”

>”I want to believe you. I don’t need anything more. No conditions.”


>”...I’m sick of talking. Come train with me.”

>Other (Specify)

>>2949230
>>>”If you ever try anything like that again, I will be very upset. It’ll make my threat against your brother look like nothing.”

I understand people that want nothing to do with him not voting, but what happened to the rest?

>>2949258
Well, these are pretty bad hours for most of the world, it's usually a dead zone at this time every night. I'm going to rest for a few hours myself and come back in a bit.
Vote will remain open until then.

>>2949230
>you must be honest about your intentions. I´m not my curse and you need to understand that. Everyone needs people to believe in and I´m no exception. Do you undestand?

Follow it with:

Now, I was thinking of training, together perhaps, but if you want we could go along your idea of the portrait. What would you prefer?

>>2949230
Seconding >>2949314

>>2949230
>”If you ever try anything like that again, I will be very upset. It’ll make my threat against your brother look like nothing.”

>>2949230
>I am not my curse, people using me for it hurts. Now, i am going to train. While I am you can tell me why this is so important to you and perhaps train with me.

Alright, I'm back. Vote called and writing.

>>2949258
I just woke up

>>2949383
>>2949230
I'll second this even though I know I'm too late

>”I am not my curse.”

“But you must be honest about your intentions from now on. I’m not my curse and people like you using me for it hurts. Everyone needs people to believe in and not even I am entirely without need of that. Do you understand?”

He’s still meeting your gaze, his face the very image of contrition.
“I am. I didn’t mean to do that, I just didn’t consider how you might have felt.”

“That’s fine.”
You won’t say you might have overreacted and this time not just because your curse would stop you. He needed to be shown just how much of an issue this is to you.
“Just don’t say sorry about it again. It’s in the past. Now I was thinking of training, together perhaps, but if you want we could go along with your idea about the portrait.”

“No,” he says abruptly. “The symposium isn’t that important. But I’d be very interested in seeing a duellist’s training regime.”

“I thought you had some training.”

“I do. But to be honest, I’ve never had to try particularly hard at anything related to the body. Out fight last week was a real wake-up call. So I’d like to see what an authentic duellist does with her training.”

“I thought you didn’t want to pursue this little hobby of yours.”

“Barely a hobby even. But you opened my eyes that I can’t just rely on my size for everything. It’d be irresponsible of me not to take an opportunity to improve.”

By this point, the two of you are standing in front of your door and you slide it open once more, Maccio hunching down just to fit through. So that’s it, huh? You’re going to be training together? Isn’t that roman-Wait no! You’re still mad at him!

By the time you recover your thoughts and step inside, Maccio has stripped down to the waist. That sure isn’t helping.

“I’ve already done a lot of mine,” you say, picking up the weighted ball and tossing it to him. That’s not something you’d normally do to someone but he catches it in one hand easily. “But I guess I can do an extra long training session, maybe even a full day. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got with that ball?”

Maccio has the good grace to look embarrassed as he bounces the ball from hand to hand as if it weighed nothing at all.
“I remember using some of these but mine were…considerably heavier.”

Oh right.
“Well, scratch the strength stuff I guess. But check this out.”
You balance on one leg and do a slow one-legged squat, doing your best to maintain a perfect angle throughout both descent and ascent. \
“I noticed during our duel that you had trouble moving as best as you should be able to. I mean, look at your legs! You should be rocketing around but you were stumbling instead. The key to this type of squat is technique, not leg strength, so give it a go. Give me ten per leg to start off so I can tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

1/3

>>2949427
Maccio begins but pauses when he sees you pull out a thin willow switch. Long and springy, just holding it brings back memories of aching muscles and lashing pain.
“What is the purpose of that?”

“It’s the measurement stick. Every time you get the angle of your back wrong, I prod you with it.”

“...Is that how your instructor taught you?”

You flush bright red. Oh no, you just did something weird didn’t you? Come to think of it, Lanzo used to lash you because he was incapable of pointing out improper form to you. He did that as a substitute, so you’d know to correct your technique every time he hit you. But you can just tell Maccio, can’t you?
You put the switch away and try to pretend that you never pulled it out.
“Never mind.”

“Why is the angle so important in this anyway?”

“The purpose of this squat,” you say, happier to be back on safer ground, “is to make sure that you can go from a one-legged stand to a quick squat and back without losing balance! Since you’re always moving in a duel, odds are that you’ll only have firm footing with one leg when the time comes for you to pull distance or lunge. And both of these are helped by a squat! It’s the perfect launching position to maximize your leg muscles! Now, don’t try to do what I did right away, I do mine really deep. You can start shallow.”

People put a lot of stock in the arms since they’re what propels the sabre but as far as you’re concerned? The true power of a duellist is in the legs and thighs.

*****

As your training continues, a single unexpected emotion begins to crystallize. It’s not something you were expecting to feel but you guess if it’s Maccio it makes sense. And what is that emotion, pray tell? Jealousy. You’re not sure when it set in. Was it when you had to stop the vertical jumps lest he hit the roof each time? Was it when he broke one of your training bands? Or maybe it was back when he took your old nemesis/companion, the weighted ball, and tossed it around as if it was a child’s toy.
The truth is, no matter how much trouble Maccio has some of your exercises, he never seems to truly tire. You’re more tired than he is and you’re only acting as example and instructor, though at least you have the excuse of having already gone through this regime just a little earlier.
But isn’t it a little bit unfair? Maccio is a learned man and apparently an artist but in addition to that he was born absolutely fucking massive, with reserves no ordinary person can hope to challenge. And he was born rich on top of everything else! It feels like he’s not even really human and you have to admit, despite your own considerable advantages and your victory over him, you are envious of just how easy every aspect of life must be for him. Physical, mental, financial, he has it all.

2/3

>>2949430
“This doesn’t seem possible,” you say, huffing as you collapse out of your plank pose while he remains as still as ever. Granted, he’s using both his arms while you only used one but it’s not like you stopped because of a balance issue. “Even for a big guy like you, this is a bit silly.”

“I wasn’t just born this way,” Maccio admits. “But as Toxilus says in his Treatise On The Spirit, we are defined by nothing more than habit. We are our actions. We are what we repeatedly do. And though he was talking about moral virtue, it’s just as applicable to the body. So I do my very best to keep every aspect of myself in shape.”

You let your eyes roam across his back. It’s still a little shock every now and then how big he is, as if your mind is fooled into thinking he’s simply very far away or the like. But while your gaze is hungry, it is not in the way you’d think it is.
Watching this, muscles aching and head swimming, you are filled with a want. You want a scrap of his power. You want to take it.

“I still have your doublet,” you say. “I wore it in my last duel.”

“What about it?”

“I was just wondering if I could make you give up anything else.”


>Challenge him to a contest of some sort. You want another trophy!

>”I want your money. Give me some and I’ll even sit for that painting.”

>”Never mind. Just this is fine for now.”

>Other (Specify)

>>2949432
>Challenge him to a contest of some sort. You want another trophy!
Puzzles! I'm partially kidding.

>>2949432
>Well for one, it was my first duel against an actual duelist for the court, one I won handily.
>Two, care for another duel? Your size strength and Stamina are unreal, so I want to see how much of this stuck.

>>2949432
>>Challenge him to a contest of some sort. You want another trophy!
>A race to a particular fountain...

I'm thinking of either the d'Amore (hint hint) or some other interesting fountain Ouro comes up with.

Vote called, writing.

>Challenge him to a contest of some sort. You want another trophy!

“That’s it,” you declare. “I want to learn more from you. So I’m going to take another trophy now.”

Maccio relaxes, lying down just a few feet from your seated form.
“How does that work?”

“I can learn anything if I have a trophy. But it has to be fairly won in some sort of contest. You can’t give it to me. So Maccio, I want you to give this your all.”

>Sofia’s Monkey Sight allows her to emulate skills, techniques, talents, physical attributes and metaphysical qualities. They are generally related to either the contest in question or to the trophy she takes. Duelling Techniques can only be taken as trophies from duels.


>A swordfight. You’re a little tired but you should be fine!

>A race to a fountain of your choice. The workout has left you tired but you’re still confident in your speed, if nothing else.

>A picture puzzle! Shouldn’t this truly be your element?

>You know a nearby park with a lot of gameboards set up near-constantly. Wouldn’t one of those be fun?

>Other (Specify)

>>2949432
One second. If we take that from him, can he still use it?

>>2949470
>A race to a fountain of your choice. The workout has left you tired but you’re still confident in your speed, if nothing else.

Well we wanted his stamina right?

>>2949474
Of course! Sofia phrases it as 'taking' a lot since that's how she sees the world and because she takes a trophy but the actual Monkey Sight is just her copying what she sees. Monkey see, Monkey do.

>>2949432
>”Never mind. Just this is fine for now.”
>It was quite helpful though. Kinda hard to explain.

>>2949470
>You know a nearby park with a lot of gameboards set up near-constantly. Wouldn’t one of those be fun?

>>2949470
>Fishing! WITH SWORDS

File: fleksnek.png (13 KB, 400x400)

13 KB PNG

Anyway, I'm gonna go to sleep now. Vote will remain open until I wake in the morning, at which point I will resume the session.
I hope you all had fun!

>>2949470
>You know a nearby park with a lot of gameboards set up near-constantly. Wouldn’t one of those be fun?

>>2949470
>A race to a fountain of your choice. The workout has left you tired but you’re still confident in your speed, if nothing else.
He'll likely defeat us in games. He's a learned man, after all.

>>2949470
>A race to a fountain of your choice. The workout has left you tired but you’re still confident in your speed, if nothing else.

I'm stuck between gaming and running.

Let's go with running, it was my idea.

>>2949470
>Run!

Whoops, I overslept a little! Vote called, thread will resume soon.

>A race to a fountain of your choice. The workout has left you tired but you’re still confident in your speed, if nothing else.

“Another duel?,” Maccio asks. “I’m afraid you’d beat me rather easily.”
You agree but you wonder if he actually means that or if it’s just your curse. He has to see how tired you are, right?


“No,” you tell him. “Outside of the Wake? Perish the thought. It’d be unseemly. So instead I’m going to beat you in a footrace!”
It was either that or a game but you guess you’re more confident in your speed. Maccio should be pretty fast too but his size means he won’t be able to get through the places that you can easily.

“Interesting. Where to?”

“A fountain of course. It’ll be like a miniature version of the Fontana Loop!”
Every year, aspirants with too much time on their hands run the streets from fountain to fountain, collecting blessings and coins from passersby. The last fountain is the D’Avvocatto, the central fountain below the High Courts themselves. Whoever finishes it first gets to beg a boon of their choice from the lawyers within.

“Which fountain?”

“Oh…,” you say, not having thought that far ahead.


>D’Amare. It’s just down the road so it’ll be a short run. And maybe Maccio will get the hint…

>The June Moneta. It’s not payday but it’s a medium distance away, it’d be a good urn.

>The Sangadonna, fountain of the bloodless women. It’s a nice long distance and you have a lot of personal history with it.

>The Court of Swords. It’s a very long way away.

>The Augustus Matrimon. It’s all the way across the city, right near the Foreign Circles, but they say that two people who wish upon it together will be legally married.

>>2950628
>>The Sangadonna, fountain of the bloodless women. It’s a nice long distance and you have a lot of personal history with it.

I'm curious about this history.

>>2950628
>D’Amare. It’s just down the road so it’ll be a short run. And maybe Maccio will get the hint…

>>2950628
>>D’Amare. It’s just down the road so it’ll be a short run. And maybe Maccio will get the hint…
or
>The June Moneta. It’s not payday but it’s a medium distance away, it’d be a good urn.

Vote called, writing.

>D’Amare. It’s just down the road so it’ll be a short run. And maybe Maccio will get the hint…

The two of you are standing outside your boarding house. Maccio’s put his shirt back on but you’re still in your increasingly sweaty and dirty training outfit.
“Right down the street,” you say, pointing to the dingy fountain at the corner of the block. “Real close. Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are.”

“Heh. Hey Maccio, do you think you can win?”

“Of course not.”

“Good to see we’re both on the same page. So let’s go….now!”

You start running!

The first and only real obstacle is the crowd. The canal is packed full of people! How are you going to get your way through? Hopefully it slows Maccio down real good because otherwise the advantage in a sprint is all his.


>Just barge your way through like Maccio does!

>Get around the side and try to squirm past along the edge.

>Just follow in Maccio’s wake, let him clear the way for you.

>Pull yourself up onto the awning of a building and run along the top.

>Other (Specify)

>>2950802
>>Pull yourself up onto the awning of a building and run along the top.

>>2950802
>Pull yourself up onto the awning of a building and run along the top.

Vote called, writing.

>Pull yourself up onto the awning of a building and run along the top.

“Ciao bella!,” you call out to Maccio as you take a running leap and grab hold of the awning of a street vendor. You pull yourself up atop it while your opponent struggles his way through the crowd. The vendor below you screams but can only shout encouragement to you.

You run along the top of the stretched canvas, knowing that it’ll likely collapse if you spend too much time upon it. And the moment your lead foot feels the reliable weight of the wooden support beam at the end beneath it, you jump forward towards the side of the building with your arms spinning. One of your hand slaps onto the railing of a balcony and you instantly grab hold, dangling from the railing just above the crowd. So close, in fact, that you have to keep your lower half curled to stop anyone from grabbing hold of your leg.
You don’t bother to try and pull yourself up, it’d just waste time. Instead you nimbly pull yourself forward along the bottom of the railing, one hand after the other as swiftly as you can. Your arms, already strained from all the training, protest with lancing jabs of pain but you ignore them.

Once you reach the end of the balcony, you swing there for a moment, building up momentum. You’re not bad at it! But then again, Lanzo once referred to your duelling style as ‘like a monkey’ and you know he didn’t mean it as an insult. If you believed in such a foreign things as emblematic beasts, which you don’t, you’ve always thought that yours would be a monkey.

Using your swing, you let go and let yourself fall towards the water. It propels you past the bulk of the crowd but you don’t quick stick the landing. You hit the surface of the canal and bounce, skimming across the water like a particularly awkward and ungainly stone.
The moment you stop, you drive a foot into the water hard enough that you actually break the surface for just a moment, just an inch and pull yourself up into a squat. Glancing back, you see Maccio is still having trouble with the crowd. Everyone stopped to watch you so he’s having a hard time.

Good. Because now there’s nothing but a relatively open stretch of water between you and the D’Amare and if all else was equal, Maccio would beat you in a sprint every single time. His legs are just that much longer. You’ll take as much of a headstart as you can get.

You ignore the burning in your knees and thighs as you rise and start to run. Your breath is already coming up short, stabbing bursts of pain digging into your stomach and chest. Considering how much you’ve already done this morning, this final run might get...painful.


>Take it slowly. You have a headstart.

>Full speed ahead! You just have to fight through it.

>Wait insolently for Maccio to get his way through the crowd. You’ll be able to get your breath back and be insulting about it to boot.

>Other (Specify)

>>2950951
>Full speed ahead! You just have to fight through it.

>>2950951
>Take it slowly. You have a headstart.

>>2950951
>Take it slowly. You have a headstart.

Vote called, writing.

>Take it slowly. You have a headstart.

You don’t have to bust your gut just to win a trophy. Maccio’s still tied up in the crowd so you have time. You can just take it slow and jog your way to the D’Amare. There’s no need for anything more than what you’ve already accomplished.

Or so you thought.

You’re a little over halfway to the fountain when you look back and see something terrifying. Maccio has finally won his way free of the crowd and he’s barreling down the canal at top speed! And though he might be large, he’s a lot faster in a straight line than you are.
Even if you start running for real now, he’s still probably going to overtake you!

You may have to resort to trickery.


>Fake an injury and fall over. Come help me, Maccio!

>”Stop!”

>Push someone or something into his path.

>No tricks. Just run for it!

>Other (Specify)

>>2951051
>No tricks. Just run for it!

>>2951051
>No tricks. Just run for it!

>>2951051
>No tricks. Just run for it!

Vote called, writing.

>No tricks. Just run for it!

No, you’re not going to resort to base trickery just for a footrace! You’ll save that for the duels.Instead you just ignore the pain and break into a sprint, racing down the canal towards the dingy little fountain. You don’t look back again but you know Maccio is gaining on you.
It’s just unfair, how fast he gets to be! And that’s why you have to win!

There’s nothing else to be said about it really. You’re closing in on the fountain and you can practically feel Maccio pass you. He draws level with you and with just seconds left, pulls ahead of you with one enormous arm outstretched!

>Roll 1d6. The first 1d6 will be for Sofia, the next two will be for Maccio.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>2951143

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>2951143

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>2951143

>Sofia: 3
>Maccio: 5

You’re not going to make it. The world seems to slow as you run your last few steps but it’s too late. Maccio isn’t just faster than you, his arms are much longer and he’s already reaching for the fountain’s rim. You can’t win. You can’t beat him. You can’t claim his strength for his own.

Unless...you dig deep. You’re not going to let yourself lose, are you?


>When confronted with a physical or mental challenge beyond her prowess, Sofia may sacrifice Composure dice from her upcoming duel in order to help overcome them.
>Her current Composure pool is as follows: 3d4, 1d6, 1d8, 1d12


>Use a d4.

>Use a d6.

>Use a d8.

>Use a d12

>>2951202
>>Use a d8.
this is so stupid. Sofia, you're so SMART, with GREAT FORESIGHT

>>2951202
>Don't sacrifice a Composure Die

>>2951219
Oh yeah, this is also an option.

>>2951202
>Use a d4.
I'm just gonna pretend to understand this system

>>2951202
>>Use a d4.
Coin flip

Vote called, writing.

>>2951202
>Use a d4.

>Use a d4.

You push forward with a brief burst of speed and as accidentally as you can manage, jab your elbow into Maccio’s side as you try to fight your way past him. Or well, you elbow him in the thigh. You’d have to put in some considerable effort to actually do that to his gut.
But surely that’s good enough, right?

>Sofia has lost 1d4 from her Composure for the duration of this thread!

>Roll 1d4.

Rolled 3 (1d4)

>>2951317

>Sofia: 6
>Maccio: 5

You drive your elbow into his thigh, slowing him just enough for you to scramble beneath his arm and dive for the fountain! You hit the rim and roll over, resting atop the water’s surface as you come to a rather languorous stop.
Maccio slaps the side of the D’Amare a moment later but it’s too late, you’re already lounging within the basin of the fountain itself.

“Well well well,” you say, sitting up and leaning your back against the crusty old dove sculpture. “Looks like romance will have its way regardless.”
You’re just going to ignore the stitch in your stomach.

“Are you saying the fountain wanted you to win?”

“Aren’t all things the will of the City?” That’s the basis of your very profession, though it’s not something you actually believe in. “The fountains are its conduits. Perhaps D’Amare is rewarding me for all the coins I’ve given it.”

Maccio raises an eyebrow.
“...You come here a lot then?”

“Of course.”
There’s a long silence as you sit there before him, blessed by the waters of love itself. Surely this is when he takes you into his tender but firm embrace? If Maccio is getting the hint, he’s not doing anything about it.
“Whatever,” you eventually say. “I’m going to take something from you now. I won, i deserve a prize.”

“Whatever you want,” he replies, unable to deny you.


>”Give me your shirt.”

>Take his belt for your own.

>You’ll have those spectacles, thanks. He can afford a lot more.

>He left his fancy red cloak in your room. It can stay there.

>>2951349
>He left his fancy red cloak in your room. It can stay there.

>>2951349
>”Give me your shirt.”

>>2951349
>Take a kiss
I-I mean
>spectacles

>>2951349
You’ll have those spectacles, thanks. He can afford a lot more.

Vote called, writing.

>You’ll have those spectacles, thanks. He can afford a lot more.

You drag yourself up and sit on the rim of the little fountain, letting your feet dangle just above the pavement. You beckon Maccio over, your face still red and panting from exertion, his so effortlessly and irritatingly pure.
“I would have something of you,” you say. “Kneel.”

“If you insist.”

He gallantly takes a knee before you and with you sitting on the fountain’s rim, your faces are nearly aligned. You reach up and run a hand down the side of his face for but a moment before gently plucking his spectacles from his face.
The wire-rimmed glasses are surprisingly small in your hands. Shit, they could even fit you.

You put them on and see the world as Maccio does.

>Monkey Sight allows Sofia to copy a trait of her opponent for as long as she wears the trophy in question. And though you cannot take duel techniques from non-duel contests, you can copy all kinds of non-duel abilities, some of which might have duel relevance.

>Choose one:


>Size Difference: Everytime you perform a Strike but before calculating damage, destroy one of the lowest value of your opponent’s Composure Dice, provided that said Dice is smaller than the lowest of your remaining Composure Dice. Has plenty of practical usage outside of duels too of course.

>An Artistic Eye: The ways of semblance and pigment suddenly make sense to you now. You can paint as well as Maccio can.

>Long Stride: You had to try your best to best Maccio in a sprint. But if you see things this way, you can pace yourself as if your strides were longer than they truly are.

>Well of Scholarship: As long as you wear these spectacles, you can summon up a piece of academic knowledge or historical quotation relevant to your current situation.

>Other (Specify)

>>2951464
>An Artistic Eye: The ways of semblance and pigment suddenly make sense to you now. You can paint as well as Maccio can.

>>2951464
The question is, how well can Maccio paint? We haven't seen his work.

>>2951497
Sofia has no idea!

>>2951464
>An Artistic Eye: The ways of semblance and pigment suddenly make sense to you now. You can paint as well as Maccio can.

Fuck it, why not.

>>2951464
>Well of Scholarship: As long as you wear these spectacles, you can summon up a piece of academic knowledge or historical quotation relevant to your current situation.
and a kiss

>>2951464
>Long Stride: You had to try your best to best Maccio in a sprint. But if you see things this way, you can pace yourself as if your strides were longer than they truly are.
Apparently Sofia isn't too special in the looks department, so the only option is to get legs for days

Vote called, writing.

>>2951464
>Well of Scholarship: As long as you wear these spectacles, you can summon up a piece of academic knowledge or historical quotation relevant to your current situation.
Glasses of nerdyness

>>2951464
damn would have gotten
>Size Difference: Everytime you perform a Strike but before calculating damage, destroy one of the lowest value of your opponent’s Composure Dice, provided that said Dice is smaller than the lowest of your remaining Composure Dice. Has plenty of practical usage outside of duels too of course.

Just to see how everyone reacted to huge Sofia

>An Artistic Eye: The ways of semblance and pigment suddenly make sense to you now. You can paint as well as Maccio can.

Seeing the world as Maccio does could have a multitude of different meanings. After all, doesn’t perception define reality? You could have just as easily taken the original source of your jealousy, his physical prowess, through mere sight alone. All you have to do is figure out how Maccio sees the world from his...elevated vantage point and through his glasses, replicate it. Alter your perception, alter yourself.
But thinking over it, you’re not sure if you really want to be seven and a half feet tall every time you wear his spectacles. Sure it’d be fun and it’d have some use but you wouldn’t really change. You’d just be Big Sofia, as Sofia as you ever were but just bigger in every direction.

Or you could peered through his lenses and seen with eyes of history, with eyes that can dig deep into memory and academia and assign a meaning to everything they see. You wouldn’t have the memory yourself but in the actual substance of it, there’d be no difference. You’d certainly come off as a well-educated girl.

But instead, inspired by your recent topic of controversy, you see the world the way Maccio sees it in terms of creation. When you think about it, an artist has to see things differently than you do. To you, things are just as they are and that is all. You don’t see how the contours flow, you don’t watch the colours with the eye of replication, you don’t behold with the intent of creating your own image to behold. But as long as you wear these spectacles, you can.
You still don’t know the first thing about painting but sit you down in front of an easel and your eyes and hands could do it without the brain needing to work.

You’ve done it! You’ve become an artist without having to bother with all that nonsense about creativity or inspiration. Like you said, you’re a damn good learner when the time is right. You can learn art without ever engaging with the things that sit behind it. As for the other things you could have been? Maybe you can take them too later on.

The world around you is like a different place now, even though nothing has changed but you. It’s a very different thing to look out at everything with the knowledge of how the whole visual flows together. There is a beauty in everything.
Is this how a foreigner feels when they first set foot in the City? You understand that they can become intoxicated on simply the reality of it all, that even a single bite of food or sip of drink can make them lost forever. Maybe this kind of beauty is why they use such fanciful terms as magic or fae to describe Aquitae Cogituum and its inhabitants.

“Are you alright, Sofia?”

“I think I can paint!”

“It’s just that your eyes have changed colour.”

1/2

>>2951638
“They have?”
You take off the spectacles and then examine your reflection in the fountain’s basis, waiting until she replicates your actions a few more times. As the lenses pass over your eyes, pink gives way to green. The same shade of green as Maccio’s.
“Oh, I accidentally learned your eye colour as well. Don’t worry about it.”
It’s never perfect.
“Though Maccio,” you add, “I’m surprised you can see the colour so easily. Don’t you need these to see?”

“Only things that are far away,” he says, leaning in closer.

With the glasses balanced uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose, you lean in to match him. Together, the two of yo-

A rolled up scroll bursts free of the fountain and strikes you across the face, knocking your trophy off! You catch the glasses before they can fall into the water, snatching the scroll out of the air with your other hand.
“Oh what now?”

You unroll the scroll and give it a quick scan, sighing.
“Duty calls, Maccio. And this one’s a little strange. Apparently I’m to meet my client at...the Polizia Magistratum. He’s in custody of the constabulary!”

“Is that unusual?”

“Damn straight it is, they’ve got nothing to do with Sword Law! They should keep to their own damn business!”


>You should get over there right away! What if your client talks to them? The only reason they would have him is if they were trying to shift him from the jurisdiction of Sword Law to Street Law.

>You’re tired and gross. You should spend at least a few hours resting and rejuvenating. This is a bad day for an assignment. Hopefully you can get the duel itself moved to tomorrow.

>It’s in a few hours. Don’t you want to spend more time with Maccio in between?

>>2951642
>>You should get over there right away! What if your client talks to them? The only reason they would have him is if they were trying to shift him from the jurisdiction of Sword Law to Street Law.

>>2951642
>Get changed into a proper uniform and get a bath. Look presentable
>Send a message to our client (via fountain) to NOT TALK to the police until we get there. We will get there as soon as we are able to without impropriety.
>While we're getting ready, tell Maccio we might agree to being a model, but we would prefer if he kept it different/ abstract enough he would not need to rely on our curse. Improving without criticism is.. difficult, and his fellows would likely be put out if they figure out his trick, not too mention be upset at us too.

>>2951642
>You should get over there right away! What if your client talks to them? The only reason they would have him is if they were trying to shift him from the jurisdiction of Sword Law to Street Law.

>Thank Maccio for hanging out with us for a bit

>>2951642
>Take a bath first
>Invite Maccio back to your room

Vote called, writing.

>You should get over there right away! What if your client talks to them? The only reason they would have him is if they were trying to shift him from the jurisdiction of Sword Law to Street Law.

Oh no. If he’s in their custody it means that Street Law is trying to get their grubby little fingers all over him. And either it’s for something else and that it’s a big coincidence that your client would be challenged during all this or it’s the result of a classic Sword-Over-Street jurisdiction error. You know how those work, at least in theory, Lanzo told you all about them. And the most important thing he said was to never let your client to talk to the constabulary.
Because, as counter-intuitive as it might seem to some people, the polizia do not have your best interests in mind.

Not to mention, you have somewhat of a professional rivalry with them. It’s just how it works. The City is governed under three Laws and each resents the other two. Especially since you’re a public defender. You’ll never defend a member of the constabulary, they have their own duellists on retainer. When it comes to your professional life, at the very least, they will only ever be obstacles and enemies.

You need to get dressed and head over there right away but first...you should probably take an extra measure. You’ve never had to actually send a message back before but as a servant in the City’s direct employ, the secret ways should be open to you.
“Do you have anything I can use to write? This is urgent!”

“It’s not an issue,” Maccio says, pulling out a gold-filigree fountain pen with pearl plating down the sides. It probably costs more than your rooms.

You grab it out of his hands and hastily scribble down the following:

don’t talk to anyone!!!Just sit down, shut up and wait!

After rolling the scroll back up and giving it a quick lick to restore the wax seal, you spike the scroll back down into the fountain. By the time the water clears, there is no scroll sitting on the bottom with the scattered coins.
“Sorry Maccio, it was nice seeing you. But I’ve got to get going.”

“That’s fine,” he says. “But if you want, I could accompany you. I already had my schedule cleared for the painting, you see.”

Huh. Now there’s a thought. And here’s another one: You’re certainly going to get changed into your proper attire before you leave but are you going to bother with the time to bathe? You don’t actually owe your client a reputable appearance after all.

You have two choices to make.

>Maccio can accompany you.

>Decline. It wouldn’t be fair to your client or anyone else involved to drag in strangers.

And

>Just get changed. Time is of the essence.

>It’s been a very sweaty day. You should at least bathe first.

>>2951695
>Maccio can accompany you.
>It’s been a very sweaty day. You should at least bathe first.

Just because we can doesn't mean we should not make ourself presentable.

>>2951695
>>Decline. It wouldn’t be fair to your client or anyone else involved to drag in strangers.
>Just get changed. Time is of the essence.

>>2951695
>Decline. It wouldn’t be fair to your client or anyone else involved to drag in strangers.
>but thank him for the offer, and tell him we'll let him know when we're free again.

>Bathe and off Maccio the use of it after we are done, assuming he wants to try and fit in it. It's not quite sized to his frame.

>>2951695
>Decline. It wouldn’t be fair to your client or anyone else involved to drag in strangers.
>It’s been a very sweaty day. You should at least bathe first
Spend some more time with him though by dismissing him in our room after the bath.

>>2951642
>With the glasses balanced uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose, you lean in to match him. Together, the two of yo-
>A rolled up scroll bursts free of the fountain and strikes you across the face, knocking your trophy off!
Damn you, City, you @$#!-ing cockblocker!

>>2951695
>don’t talk to anyone!!!Just sit down, shut up and wait!
>After rolling the scroll back up and giving it a quick lick to restore the wax seal, you spike the scroll back down into the fountain.
I'm expecting slapstick. The client tries to talk and the scroll nails them in the head.

>Maccio can accompany you.
>It’s been a very sweaty day. You should at least bathe first.

Vote called, writing.

>Decline. It wouldn’t be fair to your client or anyone else involved to drag in strangers.
>It’s been a very sweaty day. You should at least bathe first.

“No thanks Maccio but it wouldn’t be very fair to anyone else involved if I just pulled in a stranger. These are usually private affairs for the people concerned.”

“Would they object to you doing so?”

“Well...no, but I don’t want to be that kind of person. Now, maybe I can see you after this duel business is over. We can paint together.”

Only after Maccio has left that do you wonder if he’ll have any troubles getting home with his spectacles missing. Oh well, not your problem anymore!

******

You keep your bath short and cold. You don’t have time to heat the water. You don’t own your own tub but your boarding house has a communal arrangement involving a small room with a tub and an open window. Just outside that open window is a pulley to which you attach a rope loop strung with buckets. After making sure that nobody is passing directly below, you let it drop so that the bottom buckets are dragging through the canal below.
As long as you sit in the tub by the window and keep the pulley going, you can get a steady supply of buckets filled with water coming up past the window. You only need a few, it’s a quick bath.

You don’t even bother filling the tub, resorting to just splashing yourself with the buckets and scrubbing as best you can. Time is of the essence!

You’ve got your wet hair tied back into a ponytail before you even leave the tub. It’ll mean that it won’t dry out for ages but is that really important right now? You struggle into your duelling outfit, making extra sure that you haven’t put your coat on backwards or some other catastrophe.
You can let everything else fall away into chaos but your outfit as a duellist and the sword that comes with it are your pride and joy. You will not fail to look impressive.

******

The Polizia Magistratum towers over the other nearby buildings, taking up a small block all to itself. Calling it a ‘block’ might be misleading however. It is as an island, floating in the middle of an intersection of a dozen different canals. A large square tower built from quartzlike bricks that shine like rainbows when the light reflects off of them. You recognize the stone. It’s what allows the Magistratum to be bigger on the inside.
And laid out before the shining tower is a long walkway that all visitors to the Magistratum must pass through. The pathway was a river, a straight line of water rushing in towards the Magistratum before disappearing into grilles at the base of the tower’s grand stairs. The river passes through a number of arches on its way up to the tower and is surrounded on both sides by a small park’s worth of beautiful grassland. The grass is emerald green, dotted with the occasional tree and stalked throughout by small packs of brightly coloured peacocks.

1/2

>>2951790
You could be mistaken for thinking it beautiful. You know the truth of it however. As you walk down the river, you spy a metallic gleam as the light dances across the blades of grass to either side of you. It’s just as you were told then. Each blade of ‘grass’ is made of something not quite glass or steel but deadly sharp either way. Anyone setting foot on them, that is to say, anyone trying to approach the Polizia Magistratum through a means other than official walkway, would have their feet reduced to mince.
And while the peacocks stalk through it without trouble, you’re pretty sure they’re not flesh or blood either. Beautifully painted and jeweled sculptures, crafted from organic metal and stone. If you were to stray off the path, they would surely descend upon you.

You walk down the river, the speed of the water having no effect on your ability to use its surface. And as you pass through each arch, you hear or feel something wrong with the world. A buzzing or a squeaking or a scratching upon the inside of your skull. Though you don’t know the means of it, each archway along the river is a trap or a seer of some kind. Perhaps similar to the one that surrounds the City as a whole, to prevent anyone with malicious intent from ever entering the tower. It’s all hostile architecture, that particular school of crafting that uses precise geometries and unseen maths to make constructions that loathe, bar and limit humanity.
The cherubic sculptures adorning each arch turn and watch you as you pass.

You don’t know what the arches see but you can hazard a guess at what would happen to you if they didn’t like it. You’d likely have your water-walking privileges temporarily revoked, dropping you helplessly into the river which would sweep you through the grille and into the spaces below. The constabulary can do that, if all circumstances align.

You keep a careful eye on your reflection on the river’s surface as you walk. And just as you guessed, once you pass through the last archway, there are reflections of things waiting for you that have no counterpart above water. The errant reflections seize your own and stop her at the final archway. All you feel is a mild tingle.
While you are in the Magistratum you will cast no reflection and have no shadow. The instructions of the worlds below are not permitted.

This is the stronghold of Street Law and one of the grander and most secure public buildings in the City. Now that you are past the final arch and are staring up at the stairs towards the door, all of which are bare save for the occasional stray peacock, you begin to feel small. Like you don’t matter. What could you possibly do that would go against the will of this mighty fortress?
There’s no use, you feel. You just need to acquiesce to the Law.


>Believe

>Disbelieve

>>2951792
>>Disbelieve

>>2951792
>Disbelieve
Piss off pigs, we're the law too

Vote called, writing.

File: sofia_ceg_sketch2.jpg (77 KB, 800x608)

77 KB JPG

>Disbelieve

No, this feeling isn’t yours! It’s been given to you. You gaze back up at the tower in front of you, the quartz bricks appearing white until the light occasionally catches them, giving rise to rainbow sheens glistening up and down the edifice. The entire thing is slanted forward at least a little, especially over the stairs.
You’d bet anything that it’s all intentional. More hostile architecture, this one designed to incept feelings of intimidation and obedience.
You’re not sure how you feel about that, besides what it’s telling you to feel. Private use of psychological architecture is forbidden by High Law, thus restricting it to only the rich. And that’s because the feelings radiated by such hateful buildings can persist and cause lasting harm. A little irresponsible for the constabulary to have such a forceful display of it then.

But then again, when did they ever care about the people dragged through those doors?

You don’t have a particular fondness for the constabulary. Part of it is, as previously stated, a purely professional rivalry. Another part is, though you’re loath to admit, is part of your own noble upbringing. Your old family had been the kind of people to make constables use the servant’s door and had generally regarded them as a lesser sort of criminal best used to keep the other criminals in line. It is the nature of Street Law to ever seek to increase its authority and the nature of noblemen to detest them for it the moment said authority could ever be applied to them.

The grand doors at the end of the stairs are attended to by a single man in a dark black uniform with a shining steel breastplate worn over the top of it. He peers at you suspiciously from out underneath his helmet.
“What’s yer name?”

“Sofia Pseudonym.”

“What’s yer business?”

You pull your still-sheathed sword free from your belt and hold it up.
“Public defender. You’ve got one of my clients. Now piss off and open the door because I know you can’t stop me.”


“Hold up,” he says. “You can say whatever you want and you’re right. Terribly sorry, signorina.”

1/3

>>2951849
You soak in his confusion as he lets you through. What he’d intended to say was likely a good deal more rude. But that was the way of things. There’s been pale feelings between Sword and Street ever since both Laws had been born.
It had all started with High Law of course. The inviolable and arcane stuff of lawyers and judges. But there were some things, you were told, that High Law could not handle. The first had been what would become Street Law, the protection of the public peace and the investigation and punishment of petty crimes. High Law applied to such a subject was grotesque, impractical and violently impinging upon the principle of liberty, to which all proper citizens can aspire. So the constabulary had been made and a section of Law split off and given to them. Members of the polizia can wield vast legal powers over the citizenry but the same High Law that grants them these powers also restricts and prevents them from abusing them. Nobody wanted the constabulary becoming the new rulers of the City after all.

Nobody save the constables themselves, it seems sometimes.

The other malfunction of High Law had been with crimes of honor and personal redress between citizens. And this was simply because there had been too many cases. The High Court would have choked to death. That had been given over to the trials by combat, the duels. For sword and wit and City to settle. The right to duel is integral to every citizen but the rise of people like you quickly made it unwise in the extreme.

So beyond occasional little scuffles of jurisdiction, why would either Law have reason to dislike the other? Because, in a strange and twisted way, Street Law is subservient to Sword Law. For while the constables are held accountable to High Law should they overstep their bounds, matters of personal misconduct towards other citizens is often a duelling offence. Misbehaving constables can, should they offend the wrong person, be challenged under Sword Law and as far as you can tell, they hate this.

And they, in turn, do little stunts like this.

You sigh as you start filling out the paperwork in the lobby, a room too large to fit into the tower’s ground floor. You can feel the stares on your back and you can imagine what they’re thinking. Another vacuous full-of-herself duellist here to complicate matters when they’re the ones risking their lives to protect the people. Why can’t people be more grateful?

So there’s rivalry and pale feelings between Sword and Street. Street dislikes High because of the restrictions imposed upon them and is forever lobbying to have them reduced or replaced. Sword dislikes High because actually getting one of your terms challenged and having to take it to High Court is a pain in the arse and also fuck lawyers. And High...who knows what they think? Fuck lawyers.
You’re all a big happy family united under Law, that’s the point.

2/3

>>2951852
******

Your client is waiting for you in a cell that you only had to climb seven flights of cells to reach. He’s a lithe man of thirty or forty, his head covered in a mop of curly black hair and the only slightest hints of gray. His skin is weathered and cracked by sunlight and hard toil, the kind of deep tan you only get from working outside in the Aquitae sun every day of your life. Not that you see a lot of it because he’s exceptionally hirsute.

“Are you Signore Potinza?”

“Yes?”
He looks up, the glint of his eyes almost obscured by his hair.
“Are you my-”

“Yes. Did you get my note? And more importantly, have you been talking to the polizia? Oh, that reminds me. Hey you.”
That last remark was pointed at the guard patrolling the cells.
“Yeah you. Buzz off. You’re not allowed within thirty feet of me when I’m talking to a client.”

“I said a little,” he said. “But it’s alright because it wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!”

“Hold on,” you say. “My name is Sofia Pseudonym by the way. Now what exactly didn’t you do?”

“I didn’t steal what they say I did. The coiners are accusing me of making off with a stash but I don’t have anything!”

“Wait, wait, wait, coiners? You mean the people out around d’Oro? That fountain?

“Yes! I work as a gardener for some of them in the area but-”

“I’m interrupting you again,” you say. “Were you initially placed under arrest for this?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you still talked to them?”

“Yes?”

“Look, uh, Orso, do you mind if I call you Orso? How do I explain this to you?”


>Sit down and walk him through a polite explanation of Sword-over-Street jurisdiction errors and what that means for him.

>The same as above but significantly less polite. You are tired and angry.

>”Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

>Other (Specify)

File: sofia_ceg_sketch.jpg (75 KB, 800x608)

75 KB JPG

>>2951849
Ah fuck I used the wrong outfit sketch. This one was a dropped concept art. Sofia wears trousers, I swear.

>>2951854
>>”Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

>>2951856
so what you're saying is that if we got Long Stride her legs would burst out of her trousers

>Sit down and walk him through a polite explanation of Sword-over-Street jurisdiction errors and what that means for him.

>>2951861
Nah, for the same reason taking Size Difference wouldn't cause her to burst out of her everything. Stuff scales up.

>>2951854
>>The same as above but significantly less polite. You are tired and angry.

>>2951854
>>”Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

File: flaaaaaaake.png (5 KB, 400x400)

5 KB PNG

I'm going to rest for an hour or so. Vote will remain open until then.

>>2951856
>tfw we could've had a Zettai Ryouiki Sophia

>>2951854
>Sit down and walk him through a polite explanation of Sword-over-Street jurisdiction errors and what that means for him.
We need to maintain decorum as a public defender.

>>2951897
Public defenders don't have decorum.

>>2951923
Then we'll be the first.
We'll show them all.

>>2951854
>>”Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

Alright, I'm awake again. Vote called and writing.

>”Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

You’re already testy and uncomfortable enough with having to be in this damn place, you are not going to waste time explaining a simple concept to him. Instead you settle for slamming your hand on the cell bars.
“Just take my word for it and don’t fucking talk to them! They’re not your friends!”

“Why not?”

You take a deep breath.
“Alright Orso...Signore Potinza, why are you here?”

“Because I got arrested because they think I stole the coins but I didn’t!”

“And why am I here?”

“Because the family challenged me over the theft I didn’t do.”

“Good, good. So why are you still in jail?”

“What?”

“If this ‘crime’ is a matter of Sword Law, it means that the constabulary can’t prove anything. If they can’t prove anything, they don’t get to use their power over you. It’s how we stop them from just doing whatever they want. If they could prove anything, the family wouldn’t need to challenge you because you’d already be getting your hand chopped off! Stealing from coiners is a big fucking deal! If they had anything on you we wouldn’t be having this meeting!”
You take a deep breath and try to calm down.
“They’re keeping you here for now because they’re allowed to, they can detain someone without authority for three days and three nights. Any more than that and the officers involved start losing their jurisdiction. Now, since this has gone to Sword Law we know they can’t prove anything so why are they still keeping you here? Can you tell me why?”
You’ve let yourself slip to an extremely condescending tone but that’s fine. You don’t care.

“Why?”

“Because they still want to get you! It doesn’t matter if you did it or not, Orso! They are not on your side, they are not your friends! They are keeping you here because they want to trick you into implicating yourself somehow before the duel happens and settles the issue one way or another! It’s called a Sword-over-Street jurisdiction error, you idiot, they’re trying to cheat you out of your right to a trial by combat! So don’t! Fucking! Talk!”

He sits back a little, staring at you in surprise.
“Thanks,” he eventually says. You wonder what words your curse just swallowed there. Not that he’d know, of course. To his mind, he’s just being very nice to this duellist lady for some reason.

1/2

>>2951978
“Now listen up dipshit! I’m going to fight whatever duellist this family has hired and I’m going to win. I’m going to clear your name. I’m going to make you a free man. But I can’t get out out of here until the three days and three nights pass. So you really just have to stay quiet. It doesn’t matter if they threaten you, they can’t actually do whatever they say they can. If they come in and say that they’ve found evidence and that it doesn’t matter anymore, don’t respond. Don’t say yes or no. Don’t tell them anything about anyone. Don’t fucking talk to anyone unless I’m here!”

You sigh. That felt good.


>”...Now give me the details.”

>Confront the guard about this jurisdiction ‘error’. You have no power here but you can kick up a stink since everyone knows that they do this shit on purpose. And what are they going to do, tell you to leave?

>”So did you do it or not?”

>You’ve got some time before your actual appointment starts. Maybe you can work on your newfound art skills.

>Other (Specify)

>>2951979
>You’ve got some time before your actual appointment starts. Maybe you can work on your newfound art skills.

>>2951979
>”...Now give me the details.”

>>2951979
>”...Now give me the details.”

>>2951979
>”...Now give me the details.”

Vote called, writing.

>”...Now give me the details.”

An awkward silence descends, you having made quite the impression on your client. It persists for as long as you permit it to.

“...Now, give me the details. In your own words, if you please.”

Orso clears his throat uncertainly.
“Alright. My name is Orso Potinza. I live up along Speculo way.”

“That’s a pretty swanky area. Surprised you couldn’t afford a pro.”

“I live in a shed,” he says bluntly. “It’s a good shed but still. I’m a gardener to a lot of people with townhouses in Speculo, since my family was living there before it became all rich. And that includes around D’Oro.”

You nod.
“So coiners then.”
D’Oro was a known enough fountain, a large double decker in the middle of a square. Any coin you dropped into is transformed into pure gold. This was, for the most part, totally useless. It was still just a coin, all coins are worth the same. And what value does gold have? It’s decorative and nothing more.
But that’s just in the City. Apparently the people of the Lesser Realms hold the metal in quite some esteem and so the coiner trade had sprung up. People who would buy up or collect coins and wash them in D’Oro, transforming them into the kind of coins that foreign merchants loved so much. Without them, trade with the rest of the world would not be anywhere near as lucrative.
“Unwise enemies to make.”

“I said, I didn’t steal it! It’s this one family, they’re down on their luck, oldschool coiner family that can’t compete with the new folk who have moved in lately. The Antonelli’s. I do some garden work for them. And they’ve got a stash of stuff they skimmed off the top apparently. Or they had.”

“Is that...allowed?”

“All the coiners do it. But yeah, the old man who ran the family, Leo Antonelli. Real hardass. Everyone knew he had a stash, it was all that was keeping him and his kids and his grandkids in business. He died a few days ago and when they go to check, everything’s gone!”
He scrunches his face up.
“Or so I’m told. First I heard of it is when the constables broke my door down. They said they’d figured out the window for when it must have been taken and that it could only have been me. But I just trimmed some hedges!”

“Relax,” you say, feeling calmer now. “They haven’t found anything or else we wouldn’t be talking and you’d be down a hand by now. They probably ransacked your home though.”

“They did,” he says morosely. “I was there.”

“I think I can figure the rest out from here. So they took you away preemptively but ultimately didn’t find the evidence required to grant them jurisdiction. You know constables, if they act outside their jurisdiction they fall ill. So they just held you in here to do their oldest trick in the book and after they told the Antonelli family that they can’t pin it on you, the family challenged you to a duel over it. Do I understand?”

1/2

>>2952020
“Yes, that’s more or less it. I don’t get it. This isn’t a ‘crime of honor’ or anything, why do they get to challenge me for anything?”

“Well the duels don’t just cover crimes against honor, that’s just the most famous part of it. It’s the one that shows up in all the books and plays. But people are allowed to challenge over street crime that can’t be proven.”

“That doesn’t seem right.”

“It’s not something to be invoked frivolously. Depending on what you want, I can demand pretty extensive terms.”

“You can?”

“Signore Potinza, they are almost literally asking for a pound of flesh from you. A hand, specifically. Either that or for you to pay off a debt for the rest of your life. Those are the only outcomes of using a duel to determine that the constables can punish you. As the challenged, you have the right to demand compensation and redress for this risk.”
You pause for a moment and then hurriedly add
“You can’t ask for their hands to be cut off though.”

“I just want to get out of here.”

“Hrm, yes. Say, how much coin would you make in three days and three nights of your usual routine?”

“Why do ya ask?”

“I’m just figuring out what I can name as acceptable damages for my victory terms. They’ve deprived you of that, at the very least. Maybe add a little more because this place has such oppressive psychological architecture, that counts as damages probably. Failing that, is there anything you want from the family themselves?”

He gives you a slow look.
“Their house.”

“Pardon?”

“I maintain most of the bloody thing already. And I know they’re probably moving out soon enough since they’re out of money. So I want the deed for it. It’s better than a shed.”

“And what would you do with it?”

“Live? Who knows, maybe get in the coiner business myself then. Or at least stop being a gardener.”


>Accept. People shouldn’t make frivolous challenges.

>Decline. Let’s not get too vindictive.

>>2952021
>Hold that idea on your head. Perhaps we could make them lower their terms as well if we strive for a too hard of a bargain.

>Still, if you want to go for it, you could risk your hand, which would endanger your livehood if you lost. Tell me, do you know what sort of duellist they usually employ?

>>2952021
>Decline. Let’s not get too vindictive
No way this won't give them cause to demand something more. How about asking for part of its sale worth?

>>2952021
>>Accept. People shouldn’t make frivolous challenges

>>2952021
>We don't know how valuable this house is, so warn him that if his demands are too high the challenger can up their demands as well.

Vote called, writing.

>Question this.

“Hold onto that idea, Signore. We don’t know just how valuable that is so you might be driving too hard of a bargain. If you do that, the challenger gets to up their demands. Now, I know I’ll beat whoever they send but let’s not be too hasty.”

“How can it’s value matter? One way or the other, either my hand or my life is riding on this!”

“Not necessarily. It’s possible that I could talk to their duellist beforehand and try to get them to lower their terms. I understand that’s common in jurisdiction issues like this one. They’re probably willing to settle for something less.”

“You sure?”

“We shall see. But if you insist on going ahead with this idea, I will just have to win. It should be of little difficulty for a duellist like me.”

“So you’re good.”
It had probably been originally meant as a question.

“The best! I am undefeated! So don’t you worry. Just leave it to me and think of this as a small vacation from your usual life. A vacation where you don’t talk to anyone.”

“You were right to treat me like that,” he says, looking a little puzzled. “I can tell you’re a damn fine girl and I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

“Thank you! But while we’re on the subject of my many virtues and my certain victory, do you have any idea what kind of duellist I might be defeating shortly?

He shakes his head, sending his hair this way and that.
“None. But I doubt they have much coin left so it can’t be anyone good. Certainly not as good as you.”

“A gutter duellist, eh?”
You wonder if they’ll be anything like the old Signore Albero. Shit, it might actually be him again. You’re not sure how you’d feel about that.
“Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“What does that word mean anyway?”

“What word?”

“Gutter.”

“No idea.”

Alright, so that’s all well and resolved. But now, thanks to your early arrival, you have some time to kill. How best to do it?

>Go home and take the opportunity to ready yourself properly to make sure you look as good as possible.

>A short visit to a friend may be helpful.

>You’ve got some more questions for Orso here. (Specify)

>Time to do your best to make a fuss and try to get him out of jail early. Surely they KNOW this won’t work anymore.

>Explore the Polizia Magistratum.

>Other (Specify)

>>2952048
>>Explore the Polizia Magistratum.

>>2952048
>Time to do your best to make a fuss
Sofia of all people can get them to admit the real reason why they haven't released Orso yet. Lean on them.

>>2952048
>>Explore the Polizia Magistratum

>>Explore the Polizia Magistratum
>Capture a policeman and make him give you a tour.

>>2952048
>Go home and take the opportunity to ready yourself properly to make sure you look as good as possible.

>>2952048
>>Go home and take the opportunity to ready yourself properly to make sure you look as good as possible.

File: sleep.jpg (114 KB, 577x515)

114 KB JPG

Sorry guys, I'm going to sleep. Vote will remain open until the morning.

>>2952113
Thanks for running and good night!

>>2952113
Ouro. What if Sophia painted a portrait of a hot woman then somehow got it legally recognized as her depiction? Would it make us hot?

>>2952233
Wouldn't it be better to just beat up a hot person?

>>2952415
Maccio was hot and we didn't even get the option to copy his hotness.

>>2952233
Yes.

>>2952415
Yes.

I'm awake, vote called and writing.

>>2953051
If we just beat up someone hot though, our newly acquired hotness will depend on us carrying the trophy. I think this is too inconvenient.

>>2953090
I think we should start unifying our trophies. Take the same thing every time. Hair or a strip of cloth. Get a theme.

And there's nothing wrong with putting on your best face before going out.

>>2953090
Just take a convenient trophy. Also why did you guys not take size difference?

Whoops this took way too long.


>Explore the Polizia Magistratum.

Having been assured of your client’s determination not to speak to anyone else, you take your leave of his cell block and wander out into the corridor beyond. The interior walls are surprisingly mundane compared to the Magistratum’s incredible exterior, whitewashed and plain.
You yourself must stand out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else. The constabulary insist on the drabbest, darkest uniform possible. It’s an aesthetic you’d call almost foreign if you were aiming to offend. They bear none of the usual colours of the City’s populace.

As some small vengeance for this Sword-over-Street ‘error’, you’ve decided to ambush an officer. You’ll be assigning them a new job: Tour guide. But you need to ensure that they don’t just walk away from you…

The next time a constable passes down the hall, you snake out an arm to the opposing wall and stretch out across the entire hallway in an exaggerated lean. It’s an effective blockade.
“Hello!,” you trill. “I’ve been looking for someone who might be able to show me around.”

He tries. He really does.
“I have something else that needs do-”

“What, so you’re not going to help me?”

“I-”

“Is your business more important than me?”

“No, of course it isn’t.”
He looks surprised at himself for saying that.

“To be honest constable, I’m the best possible use of your time.”

“Yes.”

“I mean, what would your bosses do if they found out that you didn’t do exactly everything I told you to?”

“They’d be...angry?”
He mustn’t be sure why he’s acquiescing to you but in his mind at least, all of this is his own decision.
“You are extraordinary.”

“Yes, I know. It’s a curse.”

Well. you’ve wrangled yourself a constable. Now you could just use him as a tour guide or ...you could abuse your newfound position.


>Just a look around is fine.

>Use him to drag some constables into a contest of some sort.

>Use him to show you some of the more secret places.

>Use him to get access to whoever’s in charge around here.

>He’s not bad looking, honestly…

>Other (specify)

>>2953275
>Use him to drag some constables into a contest of some sort.

I'm up for stealing more techniques

>>2953275
>HE'S LOOKIN PRETTY FINE, ESPECIALLY IN THAT UNIFORM

>>2953275
>Use him to drag some constables into a contest of some sort.

File: SCsummary.png (566 KB, 800x817)

566 KB PNG

>>2953275
>Use him to show you some of the more secret places.
also, ask him invasive questions

Vote called, writing

>Use him to drag some constables into a contest of some sort.

You still have time before you’re scheduled to meet with your opposite number. And if the polizia thought they were profiting from this attempted trick of theirs, it’s time to cruelly dissuade them of the notion. By trying to coerce information out of your client, all they have accomplished was to invite you into their stronghold. And you’ll take full advantage of that.

“My name is Sofia by the way,” you say, safe in the knowledge that he can never report it. “Thank you for agreeing to show me around!”

“..Sure.”
He knows he made no such agreement of course but look at him, he’s saying he did for some reason! This generally makes people ignorant of you comply. After all, he must be thinking, didn’t he just agree then?

Your morning with Maccio has awakened a hunger in you. He wasn’t enough. You need more. Oh, how easy it is to slip back into your conquering ways!
“Take me to the barracks or whatever you may call them. The break room? Wherever you people sit around when you’re not doing anything.”

“Absolutely, since you’re so beautiful and all. But why?”

“I’m bored. I’d like to play a little game or so while waiting for my client.Oh, is something wrong? Is it that citizens aren’t allowed in there? Don’t worry, my good constable, I’m practically a sister in arms. Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t? Would you bar my way?”

“Never! ...Fine, I guess it’s fine. Right this way, Signorina.”

“Please, call me Sofia.”

*******

The little room, apparently the break room for this particular floor, is...lived in. It’s squalid, to be less charitable. Personal belongings, food, weapons and what looks like various forms of evidence are strewn out around the table. There’s a few constables here, two men and one woman, though she isn’t wearing the armour of the other two? Some sort of desk job? Does the Magistratum have bureaucrats? They must, you just never really thought about it before. They’re playing cards.

One of them rises as you walk in.
“Who are you?”

“I’m Sofia Pseudonym, duellist. I’m just visiting a client that you’ve wrongfully imprisoned in an attempt to coerce him back into your jurisdiction.”

“Oh, that’s alright then. Come on in.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed,” the woman says. “But we can make an exception for you.”

“Thank you,” you say with the grace of someone for whom exceptions are often made. “I just wanted to see how the other half lived. Mind if I join in your game?”

“Not at all,” they lie.

You recognise the painted cards spread out upon the table. It’s a pretty basic gambling game, a little bit judgement but mostly luck. It’s called Auction.
“I won’t be betting any money by the way. Do you mind if we just play a few rounds for nothing?”
You get the predictable response and the others slowly put their stakes back in their pockets.

1/2

>>2953491
Auction is all about making a bid and trying to match it with the cards you’re constantly being dealt. You’ll start the bidding of course. But how risky should you go?

>For the sake of the thread, several rounds of Auction are abstracted into a dice game. You must choose a number between 5 and 9 and try to use two dice to win with it. Some numbers will cause you to lose. Some numbers will prolong the game. It’s awfully random but that’s card games for you! Poker this ain’t.

>Choose a bid:


>5: Rolling a 5 wins. 2, 3, 11 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

>6: Rolling a 6 or a 12 wins. 2, 3 and 11 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

>7: Rolling a 7 or an 11 wins. 2, 3 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

>8: Rolling an 8 or a 12 wins. 2, 3 and 11 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

>9: Rolling a 9 wins. 2, 3, 11 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

>>2953494
>7: Rolling a 7 or an 11 wins. 2, 3 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

Rolled 1, 6 = 7 (2d6)

>>2953494
8

>>2953494
>>7: Rolling a 7 or an 11 wins. 2, 3 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

Vote called.

>7: Rolling a 7 or an 11 wins. 2, 3 and 12 lose. Anything else gives you an extra chance.

Auction is a somewhat complex game. You make a bid and then everyone tries to match it first, all drawing wildly from the same deck in an attempt to sculpt their hand, one card of which is always visible to the others. There are cards that are worth counting towards your bid and cards that are worth nothing but can be used for specific things, like looking at an opponent’s hand or for reordering the top of the deck. Most dreaded of these is the Chester, a card that will lose the game for whoever has it in the end. There are a few ways to offload the Chester once you’ve drawn it but...who cares?
Ultimately, for all the funny little rules Auction has, it really just comes down to luck and judgement. It’s a game that pretends to be complex.

The pictures are pretty though. The cards are painted with grisly and lurid scenes, the people within moving and enacting them without any awareness that they are but cards in a game. But you don’t let them distract you. The rounds drag on and you must do your best to match your own bid. It’s time to test your luck.

>Roll 1d6. Only the first 2 rolls will be counted.

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>2953538

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>2953538

Well that was quick

File: dicegods.png (30 KB, 1190x1104)

30 KB PNG

>1, 2
>3

You draw your next card and ah shit. There he is, the painted foreign man standing at the gates to the City wearing an absurd outfit and with an expression of stupid awe. The Chester. When the time comes to lay your cards down, the hand with this in will lose. You’re doomed!

...But you don’t have to be. You have a certain special technique for card games, one you’ve often used before. It’s called cheating. You’re not particularly good at it but you don’t have to be. After all, if someone sees you concealing a card, what are they going to say? The best they could do is imply that you did so through some innocent accident but that kind of word wrangling generally requires an awareness of your curse.
These chumps on the other hand will just try to accuse you if they see you and get their words all mixed up forever. What are they going to do about it? Maybe it was just a trick of the light. And it’s not like there’s any stakes involved!

With that in mind, you hold your hand up high as if to inspect the cards and when nobody is looking, you let the Chester fall down and wedge itself in your collar, from where you can just nudge it down further and into the inside of your bodice.
They’re welcome to check that all they want.

You draw another card…

>Through the magic of cheating, Sofia can roll one extra dice and replace one of her previous rolls with its result. Roll 1d6.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>2953562