On his way up, he notes that he must begin to think about his long-term plans as well as the difficulties of today. He will need to instigate a new type of hobgoblin breeding and education program for the rising generation of hobgoblins. Their reproductive and maturity rates are such that within a few short decades, he will be able to remake their entire race in the image that he desires. The drow will be a bit more problematic, but Shaddar hopes that the artistic renaissance that Masaxle seems intent on bringing to his people will convince the mature drow to return to their ancient and proper traditions.
These thoughts are pushed to the back burner as he opens the door to the human’s rooms.
With disgust, Shaddar sees that Jorin is still hiding under the bed, even though the riot has long since ended.
“Yes, Boss?” Bort asks.
“I know your day was interrupted by the riot, but I wondered how much of your tasks you accomplished before that unhappy event?”
Bort nods, “We did visit with five or six lads who said they would come ‘round tonight to chat with you. Hopefully they still will since the riot seems to have ended earlier than normal. I didn’t get a chance to go to the library, but I grabbed this from one of the main gates. They are free for those who have never been to Big City before.” The man hands over a small parchment that has been poorly mass-produced, but is still legible.
Shaddar quickly reads it:
A Short History of Big City
Our fair city is the oldest in all of the Realm! Founded in the lost legends of time before the Lords of the Realm fought off the darkness and Elder Evils to bring light and peace for all races across the whole world.
As the oldest city in the world, it has grown to be the largest, with a huge population of some of the wealthiest merchant families in the Realm. Although not our capital city, Big City has a rich history of goodness and culture.
Of course, none of our good fortune would be possible without the Lords of the city who insure that everything about the location is run to perfection – making the entire land surrounding Big City into a jewel – The heartstone of the Realm!
There are currently several families of Lords who call Big City home, with the most powerful and glorious High Lord Culderth’jura gracing us all with his benevolent protection and watchful care. Thank you, Your Excellency!
All citizens are given full reign by the Lords of the city to act as we will here in Big City – and although some wander from the path of goodness that has been set, most of the people and those who serve the Lords of the city choose the better path. Living a good life brings it’s own rewards as we all know!
Our brave constables and Heroes serve the populace in maintaining order and rooting out the few pockets of evil and unnaturalness that remain in the Realm. Even when villains may riot, they will be ever vigilant to repulse and punish them with a holy purge. Fear not during your stay here – all will be well!
Do your part to keep Big City beautiful and a fit treasure for her Lords – and thank a constable when you see one for the brave work that they do each and every day!
There are many interesting nuggets of knowledge within even this simple document. And a name, at least, of the master of Big City: High Lord Culderth’jura. Shaddar wonders how much freedom the people of this city have to travel.
“How difficult is it to leave the city?” he asks.
Bort seems a bit confused, “You just walk out, Boss. There’s no restrictions on movement here. And there’s lots of places out there… well, here… see for yourself.” And the man pulls out a well-worn map that also looks like a shoddy mass-produced item, much like the flyer.
So. He is not somewhere on the upper world at all, but in some kind of pocket dimension. No other explanation is possible given the spherical shape of the ‘whole world’.
Was it created by the experiment of Felinxtrath? Or was the experiment merely a method of accessing such a strange dimension?
If this world is really so tiny as is indicated on the map it also explains the childish names for the towns and cities. When there are only eight major cities, why would the people here need complex names?
“Many of these town’s names are clear, but what is distinctive about Pass Town?” he asks.
“There’s three passes through the mountains that all go through that spot so it’s a major trade route. Lots of merchandise gets traded and stored there, or so I hear.”
“And High City? Is this where the nobles of the Realm live? Of is it so named because of the mountains it is placed in?”
“Oh. I don’t know,” Bort says.
A somewhat muffled voice comes from under the bed as Jorin joins the conversation, “It’s called High City because that’s where all the Lords of the Realm live at.”
“There are no Lords who live in the city?”
“Oh, sure. We have some who live here, but mostly they like High City,” Jorin explains, “I’ve heard that they built the city just for their tastes and everyone who lives there serves them directly.”
Shaddar wonders if High City is filled with as many lunatics as Big City is, or if perhaps this is some kind of city-wide asylum. The circle of grey mist surrounding the map intrigues him.
“Tell me about this mist,” he demands.
Bort replies, “The Mist? It’s the end of the world. No one can go in there and come out alive.”
Jorin says, “And they say that… Demons live in the Mist…”
Bort rolls his eyes and continues, “Yeah, some folks do say that. There are also legends that say that all of the inhabitants first came from the Mists to populate the world. Well, except for the Elder Evils – but that’s just a foolish myth that I don't put much stock in.”
“Elder Evils? Tell me these tales,” Shaddar coaxes.
“That’s all I know really, just the name. Supposedly some kind of horrible and vile… I don’t know. Just an old story that the palehairs tell,” Bort shrugs as he answers carelessly.
“Very well,” Shaddar says thoughtfully. He will ask some of the drow about this tale. It is believed enough to be mentioned in the welcome letter to travelers, which he can only assume was approved by the Lords of the city. If they saw fit to mention it, even to brag about it, then it must have some importance.
Jorin pokes his nose from the edge of the bed and peers up at Shaddar as he asks, “Is the riot over, then, Boss?”
“Yes. You may cease your cowering.”
“What!?” Jorin begins to shimmy out from under the bed indignantly, “I’m not cowering! I’m… err… I’m cleaning under here!”
“Cleaning urine stains, perhaps?”
A dusty Jorin leaps to his feet with a flush in his cheeks, “Just what are you inferring?”
Shaddar shakes his head slowly and leaves the room while murmuring, “Oh, nothing at all, Jorin. I’ll leave you to your important, domestic endeavors.”
Bort begins laughing behind his hand at Jorin’s discomfiture as the door slips shut.
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