Hello,
Just a quick note as I know I'm late updating this week.
Sharoban's taking a month off so that real life stuff can happen and I can get my MA in Writing finished.
When we come back we'll be stepping outside the city and starting to explore the rest of the world, starting with the Steppes.
Have a lovely month and I'll see you at the end of September.
Tuesday, 26 August 2014
Sunday, 17 August 2014
The Balance of Power
Within Sharoban, there are a number of political groups, all vying for some sort of control.
The grandest and oldest is the Council. Founded by the Six, the Council is the only originator of legislation and decrees within the city. The city's rulers sit upon it though their role is largely judicial. The laws the city follows are the ones laid down by the Six. These cover the basic aspects of law and order and the entire record of laws can be read out, in its entirety, over the course of a day. In fact, one of the tenets is that all the laws must be able to be recited over the course of one day and no longer.
Politically the Council does pass laws, usually through a process of debating points amongst themselves, discussing the issues with representatives from the guilds, Church and other groups. The rest of their time is taken up with dealing with groups from outside the city. They meet regularly with the delegates from the local tribes, ambassadors from the nearby western kingdoms and members of rich mercantile syndicates. This involves a tightrope walk of trying to balance the city's interests with the demands of these groups. Merchants want lower taxes, the local tribes want more taxes and a cut from the profits the city takes, as well as being picky about their territories being violated by the trade caravans. The ambassadors want everything from specific ingredients, the ability to put (more) spies into the city and to generally drag the city state into their sphere of influence. Despite all this the current Council has managed to maintain the balance it requires with these groups. It is only when the local giants, or worse the strange figure that calls itself the Dragon's Diplomat and claims to speak for the dragon Bright Wing, come calling that alarm is registered. This might change if an army made its way to the city, but that remains a remote possibility.
Within the city, the real intrigues exist between the guilds and the Church and other groups that want to influence the process of law making. There is a tug of war between the guild leaders as they try to win concessions for their own crafts at the expense of the others. This creates an atmosphere of low-level animosity and backbiting that goes hand in hand with dirty tricks campaigns and the push towards spying amongst the most trusted aides of the guild leaders.
The merchant houses are similar; their factors constantly jockey in an effort to gain financial advantages. They usually battle via gift giving, each of them trying to curry favour by offering lavish presents to the Council members and their assistants. They often focus on the people who work behind the scenes, hoping to build influence by getting them to owe favours.
The Church has a different plan. They have an agenda to enforce the ideals of the Church. This takes the form of doing things like trying to keep the war season as short as possible and to control the more militant feelings among the Wind Strikers. They also work to encourage alms and charity in the city, and to preserve learning. They tend to do this by influencing the Council indirectly, using the people as their tool to bring pressure on decisions made in Sharoban's keep.
These three groups, which are by no means homogenous, in fact in many ways their internal politics are more of an impediment to their goals than their enemies are. However, it can be said that they represent the various voices in the city, excepting the military, and are instrumental to the maintaining the balance between trade, industry and faith. They bring pressure on the Council to enact changes in their favour and to further build influence. Through their machinations they force the Council to act, sometimes to favour them and sometimes not. Despite the power the factions bring to bear, it must be remembered that the Council is still very much in control, and it is hard to steer policy too much.
In all these factors have a piecemeal influence over the city and policy, they stymie each other regularly and often see plans fail. Whilst their intrigues have yet to bring the city to a standstill, it may only be a matter of time before it happens.
The grandest and oldest is the Council. Founded by the Six, the Council is the only originator of legislation and decrees within the city. The city's rulers sit upon it though their role is largely judicial. The laws the city follows are the ones laid down by the Six. These cover the basic aspects of law and order and the entire record of laws can be read out, in its entirety, over the course of a day. In fact, one of the tenets is that all the laws must be able to be recited over the course of one day and no longer.
Politically the Council does pass laws, usually through a process of debating points amongst themselves, discussing the issues with representatives from the guilds, Church and other groups. The rest of their time is taken up with dealing with groups from outside the city. They meet regularly with the delegates from the local tribes, ambassadors from the nearby western kingdoms and members of rich mercantile syndicates. This involves a tightrope walk of trying to balance the city's interests with the demands of these groups. Merchants want lower taxes, the local tribes want more taxes and a cut from the profits the city takes, as well as being picky about their territories being violated by the trade caravans. The ambassadors want everything from specific ingredients, the ability to put (more) spies into the city and to generally drag the city state into their sphere of influence. Despite all this the current Council has managed to maintain the balance it requires with these groups. It is only when the local giants, or worse the strange figure that calls itself the Dragon's Diplomat and claims to speak for the dragon Bright Wing, come calling that alarm is registered. This might change if an army made its way to the city, but that remains a remote possibility.
Within the city, the real intrigues exist between the guilds and the Church and other groups that want to influence the process of law making. There is a tug of war between the guild leaders as they try to win concessions for their own crafts at the expense of the others. This creates an atmosphere of low-level animosity and backbiting that goes hand in hand with dirty tricks campaigns and the push towards spying amongst the most trusted aides of the guild leaders.
The merchant houses are similar; their factors constantly jockey in an effort to gain financial advantages. They usually battle via gift giving, each of them trying to curry favour by offering lavish presents to the Council members and their assistants. They often focus on the people who work behind the scenes, hoping to build influence by getting them to owe favours.
The Church has a different plan. They have an agenda to enforce the ideals of the Church. This takes the form of doing things like trying to keep the war season as short as possible and to control the more militant feelings among the Wind Strikers. They also work to encourage alms and charity in the city, and to preserve learning. They tend to do this by influencing the Council indirectly, using the people as their tool to bring pressure on decisions made in Sharoban's keep.
These three groups, which are by no means homogenous, in fact in many ways their internal politics are more of an impediment to their goals than their enemies are. However, it can be said that they represent the various voices in the city, excepting the military, and are instrumental to the maintaining the balance between trade, industry and faith. They bring pressure on the Council to enact changes in their favour and to further build influence. Through their machinations they force the Council to act, sometimes to favour them and sometimes not. Despite the power the factions bring to bear, it must be remembered that the Council is still very much in control, and it is hard to steer policy too much.
In all these factors have a piecemeal influence over the city and policy, they stymie each other regularly and often see plans fail. Whilst their intrigues have yet to bring the city to a standstill, it may only be a matter of time before it happens.
Saturday, 9 August 2014
Politics: The Problem of Sharoban
Even out on the steppes Sharoban is not immune to the machinations of politics and intrigue. The city suffers from both internal plots and upheavals, and the shifting steps of the Great Dance between nations. This time we will consider the city's relation with the kingdoms of the west.
As Sharoban has become more affluent, it has attracted more and more attention from the western kingdoms. The city has been seen as both a boon and a curse, a place for ideas to take shape and alliances forged without the problems of domestic politics getting in the way. The fact that a good number of these treaties were thrashed out in the inns and taverns in the city was part of the appeal as was the anonymity Sharoban allowed. It was only after a number of rebellions were found to have originated in Sharoban's inns that the western kingdoms started to be more cautious and heading east became a sign for spy rings and assassins to make sure malcontents were caught, captured or killed. The city has become seen as something of a problem as a result.
The coup in Allreyda is perhaps the best way to demonstrate this. Allreyda is a nation that sits in the south of the continent, with its southern border along the shore of the Silver Sea and its eastern edge running along the steppe. To the north and west it is hemmed in by the Greycap Mountains. Twenty years ago a coup took place, killing the king and driving his family into exile, with the exception of the crown prince, Markov, who was held at the capital, Nebyezod. The coup's leader, Anders the Black, the boy's uncle declared himself regent, though most people suspect that this is a fiction designed to appease the peasants; the boy has not been seen in public for more than ten years.
How does this relate to Sharoban?
The conspirators had used Sharoban as a base for their plotting, even going so far to purchase weapons, armour and mercenaries in the city before launching their assault. The financial side of the coup also originated in the city, a number of the backers were merchants and guild leaders who saw a chance and took it. Many of the city's people did very well out of it, the financial backers were paid large dividends, mercenaries were given positions of power. Trade was bolstered too, contracts were signed with the new regent and as his banner fluttered above the palace at Nebeyezod barrels of dye, packs of eastern spices and bales of steppe hay trundled their way to the Allreydan border. In addition, as trade was pushed in the Allreydan ports Sharoban's merchants discovered that they made good money from access to a wider market. Money flowed back to the city, to the extent that there was talk of the Crimson Knights establishing a chapter house in Sharoban.
The fallout of the coup was immense in political terms. Various nations imposed blockades and refused to buy Allreydan goods.The Jorvin Empire went so far as to provide assistance to groups opposed to the new regent, though many observers felt this was simply a way to extend their influence southward in an effort to gain a foothold on the Silver Sea.
Allreyda became isolated.
Sharoban was their only friend and that only extended to the line of credit the merchants and guild masters had extended to the new regent. The Council remained resolutely neutral, despite the rumours that one of their number Feydor Shadow Sword, argued passionately in favour of Anders' cause. Despite this, there was a notable reluctance to close off relations with the Anders. It was only after the Jorvin Empire decided to expand eastward at a place called Merida's Mill, which would serve as a good place to disrupt trade and to mount an attack from, that the city quietly disengaged from Allreyda's political affairs. Trade was not disrupted but quietly discouraged nonetheless. In the meantime, the camp at Merida's Mill suffered a series of quiet acts of sabotage that eventually led to the camp being pulled back 100 miles towards the Imperial border. The culprits were never found and Sharoban has never commented on the campaign of dirty tricks, but it has been noted that a series of Wind Striker patrols swept through the area during the next few months and at least one skirmish was fought.
This encapsulates the issue that Sharoban presents to the west, it is technically part of their world but, at the same time the city sits wild and ungoverned out on the steppes; half in and out of even the Jorvin sphere of influence. As a result, Sharoban is feted for the assistance it can provide, even if that is mostly economic, and hated because it is a law unto itself and has a veneer of independence that allows it to get away with a lot more than other political entities. Sitting alone on the steppes, it is beyond the reach of most armies and the natural environment acts as a deterrent to even the toughest of the Jorvin commanders. Even if one can avoid the winter, one must deal with biting winds, ground that can turn into a sea of mud under the spring rain storms and the general lawlessness of the tribes and other denizens (an army can attract giants and hobgoblins like nobody's business) by the time Sharoban's walls are in sight troops are likely to be demoralised, tired, cold and hungry with little will to fight. Even threatening the city from afar is a delicate strategy, with no guarantee of success.
However, things may be changing. Sharoban can stand alone for the moment, but the Empire has learned to take it seriously and is slowly expanding eastward, under the name of 'living space' and the need for more land to feed the population. A new city, complete with a large temple is being built at Schwarzhugel, under the wolf banner. The southern nations have closed their borders, fearing the consequences of meddling too far. If the trend continues at the current pace, Sharoban will have the Empire as a close neighbour in the next fifty years.
Next time, we'll look how the city dances the Great Dance.
As Sharoban has become more affluent, it has attracted more and more attention from the western kingdoms. The city has been seen as both a boon and a curse, a place for ideas to take shape and alliances forged without the problems of domestic politics getting in the way. The fact that a good number of these treaties were thrashed out in the inns and taverns in the city was part of the appeal as was the anonymity Sharoban allowed. It was only after a number of rebellions were found to have originated in Sharoban's inns that the western kingdoms started to be more cautious and heading east became a sign for spy rings and assassins to make sure malcontents were caught, captured or killed. The city has become seen as something of a problem as a result.
The coup in Allreyda is perhaps the best way to demonstrate this. Allreyda is a nation that sits in the south of the continent, with its southern border along the shore of the Silver Sea and its eastern edge running along the steppe. To the north and west it is hemmed in by the Greycap Mountains. Twenty years ago a coup took place, killing the king and driving his family into exile, with the exception of the crown prince, Markov, who was held at the capital, Nebyezod. The coup's leader, Anders the Black, the boy's uncle declared himself regent, though most people suspect that this is a fiction designed to appease the peasants; the boy has not been seen in public for more than ten years.
How does this relate to Sharoban?
The conspirators had used Sharoban as a base for their plotting, even going so far to purchase weapons, armour and mercenaries in the city before launching their assault. The financial side of the coup also originated in the city, a number of the backers were merchants and guild leaders who saw a chance and took it. Many of the city's people did very well out of it, the financial backers were paid large dividends, mercenaries were given positions of power. Trade was bolstered too, contracts were signed with the new regent and as his banner fluttered above the palace at Nebeyezod barrels of dye, packs of eastern spices and bales of steppe hay trundled their way to the Allreydan border. In addition, as trade was pushed in the Allreydan ports Sharoban's merchants discovered that they made good money from access to a wider market. Money flowed back to the city, to the extent that there was talk of the Crimson Knights establishing a chapter house in Sharoban.
The fallout of the coup was immense in political terms. Various nations imposed blockades and refused to buy Allreydan goods.The Jorvin Empire went so far as to provide assistance to groups opposed to the new regent, though many observers felt this was simply a way to extend their influence southward in an effort to gain a foothold on the Silver Sea.
Allreyda became isolated.
Sharoban was their only friend and that only extended to the line of credit the merchants and guild masters had extended to the new regent. The Council remained resolutely neutral, despite the rumours that one of their number Feydor Shadow Sword, argued passionately in favour of Anders' cause. Despite this, there was a notable reluctance to close off relations with the Anders. It was only after the Jorvin Empire decided to expand eastward at a place called Merida's Mill, which would serve as a good place to disrupt trade and to mount an attack from, that the city quietly disengaged from Allreyda's political affairs. Trade was not disrupted but quietly discouraged nonetheless. In the meantime, the camp at Merida's Mill suffered a series of quiet acts of sabotage that eventually led to the camp being pulled back 100 miles towards the Imperial border. The culprits were never found and Sharoban has never commented on the campaign of dirty tricks, but it has been noted that a series of Wind Striker patrols swept through the area during the next few months and at least one skirmish was fought.
This encapsulates the issue that Sharoban presents to the west, it is technically part of their world but, at the same time the city sits wild and ungoverned out on the steppes; half in and out of even the Jorvin sphere of influence. As a result, Sharoban is feted for the assistance it can provide, even if that is mostly economic, and hated because it is a law unto itself and has a veneer of independence that allows it to get away with a lot more than other political entities. Sitting alone on the steppes, it is beyond the reach of most armies and the natural environment acts as a deterrent to even the toughest of the Jorvin commanders. Even if one can avoid the winter, one must deal with biting winds, ground that can turn into a sea of mud under the spring rain storms and the general lawlessness of the tribes and other denizens (an army can attract giants and hobgoblins like nobody's business) by the time Sharoban's walls are in sight troops are likely to be demoralised, tired, cold and hungry with little will to fight. Even threatening the city from afar is a delicate strategy, with no guarantee of success.
However, things may be changing. Sharoban can stand alone for the moment, but the Empire has learned to take it seriously and is slowly expanding eastward, under the name of 'living space' and the need for more land to feed the population. A new city, complete with a large temple is being built at Schwarzhugel, under the wolf banner. The southern nations have closed their borders, fearing the consequences of meddling too far. If the trend continues at the current pace, Sharoban will have the Empire as a close neighbour in the next fifty years.
Next time, we'll look how the city dances the Great Dance.
Sunday, 3 August 2014
Superstitions
There are stories people tell when the sun goes down. Tales of things in the night, or creatures that lurk in the winter snows. They tell tales of the broken hearted lovers who pined away to nothing at all and who long to get the feeling of love back again, of widows who invited their husbands back in after they were buried and found they had something quite different to contend with. Of men with the beast in their hearts and women with ice in their veins.
And they swear that these are true.
There are beliefs that are passed from generation to generation. Put fresh herbs above your door to ward against sickness, the spirits of pestilence will turn aside at the smell. Don't tread on your own shadow, or you'll only invite the dark gods to reach into your heart.
Call it hearth wisdom, call it the old ways, call it superstition; call it what you like. But never, ever doubt it, for the people of Sharoban are a cowardly and superstitious lot.
The beliefs that drive the everyday lives of the people of the city are frequently nothing to do with their history or religion. The Luminal Pantheon and the Shadow Gods feature, but often wedded to older, more primal beliefs that have survived from older times. These customs survive because they are so deeply embedded culturally that even the adoption of a new faith cannot wipe them out entirely. Old gods become bogeymen or spirits. Old rituals are diminished, their meaning becomes lost. Even if the old women touch the spinning wheel when they enter the house as a matter of course, the acknowledgement of the craft spirits becomes a private matter.
Superstitions in many ways are the grease on which Sharoban's society runs. From the traditions concerning beds and bonfires to the old beliefs that have been salvaged from the folk traditions everyday life, is bound with these customs. For instance, it is bad luck to wear anything new when a contract is signed. Similarly, it is considered bad luck to mention dead relatives in business matters or when a child is born, to the extent that comments about the infant having a grandfather's eyes or nose are strongly discouraged.
Alcohol-based traditions are common, drinks are used to seal deals and celebrate the traditions. This does lead to drunkenness however, leaving any drink in your glass is considered unlucky as is putting a tankard with drink in it on the table after you've begun to drink. There are rituals covering when to drink and how to drink, often governed by when one arrives or leaves, if one is married or single (married people drink twice, once for themselves and once for their spouse).
Animals are associated with luck as well. From the Jorvin Empire, the tradition of raven blessing has travelled east and it is common for the Council and the High Priest of Merida to bless the local birds. In Jorvin culture, the birds were meant to have led the settlers to the Jorn islands and when the people fled Ember's Rage, the ravens led them to safe shores. Another beast venerated by the Jorvins, wolves, are placated by prayers and blessings to keep them strong, even if the people of the city do not welcome them. More locally the bear is held to be the soul of the land, their disappearance into sleep, a sign that the winter is truly on its way. Farmers will often wait for news of bear sightings before planting crops. Cats are a thorny issue. They are celebrated as both the eyes of Mycra, the light goddess and as defenders against the things in the dark, they have also been accused of being servants of the dark gods. In some places, they have even been burned, for fear of what they're capable of.
Next: We return to the political side of the city, the council and steps of the Great Game.
And they swear that these are true.
There are beliefs that are passed from generation to generation. Put fresh herbs above your door to ward against sickness, the spirits of pestilence will turn aside at the smell. Don't tread on your own shadow, or you'll only invite the dark gods to reach into your heart.
Call it hearth wisdom, call it the old ways, call it superstition; call it what you like. But never, ever doubt it, for the people of Sharoban are a cowardly and superstitious lot.
The beliefs that drive the everyday lives of the people of the city are frequently nothing to do with their history or religion. The Luminal Pantheon and the Shadow Gods feature, but often wedded to older, more primal beliefs that have survived from older times. These customs survive because they are so deeply embedded culturally that even the adoption of a new faith cannot wipe them out entirely. Old gods become bogeymen or spirits. Old rituals are diminished, their meaning becomes lost. Even if the old women touch the spinning wheel when they enter the house as a matter of course, the acknowledgement of the craft spirits becomes a private matter.
Superstitions in many ways are the grease on which Sharoban's society runs. From the traditions concerning beds and bonfires to the old beliefs that have been salvaged from the folk traditions everyday life, is bound with these customs. For instance, it is bad luck to wear anything new when a contract is signed. Similarly, it is considered bad luck to mention dead relatives in business matters or when a child is born, to the extent that comments about the infant having a grandfather's eyes or nose are strongly discouraged.
Alcohol-based traditions are common, drinks are used to seal deals and celebrate the traditions. This does lead to drunkenness however, leaving any drink in your glass is considered unlucky as is putting a tankard with drink in it on the table after you've begun to drink. There are rituals covering when to drink and how to drink, often governed by when one arrives or leaves, if one is married or single (married people drink twice, once for themselves and once for their spouse).
Animals are associated with luck as well. From the Jorvin Empire, the tradition of raven blessing has travelled east and it is common for the Council and the High Priest of Merida to bless the local birds. In Jorvin culture, the birds were meant to have led the settlers to the Jorn islands and when the people fled Ember's Rage, the ravens led them to safe shores. Another beast venerated by the Jorvins, wolves, are placated by prayers and blessings to keep them strong, even if the people of the city do not welcome them. More locally the bear is held to be the soul of the land, their disappearance into sleep, a sign that the winter is truly on its way. Farmers will often wait for news of bear sightings before planting crops. Cats are a thorny issue. They are celebrated as both the eyes of Mycra, the light goddess and as defenders against the things in the dark, they have also been accused of being servants of the dark gods. In some places, they have even been burned, for fear of what they're capable of.
Next: We return to the political side of the city, the council and steps of the Great Game.
Saturday, 26 July 2014
Life in the Big City: The End of Life, Old Age, Death Rites and the Afterlife
Death stalks the steppes and valleys, the mountains and fields of the world. It always has and it always will; even the dragons are not immune to the grim reaper's scythe.
In Sharoban the traditions of death have grown up from many different sources and cultures. A hodge-podge of customs have been meshed together based on old wives tales, folklore, family ritual and the teachings of the Church. These bear small resemblance to what came east with the Six and their followers or to the cultures that they found and slowly absorbed into the city; though here and there a custom that can be pinned down to a definite point of origin can be seen. For instance the tradition of gathering snowdrops to mourn the dead has its origins in the Jorvin Empire and is reputed to have been brought by them from their island home, whilst the tradition of keeping a small fire burning in the room where one keeps the dead to keep them warm comes from the Salva tribe whose lands lie south of Sharoban. Customs and rituals can vary from quarter to quarter or even from street to street. Despite this, there are a few traditions that carry across the entire city.
The first of these is the death bed. Every home, even the poorest, will have a bed set aside for the sick and dying. In larger homes this is set aside in a private room, whilst in poorer houses it will be a pallet that is taken down and laid before the fire. It is considered most unlucky to die in your marriage bed, to the extent that when that happens the bed will be burned to rid the house of ill fortune. As the deathbed has a specific purpose of sheltering the dying, it does not attract bad luck.
It is believed too that the soul of the dead person cannot move on to until they have been buried, or cremated, or torn apart by animals (as the city has communities that believe all these varieties of funeral to be correct). As a result wills and legacies cannot be discussed before the funeral, to show love and respect to the departed. It is also seen as not only rude but unlucky to speak ill of the dead, and it may result in their ghost haunting the naysayer and refusing to enter the afterlife.
Funerals happen during the day, preferably on days with good weather. Practicality means that a rain storm or strong winds won't delay a funeral unless burial would be dangerous, but most people hope for sunshine and cool breezes because that is the best weather to ensure their safe journey to the underworld. It's believed that Mycra will guide them safely to the Shadow Fields where they can rest awhile before being reborn.
In Winter the ground is too hard to bury the dead, bodies are stacked in cool cellars and warded; spontaneous outbreaks of 'rising', where the dead walk, are not unknown though they are thankfully uncommon. The other threat to the dead in this season is scavengers both four-footed and two-footed. The Keep makes sure that guards and even Wind Strikers check on the dead, to ensure that nothing untoward happens to them.
Other kinds of funeral go ahead as usual in the winter and the shanty towns find they get extra custom from families who want them to take their dead relatives out to the steppes for the hawks and wolves. The pyres are kept well stocked and burn almost constantly when the winter is hard. Callously, some families 'miraculously' discover that relatives who had wanted to be buried had last minute changes of heart and actually opted to cremation. Whilst this practice is disapproved of there is little that can be done to prevent families doing it and physikers actively support the burning of the dead as it promotes public health.
Before most people reach the stage of being buried, they grow old. The old are respected in the city, mostly because to grow old in Sharoban is to be tough as nails and snake canny. In the extended families, they rule the roost, often deciding what their children and grandchildren will do without dissent. This is particularly true of Grandmothers, who prosper in the city's matriarchal culture. This is mitigated by the fact that there is no retirement, the elderly are expected to keep working unless they become too infirm to. At which point they either enter the care of their families or if their relations cannot care for them, they enter the temple's almshouse or are forced to live on the streets. At which point they die very quickly.
The city does provide some perks for the elderly, however. No public house may charge them for drinks and they may use public fountains with impunity. Many vendors sell food more cheaply to the old as a mark of respect and the gangs, in general, leave them alone.
Next week; superstitions.
In Sharoban the traditions of death have grown up from many different sources and cultures. A hodge-podge of customs have been meshed together based on old wives tales, folklore, family ritual and the teachings of the Church. These bear small resemblance to what came east with the Six and their followers or to the cultures that they found and slowly absorbed into the city; though here and there a custom that can be pinned down to a definite point of origin can be seen. For instance the tradition of gathering snowdrops to mourn the dead has its origins in the Jorvin Empire and is reputed to have been brought by them from their island home, whilst the tradition of keeping a small fire burning in the room where one keeps the dead to keep them warm comes from the Salva tribe whose lands lie south of Sharoban. Customs and rituals can vary from quarter to quarter or even from street to street. Despite this, there are a few traditions that carry across the entire city.
The first of these is the death bed. Every home, even the poorest, will have a bed set aside for the sick and dying. In larger homes this is set aside in a private room, whilst in poorer houses it will be a pallet that is taken down and laid before the fire. It is considered most unlucky to die in your marriage bed, to the extent that when that happens the bed will be burned to rid the house of ill fortune. As the deathbed has a specific purpose of sheltering the dying, it does not attract bad luck.
It is believed too that the soul of the dead person cannot move on to until they have been buried, or cremated, or torn apart by animals (as the city has communities that believe all these varieties of funeral to be correct). As a result wills and legacies cannot be discussed before the funeral, to show love and respect to the departed. It is also seen as not only rude but unlucky to speak ill of the dead, and it may result in their ghost haunting the naysayer and refusing to enter the afterlife.
Funerals happen during the day, preferably on days with good weather. Practicality means that a rain storm or strong winds won't delay a funeral unless burial would be dangerous, but most people hope for sunshine and cool breezes because that is the best weather to ensure their safe journey to the underworld. It's believed that Mycra will guide them safely to the Shadow Fields where they can rest awhile before being reborn.
In Winter the ground is too hard to bury the dead, bodies are stacked in cool cellars and warded; spontaneous outbreaks of 'rising', where the dead walk, are not unknown though they are thankfully uncommon. The other threat to the dead in this season is scavengers both four-footed and two-footed. The Keep makes sure that guards and even Wind Strikers check on the dead, to ensure that nothing untoward happens to them.
Other kinds of funeral go ahead as usual in the winter and the shanty towns find they get extra custom from families who want them to take their dead relatives out to the steppes for the hawks and wolves. The pyres are kept well stocked and burn almost constantly when the winter is hard. Callously, some families 'miraculously' discover that relatives who had wanted to be buried had last minute changes of heart and actually opted to cremation. Whilst this practice is disapproved of there is little that can be done to prevent families doing it and physikers actively support the burning of the dead as it promotes public health.
Before most people reach the stage of being buried, they grow old. The old are respected in the city, mostly because to grow old in Sharoban is to be tough as nails and snake canny. In the extended families, they rule the roost, often deciding what their children and grandchildren will do without dissent. This is particularly true of Grandmothers, who prosper in the city's matriarchal culture. This is mitigated by the fact that there is no retirement, the elderly are expected to keep working unless they become too infirm to. At which point they either enter the care of their families or if their relations cannot care for them, they enter the temple's almshouse or are forced to live on the streets. At which point they die very quickly.
The city does provide some perks for the elderly, however. No public house may charge them for drinks and they may use public fountains with impunity. Many vendors sell food more cheaply to the old as a mark of respect and the gangs, in general, leave them alone.
Next week; superstitions.
Friday, 18 July 2014
Life in the Big City: Courtship, Marriage, and Children
Just as in the real world the people in Sharoban fall in love, marry and have children. For many of them this is their overriding concern, whether because of love, business or the desire to achieve some sort of legacy. There are political and dynastic matches, marriages for love and money, and even revenge. Relationships grow cold, stay warm against all odds, and end in disaster. Some even end in murder or divorce. Some never really start, leaving both partners lost in a world that seems to be set against them.
The beginning of a relationship very much depends on who you are. It is likely that parents, guardians and masters will be involved in the process at the very beginning and most matches are set in motion by older people. A pair of rich merchants might arrange for their children to wed in order to consolidate their fortunes or a guild master might introduce a star apprentice to the right person for the specific reason of creating a match. It is in their interest to do so as it encourages loyalty from their proteges and helps them along with their lives; within a large part of the city there is an ethos that leaving people behind is amoral and so it is the duty of people with more luck, wealth and power to help those less fortunate than themselves. Even within the lower classes this practice holds true and it is hardly uncommon for a young man to come home to find his parents waiting for him with some important news about his future; and his bride. Most matches are made about the age of fifteen, and signals the start of a slow courtship that lasts many years.
What follows is usually a series of chaperoned meetings initially at the families' homes, later in public places. Before these public dates occur there is some expectation of commitment on both sides. Commonly this takes the form of gift giving, usually something that can be worn or carried and ideally something made by the lovers for each other. Scarves are popular as are hats and pieces of jewellery and small knives. After this, the match is presumed to be official and on its way to marriage.
Amongst older people who are unmarried (who are often considered to be ne'er-do-wells, on account of their lack of attachments), the road to marriage is less controlled but more chaotic. Men are expected to take the lead here, pitching their suit to women they like. Women do sometimes make the first move, but it's rare enough to be commented on. Again the couple are expected to exchange gifts before their match is considered official; they are also expected to have a short engagement and if more than six months passes between betrothal and marriage the relationship is considered a dead duck.
Weddings take place in the temple, and group weddings are not uncommon if there are a lot of ceremonies that coincide. There is no official colour to get married, for either sex, but everyone will wear their best clothes. Both brides and grooms wear garlands of flowers and silver bracelets to signify the day. They enter the temple together and stand before the priests with their parents close by. From there oaths are exchanged and, in a throwback to an old tradition, bread and salt are given as gifts. Songs are sung and blessings given. Traditionally these are centred on fertility and prosperity rather than happiness. The newlyweds usually move into the bride's home, living with her family until they can afford a home of their own.
Many couples, especially amongst the poor never officially get married. Instead, they simply move into together and go from there. There is no stigma in this though the priests of Merida will offer a blessing if the couple decides they want to legitimise the relationship. Official marriage is not considered seemly in these circumstances and particularly if there are children (though none of the priests can really point to a specific prohibition on this).
Except in specific cases married couples are expected to have children, and quickly. The usual pattern is that the first child will be born within the first two years of the marriage to much celebration. Street parties to welcome a newborn, especially if the child is couples firstborn, aren't uncommon, as the family splash out to celebrate their good fortune. It doesn't matter if the child is male or female, every new life is considered special and celebrated as such. Children are born in the marriage bed and for the last few months of any pregnancy this is the wife's bed. The husband will find somewhere else to sleep and must wait to be invited back in postpartum. Some unfortunate husbands never return to the marriage bed, much to their chagrin.
Children are named within the first six months of life at a ceremony where they are presented with a cup of wine and a loaf of bread to symbolise their needs. Often they will be given gifts, most of which will be useless to them for the first few years of life, but which they will grow into. These are often connected with a trade or profession. They will stay with their mother or grandparents for the first seven years of life, when their official education begins. After this, most children only see their families at high days and when their masters or teachers release them. This is a situation which will continue until they are fully grown and ready to begin families of their own.
Next week we consider the end of life, old age, death and funerals.
The beginning of a relationship very much depends on who you are. It is likely that parents, guardians and masters will be involved in the process at the very beginning and most matches are set in motion by older people. A pair of rich merchants might arrange for their children to wed in order to consolidate their fortunes or a guild master might introduce a star apprentice to the right person for the specific reason of creating a match. It is in their interest to do so as it encourages loyalty from their proteges and helps them along with their lives; within a large part of the city there is an ethos that leaving people behind is amoral and so it is the duty of people with more luck, wealth and power to help those less fortunate than themselves. Even within the lower classes this practice holds true and it is hardly uncommon for a young man to come home to find his parents waiting for him with some important news about his future; and his bride. Most matches are made about the age of fifteen, and signals the start of a slow courtship that lasts many years.
What follows is usually a series of chaperoned meetings initially at the families' homes, later in public places. Before these public dates occur there is some expectation of commitment on both sides. Commonly this takes the form of gift giving, usually something that can be worn or carried and ideally something made by the lovers for each other. Scarves are popular as are hats and pieces of jewellery and small knives. After this, the match is presumed to be official and on its way to marriage.
Amongst older people who are unmarried (who are often considered to be ne'er-do-wells, on account of their lack of attachments), the road to marriage is less controlled but more chaotic. Men are expected to take the lead here, pitching their suit to women they like. Women do sometimes make the first move, but it's rare enough to be commented on. Again the couple are expected to exchange gifts before their match is considered official; they are also expected to have a short engagement and if more than six months passes between betrothal and marriage the relationship is considered a dead duck.
Weddings take place in the temple, and group weddings are not uncommon if there are a lot of ceremonies that coincide. There is no official colour to get married, for either sex, but everyone will wear their best clothes. Both brides and grooms wear garlands of flowers and silver bracelets to signify the day. They enter the temple together and stand before the priests with their parents close by. From there oaths are exchanged and, in a throwback to an old tradition, bread and salt are given as gifts. Songs are sung and blessings given. Traditionally these are centred on fertility and prosperity rather than happiness. The newlyweds usually move into the bride's home, living with her family until they can afford a home of their own.
Many couples, especially amongst the poor never officially get married. Instead, they simply move into together and go from there. There is no stigma in this though the priests of Merida will offer a blessing if the couple decides they want to legitimise the relationship. Official marriage is not considered seemly in these circumstances and particularly if there are children (though none of the priests can really point to a specific prohibition on this).
Except in specific cases married couples are expected to have children, and quickly. The usual pattern is that the first child will be born within the first two years of the marriage to much celebration. Street parties to welcome a newborn, especially if the child is couples firstborn, aren't uncommon, as the family splash out to celebrate their good fortune. It doesn't matter if the child is male or female, every new life is considered special and celebrated as such. Children are born in the marriage bed and for the last few months of any pregnancy this is the wife's bed. The husband will find somewhere else to sleep and must wait to be invited back in postpartum. Some unfortunate husbands never return to the marriage bed, much to their chagrin.
Children are named within the first six months of life at a ceremony where they are presented with a cup of wine and a loaf of bread to symbolise their needs. Often they will be given gifts, most of which will be useless to them for the first few years of life, but which they will grow into. These are often connected with a trade or profession. They will stay with their mother or grandparents for the first seven years of life, when their official education begins. After this, most children only see their families at high days and when their masters or teachers release them. This is a situation which will continue until they are fully grown and ready to begin families of their own.
Next week we consider the end of life, old age, death and funerals.
Saturday, 12 July 2014
Life in the city: Food, Fashion and Tradition
This week we look at what it means to live in Sharoban and be a part of its culture. The lenses we're going to use will be food, fashion and, ahem, frolicking; or carousing and courting if you prefer.
Food
Most people in the city eat simply, with a focus on soups and stews, black bread and porridge. They drink thin wine and mead, saving medvuka (a fermented honey drink with spices) for special occasions and the depths of winter. Kvass, a sort of liquid bread, is also drunk and often forms a sizable chunk of the poor's diet. The drink is so ubiquitous however that it is drunk for breakfast by pretty much everybody, and is supplemented by fruit or meat.
The local farms produce cabbages and root vegetables. There are species of stunted grains that managed to ripen despite the harshest wind, ensuring the city has rye and barley. The fine white breads and heavy fruit loaves favoured by the well off rely on imported grain and dried fruits from the west whilst noodles have been appropriated from eastern merchants and turned into a local delicacy. Local orchards grow apples and pears, which are seldom fermented as they are highly valued as fruit. The most common way for them to be consumed is with bread and honey.
In terms of meat, sheep and goat are favoured during the summer and beef during the winter after the herds have been culled. In times of great distress, horse is eaten, but they are generally considered too important to waste on mere food even when famine threatens. Much of the meat finds its way into pelmeni, meat-filled dumplings which are considered quite a delicacy, and on the city's high days haunches are cooked in porridge.
In contrast, when famine strikes many of the city's burghers are forced to subsist on a diet of birch bark pounded into pulp, mixed with husks and straw. An unsavoury meal at the best of time, it seems to slip the minds of all people that this meal is not uncommon in the shanty towns at the best of times as well as the worst, and only the Temple of Merida makes an effort to alleviate the situation by providing thick broths and hard bread for the people there.
Fashion
Clothing in the city is made from wool and linen and tends to be dyed red, green or, of course, blue. Black and purple cloth is very rare indeed and stands a mark of great wealth as does the presence of a great deal of leather, unless it's armour, or even a small amount of silk. Women wear long gowns that tie in various places with complicated knots and buckles, and head scarves. Men wear hose and long coats that end at the knee. Again, they are tied or buckled, owing to a lack of buttons. They wear round hats, which are often lined with fur. Both sexes layer their clothing, wearing plain linen undergarments under their richer outer clothing. One effect of this is that the outer clothing stays relatively clean as it collects the dirt from the street and the linen garments absorb the odours of the wearer.
In winter, cloaks become an obligatory form of clothing to keep out the cold. Made of the heaviest wool they are often lined to make them more waterproof and brightly dyed and patterned. Fur too, is common in this season and the pelts of bear, wolf, lion, beaver, and tiger are seen in Sharoban's streets as part of one piece of clothing or another. The rarest of these furs is the white wolf and as a consequence it is mostly commonly seen around the Keep and the Old City. The white wolf's fur is a sign of nobility and generally the entire skin will be used for a cloak, rather than simply lining a woollen one.
On holidays, everyone wears blue, especially on the annual celebration of the city's founding. Beyond that there is no particularly rhyme or reason to colour choices, though rich people often sport clothes with gold thread embellishments.
In terms of footwear, both men and women wear boots in the main, reserving less sturdy footwear for dances and parties. It is customary to change shoes upon arriving home, so as not to track the street inside. Most people wear either sandals or soft linen shoes about the house and it is considered rude not to wash your feet upon arriving home. Most households keep a jug and ewer of water by the front door. Apart from during the winter children often go barefoot or wear soft moccasins as it is not being seen as worth the money to purchase shoes that will have to be discarded within a season. In winter they wear hand me down boots, stuffed rags and straw. During the rainy season when the ground is often turned to mud, women wear pattens to keep their shoes free of mud and other things.
Turning to armour, the leather that does not end up in boots or horse's tack is boiled and turned into tough leather jerkins. Metal armour is still quite rare for common soldiers and chain armour coats are reserved for the important soldiers. Whilst there are stories of heavier armour, there is little appetite for such innovations in the city's military: Sharoban's fighting force is designed to fast and light; they depend on the ability to travel fast and anything that will slow them down is viewed with suspicion.
Traditions
Outside of the holy days there are many opportunities for the people of Sharoban to meet, socialise and fall in love. Whilst the winter drives people off the streets, spring and summer are the traditional time to meet and if you are lucky, fall in love. Taverns are permitted to stay open a few hours after sundown, creating a drinking culture that relies on drinking strong liqueur very fast. It's very popular with the young, but the Guard is less enthusiastic, just because of the amount of work it can make.
Dances are popular, whether they recall the traditions from before the city was founded, like the Blessing of the Orchards, where the young women dance amongst the trees until the point where the young men chase them, or are part of the burghers' established social calendars. The guilds hold dances for the journeymen and it is here that the strongest influence to arrange matches comes into play, as the guild masters try to find suitable matches for their proteges and to protect guild secrets. Consequently matches within guilds are the most common, with a few between allied guilds taking place every year.
The nobility hold dances too, but these are much more formal and carry different stakes. It is true that for the young the first dances of the season will often be the ones where their partners are selected by their families, and frequently where they find the people they will have quiet affairs with once they are married. But many of these parties have a political dimension that goes beyond affairs of the heart. Treaties and trade deals are discussed, diplomacy is practiced and the steps of the Great Game, which Sharoban tries so hard to stay out of are danced as deftly as the steps of the rondel.
Within military circles, the focus of socialising is usually the Dinner, taking the opportunity to gather about the table and share food and stories with comrades. Amongst the Wind Strikers there are two grand dinners, one at the start of the war season and the other at the end. Both are solemn affairs, where death is acknowledged tales of heroism exchanged and, to lighten the mood, games are played.
Next week we'll look at romance, marriage, childbirth and child rearing.
Food
Most people in the city eat simply, with a focus on soups and stews, black bread and porridge. They drink thin wine and mead, saving medvuka (a fermented honey drink with spices) for special occasions and the depths of winter. Kvass, a sort of liquid bread, is also drunk and often forms a sizable chunk of the poor's diet. The drink is so ubiquitous however that it is drunk for breakfast by pretty much everybody, and is supplemented by fruit or meat.
The local farms produce cabbages and root vegetables. There are species of stunted grains that managed to ripen despite the harshest wind, ensuring the city has rye and barley. The fine white breads and heavy fruit loaves favoured by the well off rely on imported grain and dried fruits from the west whilst noodles have been appropriated from eastern merchants and turned into a local delicacy. Local orchards grow apples and pears, which are seldom fermented as they are highly valued as fruit. The most common way for them to be consumed is with bread and honey.
In terms of meat, sheep and goat are favoured during the summer and beef during the winter after the herds have been culled. In times of great distress, horse is eaten, but they are generally considered too important to waste on mere food even when famine threatens. Much of the meat finds its way into pelmeni, meat-filled dumplings which are considered quite a delicacy, and on the city's high days haunches are cooked in porridge.
In contrast, when famine strikes many of the city's burghers are forced to subsist on a diet of birch bark pounded into pulp, mixed with husks and straw. An unsavoury meal at the best of time, it seems to slip the minds of all people that this meal is not uncommon in the shanty towns at the best of times as well as the worst, and only the Temple of Merida makes an effort to alleviate the situation by providing thick broths and hard bread for the people there.
Fashion
Clothing in the city is made from wool and linen and tends to be dyed red, green or, of course, blue. Black and purple cloth is very rare indeed and stands a mark of great wealth as does the presence of a great deal of leather, unless it's armour, or even a small amount of silk. Women wear long gowns that tie in various places with complicated knots and buckles, and head scarves. Men wear hose and long coats that end at the knee. Again, they are tied or buckled, owing to a lack of buttons. They wear round hats, which are often lined with fur. Both sexes layer their clothing, wearing plain linen undergarments under their richer outer clothing. One effect of this is that the outer clothing stays relatively clean as it collects the dirt from the street and the linen garments absorb the odours of the wearer.
In winter, cloaks become an obligatory form of clothing to keep out the cold. Made of the heaviest wool they are often lined to make them more waterproof and brightly dyed and patterned. Fur too, is common in this season and the pelts of bear, wolf, lion, beaver, and tiger are seen in Sharoban's streets as part of one piece of clothing or another. The rarest of these furs is the white wolf and as a consequence it is mostly commonly seen around the Keep and the Old City. The white wolf's fur is a sign of nobility and generally the entire skin will be used for a cloak, rather than simply lining a woollen one.
On holidays, everyone wears blue, especially on the annual celebration of the city's founding. Beyond that there is no particularly rhyme or reason to colour choices, though rich people often sport clothes with gold thread embellishments.
In terms of footwear, both men and women wear boots in the main, reserving less sturdy footwear for dances and parties. It is customary to change shoes upon arriving home, so as not to track the street inside. Most people wear either sandals or soft linen shoes about the house and it is considered rude not to wash your feet upon arriving home. Most households keep a jug and ewer of water by the front door. Apart from during the winter children often go barefoot or wear soft moccasins as it is not being seen as worth the money to purchase shoes that will have to be discarded within a season. In winter they wear hand me down boots, stuffed rags and straw. During the rainy season when the ground is often turned to mud, women wear pattens to keep their shoes free of mud and other things.
Turning to armour, the leather that does not end up in boots or horse's tack is boiled and turned into tough leather jerkins. Metal armour is still quite rare for common soldiers and chain armour coats are reserved for the important soldiers. Whilst there are stories of heavier armour, there is little appetite for such innovations in the city's military: Sharoban's fighting force is designed to fast and light; they depend on the ability to travel fast and anything that will slow them down is viewed with suspicion.
Traditions
Outside of the holy days there are many opportunities for the people of Sharoban to meet, socialise and fall in love. Whilst the winter drives people off the streets, spring and summer are the traditional time to meet and if you are lucky, fall in love. Taverns are permitted to stay open a few hours after sundown, creating a drinking culture that relies on drinking strong liqueur very fast. It's very popular with the young, but the Guard is less enthusiastic, just because of the amount of work it can make.
Dances are popular, whether they recall the traditions from before the city was founded, like the Blessing of the Orchards, where the young women dance amongst the trees until the point where the young men chase them, or are part of the burghers' established social calendars. The guilds hold dances for the journeymen and it is here that the strongest influence to arrange matches comes into play, as the guild masters try to find suitable matches for their proteges and to protect guild secrets. Consequently matches within guilds are the most common, with a few between allied guilds taking place every year.
The nobility hold dances too, but these are much more formal and carry different stakes. It is true that for the young the first dances of the season will often be the ones where their partners are selected by their families, and frequently where they find the people they will have quiet affairs with once they are married. But many of these parties have a political dimension that goes beyond affairs of the heart. Treaties and trade deals are discussed, diplomacy is practiced and the steps of the Great Game, which Sharoban tries so hard to stay out of are danced as deftly as the steps of the rondel.
Within military circles, the focus of socialising is usually the Dinner, taking the opportunity to gather about the table and share food and stories with comrades. Amongst the Wind Strikers there are two grand dinners, one at the start of the war season and the other at the end. Both are solemn affairs, where death is acknowledged tales of heroism exchanged and, to lighten the mood, games are played.
Next week we'll look at romance, marriage, childbirth and child rearing.
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