In reply to Carl (msg # 9):

He studies you for a long thirty seconds.

"Oh, boy. You really are a noob. Hou, scusem." The Oriental gent, Hou, scoots over and lets Gecko sit next to you.

"You, me, brother, we're versers, worldwalkers, gatesmen. The Needle and Thread in the Hand of God. Whatever you want to call us."

He points to the giant who responds more gently.

"I am Sir Olaf, seeking a position in the Neo Varangian Guard and trading rights for my kin on our dimension travelling ship."

Hou leans forward.

"I am a monk of the Seven Fold Path, and seek learning if I may gain admittance into Byzantia.  Its libraries and archives are famous across many timelines. I came here riding the back of a lung."

"We two," Says Gecko,"Arrived by accident. And this is my fourth world if you count the first which was Earth in 2074. So when did you leave Earth?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:26, Tue 12 May 2020.

I listen, the attentive student, bewildered, bemused, and inwardly philosophical about what I was hearing. Worldwalkers? What the..? Was he saying that this was the physical counterpart to an astral journey, having somehow brought our flesh along with us? I did not know, and kept quiet, heeding my... were they elders or youngers? Oh dear.

Varangian? Hmm... didn't they have dealings with my ancestors in Kievan Rus? I thought that might be the case, if I was interpreting the name of this guard correctly - which I had no assurance that I was even hearing all the nuances in how it was pronounced. To Sir Olaf, I attempted another seated bow in imitation of what Hou had done when he had bowed to me a short while ago.

Hou's speech of libraries was an immediate (and strong) reason for me to feel attracted to him. The Seven Fold Path might not be the Eightfold Path I knew something of, but I also knew that there were many variations of spiritual discipline and guidance leading to the same destination. That he had ridden a lung, one of the fabled Eastern dragons of Heaven, was another powerful cause to be respectful and heed his wisdom. I bowed to him again like a monkey trying to imitate humans he was watching.

Answering Gecko, I said (and hoped I was understandable), "It was 2020 last I knew, Gecko, but if we are dealing with multiple planes of existence, what assures that we share a calendar?"

In reply to Carl (msg # 11):

Sir Olaf responds by crossing his right arm over his chest and hitting his heart along with a short nod. Hou bows back.

Gecko blinks. His jaw drops.  Sir Olaf peals out laughter.

"That, uh, that is a very good question." Gecko says. He glances at the other two.

"My kin, we visit dimensions near ours.  It is the seventeenth century after Christ for most of our visits." Sir Olaf says.

"5642 years after the Creation of the World by the Celestial Emperor." Hou says.  "And the Byzanti list years from the founding of their City, so it is 1412 for them."

It did sound like Sir Olaf might be related to the Vikings.  Hou does have a kindly serenity to  himself.  Gecko on the other hand is kind of twitchy.

"I've met three other worldwalkers.  All came from Earth. Or versions of it. But I keep finding out how little I know." Gecko says.  Hou nods in approval.

Sir Olaf says "Yes, you have to watch your assumptions when you start a new trade relationship.  My father still yells at me for the time I tried to trade on Christmas Day with the Daekari.  See, they thought since it was Christmas, it was all gifts...so I ended up with no profits at all for that trip."

I filed Sir Olaf's bow away in memory for later as another cultural mannerism to possibly practice.

"Even in a single world, calendars and practices differ, Gecko. Taking Christmas as an example; where I live it is commonly honored on the 25th of December. But where my mother lives, Christmas gifts are exchanged on the 6th of January rather than at the holy day itself. I see the new year being celebrated on three different dates by the community around me every year, and that is just the public ones. Three different calendars. And at least two more calendars being used by some folks within the community, carried over from their own ancestral cultures."

Another example which crosses my thoughts, though not my lips, was Valentines Day. Feb. 14th in America, March 8th in Ukraine, while in Japan it had a sister holiday on March 14th for reciprocation of the love expressed in Feb.

In reply to Carl (msg # 13):

"Hunh. Well the megacorps would not have agreed to that, I think.  We were all pretty much the same whether you lived in the Arctic Arcologies or Neotokyo or in the Sprawl.  You could get Kentucky Fried Chicken patty melts anywhere in the world paid for with a stolen American Express card.  The other worlds since then, I did not travel that far." Gecko says.

"The members of the Imperial Party and the Mandarin class all celebrate the Dragon Emperor's birthday.  But that changes as do emperor's.  And some groups revere certain past emperor's and thus celebrate their birthdays as well." Hou adds.  He pulls out a wooden covered book from his sleeve, and asks you several questions about the calendars in your world which he notes down.

A few minutes later, the door swings open, and a woman dressed in splendid robes covered with elaborate embroidery, some in thread of gold stands in the doorway.  Two men in light armor stand behind her.

"Welcome, newcomer. You may ask three questions, and then I would like you to come with me."

I looked puzzled for a few heartbeats, hearing Gecko name 'Neotokyo' as a place in his Earth. Then 'Arcologies' and 'the Sprawl' clicked, and a book cover floated in my mind's eye. Shadowrun?!?

One eyebrow went up, like Mr. Spock. "Arctic Arcologies? Sprawl? Gecko... is there a dragon named Dunkelzahn in your Earth?" My eyebrows both lowered in confusion, and I continued, "Wait... no, you're from 2074 and he died in 20... sometime in the 2050s, wasn't it? So he'd be dead and mourned, if it's the same Earth."

My head shook convulsively from side to side for a few moments, a not-infrequent tic after one of these memory events.

-------------------

I was quite glad to answer Hou's questions, giving what I knew of various calendars and differences around the world.

-------------------------

Heeding the words of the lady, and noting that she has guards, I repeat my imitation of Hou's bow deeply towards her. "Lady, greetings. Fair meeting," I said, using a greeting from the stories of High Hallack and the Witch World.

I look at Hou and at Olaf for any ideas of how to precede before asking my first permitted question. And to get a clue as to whether I'd already blundered socially.

In reply to Carl (msg # 15):

"Dragon? Uh, no." Gecko says.  "We didn't have a dragon.  Hou has one, but not me."

You glance at Hou, and he gravely pulls out a red wooden circle hung on a silk string around his neck.  In the midst of the circle is a wooden figurine of a lung.  You can feel an immensity coming off from it, as if it was something much more than it appeared to be.

The woman smiles, and the other two nod that you're doing fine.

"A well mannered guest is a treasure. Thus, in the name of the Christos, well come to the Entry Port of Byzantia." And she holds her right hand up in a manner you might have seen in an icon.

I was quite impressed by the sight and sense of the dragon, reinforcing my strong positive feelings regarding Hou.

---------------------

I was all attentive and polite, heeding the women, until she said a certain title. 'Christos' was, to me, something that recalled the Battle of Verden and thousands slaughtered for staying true to their own beliefs. The Thagirion aspect of the savior, so prevalent in modern-day America, rather than the Tipheret aspect that led upwards into the greater light. Nonetheless, I tried to hold to my best manners, mindful that I was a guest in a strange place with no papers or understanding of just how I'd gotten here, despite Gecko's words earlier.

"Thank you. If I might ask my first question, o' Lady of the Byzanti, what are the laws which I need to heed and obey while in your lands?"

"Well asked." She pulls out from her poofy sleeve a small booklet with a splendidly decorated baroque cover in jewel tones, and hands it to you.  Inside, it looks like a cousin to the Book of Kells.  And you can tell from the leather cover, and the general feel that this is a very durable booklet.

"We follow the Ten Commandments, the Golden Rule, Respect for Hierarchy, and the Preference for our Own.  If you join a guild, society, club, or order they will impose other rules on you.  All in the City Forever under the Emperor's Shadow must also follow the Regulations of Good Manners and Smooth Behavior.  These rules which are limited in number by Imperial Decree to three thousand are not for moral purposes, but to enable a vast number of people to live together in harmony.  If you gain higher rank, there are rules you must follow.  If you disagree with a Judgement, you may Challenge, but your opponent chooses the form of the Challenge."

Her statement sounds practised.

"Next?" She gives you a small smile.

OOC: Tipheret and Thagiron is going to send me to google.

I held the booklet in both hands like a wary chipmunk with a sunflower seed, unsure whether to read it now or ask the rest of my... yes, ask the questions. Do not waste her time when I can review this as time permits.

Hmm. Behind my dark glasses thoughts churned. I knew (or thought I did) what the Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule were. Respect for Hierarchy brought mental flashes of She Who Lives In Her Name to mind, a gaming reference rather than something sensible from real life. Preference for Our Own? That seemed like so many societies, sadly, but if she emphasized it at the same level as the Golden Rule perhaps there was more to it than it sounded. Good manners and smooth behavior could trip me up in any number of ways, with cultural variation and differences, as I'd learned in several cultural anthropology courses as well as from hard experience in real life.

Now what would be the sensible thing to ask by human standards. No, don't ask where the Which of the What She Did is. Hmm. Dare I bite the bullet and bring THAT up right at the start? It might save me grief later on, if they are open-minded, or it might promptly doom me, seeing as how religion seems to be very big here and too many religious folks back home reacted to THAT with dogmatic hatred first, tolerance perhaps fourth or fifth. Better not. Religion, though... that gave me an idea. And a bit of gratitude to the teacher of that online class on magic, witchcraft, and religion a few summers back.

"Pardon if I am getting the wrong impression, but it sounds to me as if the secular and the theological are intimately intertwined here. That being said, in the... world... I am from, there are countless sects who claim to follow Christ, yet are often at each others' throats as if bitter enemies. How are misbelievers treated in Byzantia?"

"The Emperor is both secular lord as Emperor and High Priest as regards religion.  He changes hats and robes and palaces when he makes pronouncements as one or the other.  To be counted as Christian here, one must publically agree to the Apostolic Code, and profess a personal experience of Regeneration.  Lying is severely punished."

By the way she says 'severely' you're thinking 'off with their head'.

"To gain the middle ranks, you must be of our type of Christianity.  But someone like Sir Olaf here could gain a petite nobility in minor form for valiant service in the Emperor's Own.  The Honorable and Wise Dragonrider, Hou, could not, but if he passes his Academic Challenge as I am sure he will, he will be welcome for one year and a day in the Port and the Lower City and the Libraries of the Upper City.  Gecko, as a verser, has an easier passage here, and he is not Christian either.  He is....?"

"I, well, I ...God exists.  Yeah.  And I think we live after death, but y'know, I don't know, but I am willing to  go along with your Commandments and this Golden Rule thing seems pretty good actually.  I wish the megacorps had heard of it."

"An untrained agnostic.  He may become welcome in the Port.  Atheists and infernalists are of course not welcome anywhere.  Practise of any variety of infernalism is death."

She seems serene.  And at the same time, you feel as if something is touching your mind.

'Personal experience of regeneration' was meaningless to me. I understood and had trouble accepting that the Emperor was also the highest spiritual authority, mediating between his people and God, but memory failed me as to what regeneration might mean in this context. As far as the Apostolic Code, I was unsure that I had ever read it. Perhaps I had, perhaps not.

Lying was severely punished? That could be like Erogenia where lying was treated as worse than murder. And the impression of Wonderland's Queen of Hearts didn't help my native tendencies towards depression.

But her mention of infernalists got an immediate wince. Oh, crap... THAT ancestry alone is going to get me massive trouble, regardless of my own beliefs, isn't it? Christians seemed buggered enough over Jewish heritage without bringing bearing Lilith's demonic bloodline into things.

The touch on my mind was startling, and thoughts splayed in all directions.

In reply to Carl (msg # 21):

"Your next question?" She asks.  She shows no sign of being aware of your near panic.  But she might just have a very good poker face.

It took long seconds to pull myself together and consider what to ask for my third and final question. Memories of reading about methods to block mental contact swept across my mind's third eye, but those were fiction weren't they? The 'Nuri Lock' technique of the Witches of Karres, the sliding wall used in The Dancers of Arun, the mirrored mind from Time Is The Simplest Thing, and more.

I knew that I should ask about proper etiquette, for someone of the lowest status dealing with and addressing those far above me, but instead what I blurted out was, "What's a verser?"

In reply to Carl (msg # 23):

"By a process we're uncertain of, electrically charged interdimensional oil, called Scriff, is bonded to a human.  The result is that he is unaging, and if he suffers fatal trauma, he leaves the universe he is in, and goes to another in an uncontrolled manner. Where he is then alive in that universe. Which is why the entrance requirements for versers are lower.  Sir Olaf and the Honorable Hou both chose to come here.  Gecko and you did not."

"Now, follow me."

She turns and leaves.  You follow her and the guards are behind you.

As you walk through the passageways, you hear a thudding noise.  And then around the corner comes a hundred men in white robes and sandals who are running in unison, two abreast.  And you hear a voice from behiind them shout out.

"My grandmother could run faster than that.  With crutches and a broken leg.  So lets say we speed it up to doubletime and sing the Latin Our Father as well."  With grimaces all the sweating mass picks up speed and starts belting out a song.

As you go on, you see a sign that says Level Thirty Armory, and one that says 30-g Bowcaster.  You go down metal stairs two levels and hear a more rhythmic subdued shush shush.

"Steam engines to power the Entrance Fort. Do you have those in your world, verser?"

I followed obediently, pondering this explanation. When the... constable class? approached, then passed by, I hugged the side of the passage to minimize being in their way, but still mindful of both the Lady and the guards so as to not disobey nor cause them inconvenience.

Latin? Hmm. I knew enough to puzzle out small bits written in the language with difficulty, much as I could in Italian and several others, but my knowledge of the spoken tongue was scant. Hearing and imitating songs did not teach you the language they were in, no matter how lovely the music.

"I'm not sure... pardon, your Ladyship, let me correct that. We probably do, but my knowledge of steampunk and locomotives is very limited," I answered. Steam-powered trains were what came to mind from the term steam engines, and the adventures of Agatha Heterodyne jumped to mind far faster than historical engineering of that era.

In reply to Carl (msg # 25):

"What is a locomotive?"

She asks then ushers you a bit later into a courtroom.  An older man in a scarlet robe even more baroque than the lady's robe is sitting behind a high desk of black wood. The ceiling is covered in half egg curved pictures of wicked deeds, and terrible punishments for those deeds.  Its beautiful and ornate. She walks up to him and speaks quietly for a few minutes.
Then the judge motions you forward.

"Mr. Carl, verser, this is a first preliminary hearing.  You may address me as Your Excellency Rianjen.  I must first give you four choices before proceeding.  After all, you may not need my services at all.

We of Byzanti operate door links to certain nearby timelines where barbarian tribes that we trade regularly with live.  The Soth, the Vex, the Goth, the Vandals, and the Arabs.  We also have a port where dimensional travelling ships operate where you might buy a ticket, or bargain for passage.  You may also apply to work as a servitor in the Port area of the Entry Fort.  You may also apply to enter Byzanti proper for a year and a day.  After which you might meet me again for further decisions.  The first two choices require no further action on my part except for me to stamp an approval on your exit visa.  Which I will gladly do."

I blinked behind my dark glasses, taken aback by that question. I tried to describe what a locomotive, or train, was, and how they were used to move freight and people across a nation the width of a continent. Thoughts of hobo culture crossed my mind, mostly fictionalized, and were brushed aside to try to focus on historical, practical fact not on whimsy such as the novel Suicide's Run.

------------------------

Seeing the man's robe led to thoughts pondering whether the Lady's garb was personal taste, as I'd assumed at first, or whether it (and by extension the man's) was an official uniform of her post or office. While the Lady spoke with him, I stayed quiet and looked curiously at the finely crafted woodwork of both desk and ceiling, lights permitting. Then read a little from the booklet I held.

Approaching when indicated to, I paid close attention to what the judge said. Doors to... what? Timelines. Was this like Vroom, an Earth that cracked the barriers between alternate worlds? But of the tribes listed, only three registered as something I recognized. The Goths and Vandals from ancient history, the Arabs from modern day political turmoil. Who were the Soth and the Vex? Perhaps I'd learn that later on... especially given what the Lady had said about versers, which disturbed me. Immortality was not a blessing.

Dimensional travel sounded interesting, but how and with what currency would one purchase a ticket? Or know where to try to go, for that matter? Seeking work here would establish a new home of sorts, since I had no idea how to seek my home and family across the multiverse short of relying on fantasy and fiction. Even by astral projection you needed a path, that I knew from past studies of the writing of mystics and my own feeble attempts to essay the 32nd path on the Tree of Life and the Tunnel of Set known as Thantifaxath. Entering Byzantia proper, trying to follow Hou's example, might be exciting, but the strong religious foundation here and my profane birthright would almost certainly come to blows. It wouldn't be right to keep THAT hidden if directly asked, would it? Could I even manage to serve in the Fort without THAT being a terrifying concern and risk to my life? I did not know, but it seemed to be the safer path than seeking to enter the foreign kingdom. Erm, foreign empire, given what the ruler's title was.

Still with a depressed, pensive expression to my face when I looked up again to see the face of the judge, "Your Excellency, Rianjen," I started, sure that I'd mangled that name somehow, "with your grace, might I ask what the requirements are to seek work as a servitor?" My hands were sweaty holding onto the booklet which the Lady had given unto me.

In reply to Carl (msg # 27):

"Ah, a planetary movement system.  I understand now.  We don't use these."

It does seem likely the clothing of both is official.

Looking up,  you do see similar clothing of certain people in the paintings.  Putting things together, the Lady might be police, and the man a judge.

Three fourths of the book is the Good Manners and Smooth Behavior bit.  Its not like typical legalese.  Its clear and elegant language.

"Demonstrate a useful skill, or the capacity to quickly learn one.  Pass a One Step challenge of your choice.  I have a right to choose for you, but in most such of these cases, we leave it to the asker, which is you, of course."

He grins.

"And your accent is not bad.  I've certainly heard worse, some much worse."  Some laughter from the others in the courtroom.

"Planetary movement system? That's... a description that would not have occurred to me, Your Ladyship." If anything, it sounded far more science fiction than fantasy, seeing as I knew that the term planet referred to wandering stars in older eras, something greatly differentiated from the Earth in astrology.

-------------------------------------

"Hmm." I thought about that a bit. "With no knowledge of your society and ways to even begin to guess what skills are needful and sought after, beyond the obvious menial labor and basic tasks, I fear that I may have to rely on learning quickly."

Recollection of how I'd gone from a new intern to running unfamiliar computer equipment solo in 2 weeks at my first job (of 3 two hour shifts a week) gave me a little hope in this direction, but still...

"Your Excellency Rianjan, if I might ask, what qualifies something as being a 'One Step Challenge'? The term is ambiguous to my foreign, possibly barbaric, ears."

In reply to Carl (msg # 29):

"We have need of..." He glances at a paper to his side.  "Tailors, those who can play the flute or harp or mandolin in a group of four or eight or sixteen, cook's assistants, stevedores, steam engine managers, those who can skin and those who can tan space beasts, translaters if you know a tongue we don't that we are in need of, copiers of books from memory for our libraries, sparring dummies for our constable corp to practise on, circus performers with big cats, ah, of course, janitorial is always looking for workers, and arena fighters."

He puts the paper down.

"A one step challenge is the easiest.  Others are two three and ten step challenges.  You may pick a skill you are especially good at, and if we agree demonstrate.  Or you may pick a skill from the list I just gave you and we will agree. Deal effectively and efficiently with a challenge and you pass.  You have to get an acceptable choice within three asks or its a fail."

I paid attention, but my autistic brain did not want to comply, and snatches of daydream pulled my attention awry. Tailoring I had very little experience with. None of three instruments named were ones I had ever played in my life. Cook's assistant? That seemed like a possibility. Stevedore? For the life of me I could not place what that was, though I knew that I'd read the word before. Managers, skinners, tanners, those were not part of my life. What little I knew of tanning came from reading, and by all accounts it was hot, reeking work. Translation? Good grief, no. I had no illusions (or delusions) that my limited linguistic skills in a handful of tongues were anything close to translator quality.

And the trains of thought suddenly derailed with a mental blue screen of death. Speech. Tongues. How was it that Hou had first spoken in words that I understood, if these folks used translators? How was it that I could clearly understand Her Ladyship and His Excellency, speaking modern English which was itself a historical hodgepodge of other languages crashing on English like ships wrecked on a reef? Even if they were in what Olaf had said, 17 centuries after Christ, many words had changed in the time between that era and my own.

Bright the Sun Burning,
Night Will Come Turning,
Warm Fire Is Sparkening,
Sleep Brings a Darkening,
Bitter Tears Falling,
Lovers Come Calling,
Egg in the Hollow,
Hatching to Follow,
Mothwings Go Spinning,
End and Beginning,
Inward Is Quiet,
Dream Chains to Tie It,
Silence and Shadow,
Music and Meadow,
Eye of the Star,
Where Old Gods Are.

Shades of He Who Bleeds the Unknown Word! I stood for long seconds in shock before, in a weak voice, I asked. "Your Excellency Rianjan? What... what tongue are we speaking in?"

He smiles gently.

"There is another reason we might be kind to you.  During the Breaking of the World, the First Emperor who took the throne, fought back chaos, dove into fire and madness and came back with survivors, and saved our City was a man named Michael Di Vars.

He spoke English.  He was also a virtuous pagan.  We could not in right take his religion of worship of Thor, but we did take his language in recocgnition of the great deeds and in the end sacrifices he made for us.

He was a verser.  The First Emperor of the Refounding."

He points to a picture in the ceiling amongst the many pictures.  Its at the center.  Looking closer you see a man with a sword and a large mechanical hand.

I listened, only half-comprehending the implications through the raging storm sweeping through my mind. A broken world... a legendary Emperor... a stranger from beyond time, who spoke modern English... a Thorite? The whole 'verser' business was still a vast mystery to me, the bits I'd been told so far seeming like something out of far-fetched fiction. But so was what I was now faced with, looking up at a man whose image reminded me a bit of a large-handed character in He-Man and the masters of the Universe.

Had the world truly gone so crazy, or was I the one whose grasp on reality had been blown to smithereens? Or... was I still semi-sane, and reality had lost its' grip on me, a la falling into Wonderland?

Which is stronger, Mabo Tofu or Peking Duck?

Not a thought that made much sense, normally, but it seemed like nothing since that splash from a passing car made conventional sense. And nothing about this place suggested that I was in The Chessboards. Chessboard One should have resembled the mundane world writ strange, while Two was the beginnings of the wasteland. Three was shifting chaos... Four? Possibly Chessboard Four, but it still didn't seem right. This definitely wasn't Five or Six, and Chessboard Seven was beyond merely out of the question.

Come on, Carl. Hold yourself together. Don't have an episode in front of the judge.

But that was far, far easier to think than to control. Was I already deep in the middle of one? It had certainly happened before without me noticing in the slightest.

"The breaking of... the world?" My voice was weak, stunned, reeling. If my neurophysiology had been more like a typical human, one might have expected pallor in my face from the depth of the psychological shock I was striving to cope with inside. If the mortal world was... broken... like the Qlippothic world... what had happened? Was Tikkun Olam even still possible? A flash image, a memory of Mentl explaining what Tikkun Olam meant to Zona, his beloved, in a webcomic. When faced with a choice, make the choice that heals the world.

A memory of music started to play in the back of my thoughts, a fragment of a Youtube video that I was fond of.
Oy, chto-to my zasidelisʹ, brattsy ,
Ne pora li nam razgulyatʹsya?
Rusʹ molodaya , sily nemereno ,
Dayte konya mne da dobryy mech!

Ratʹyu poydyom da pogonim voroga,
Rusʹ molodaya, serdtsu dorogo,
Da ne pristalo nam sidetʹ po khatam
Dayte konya mne da dobryy mech!

Bylo eto brattsy davnym-davno
Chyornyye sily prishli voynoy.
A my ne znali, ne ozhidali
Zhili, lyubili, detey rozhali

Ikh sorok tysyach sorokov,
Rusʹ ne vidala takikh vragov.
A my ne znali, ne ozhidali
Zhili, lyubili, detey rozhali

I polykhnuli terema da khaty,
Baby vplachʹ da malyye rebyata,
A muzhiki vse, brat za brata,
Vyshli za Rodinu voyevatʹ


OOC: The video itself is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VCY2cAQ-A9I

"In brief, the Dragon of the End came to our world, and shattered it into many pieces.  Byzantium held much faith in the Almighty so we were spared the worst of it, but still we were doomed.  Just to a slower death than some of the other lands of the World That Was.  But then Di Vars came, and fought the Dragon with sword and mace.  They duelled many times over the years as we put our society back together and tied ropes from rocks to rocks, and beat back the fires and learned how to kill the spacebeasts, and learned new powers of Faith and Mind.  In the end, Di Vars slew the Dragon, but he died in the battle.  That was 1462 years ago."