Rumours of the Art-City

The art-city — 〈Vergilia〉.

On the eastern continent's northern outer rim, past the Three Kingdoms east of Mūzeg (which was rapidly closing on continental hegemony), and east again, much further east — there sat the city.

At first, only a trade-city with a well-developed sea-merchant route on its sea-facing side — a perfectly common type. With time, however, that characteristic threw off a derivative; now, gathering art from every region of every continent, it had taken a slightly unusual shape.

The city's air, in a single word: gleaming.

Colour-rich, light-flooded, and with the citizens' adornment-heavy dress all combining — the city that does not sleep read into it as well.

"— Heard the talk about the 〈Bewitching Queen〉?"

In one corner of such a city, under the orange jewel-light of a streetlamp, two men in tall silk hats were on their feet talking.

The hour at which, from the many opera-houses built not only above but underground as well, beautiful song was, this evening too, beginning to come up.

"〈Bewitching Queen〉?"

"Yes — Bewitching Queen."

One of the two men — the one who had opened the topic — twirled his cane in his hand with a light flourish as he kept the line going.

The slightly restless way he spoke read less gentleman and more young man aspiring to be one — proof, in itself, that he was still young, and over-sensitive to whatever was fashionable.

"No, hadn't."

The one taking up the topic, dressed clean himself, raised a well-shaped eyebrow into a question.

Calmer than the topic-opener, certainly — but next to the bearded gentlemen who walked the city's streets, his youth still showed.

"There you go — behind the times, as I thought. For one such as yourself, I shall give you the latest, in proper detail."

The topic-opener tipped his nose up in self-satisfaction, then clapped the slightly sulky companion on the shoulder a few times in soothing fashion, and went on.

"— A new actress, apparently, has shown up at that old-fashioned opera house at the eastern edge of the opera quarter, lately. And — that actress, it's said, is outrageously a beauty."

"Said, said. …Fine. — Even so, eastern edge and old-fashioned — that means —"

"Reve Opera."

"That's the one — Reve. — Mind, beauties one can find any number of around here. Hardly worth a fuss. Where do you think we are. This is the art-city Vergilia."

The receiver answered with a slightly disappointed Is that all.

"No no no — even I know that much. And even so, I'm telling you it. Which means — the casual beauty a step away on the street is, against this one, not on the same map. Read between the lines."

"Hmm… and — singing?"

"Top class, of course."

"Well — Reve Opera, as a house, weighs song quality unusually high for the present day. That's also why it reads as old-fashioned. — Still, hired on after that patriarch's approval, no place to doubt the song side."

The receiver, evidently keen to project that he was well-versed in the art-city's opera scene, slipped that piece of information in.

"Just so. — And, yesterday her debut performance happened. The room was packed past the doors. Sadly I didn't get a viewing myself, but I happened to walk by close enough that I could feel the height of expectation on my skin."

"Which means — somebody else, not you — somebody who actually saw that actress — has stuck a flashy by-name like 〈Bewitching Queen〉 on her."

"In one day. — The way this is going, she'll be a star very soon. If you don't take a viewing soon, you won't be getting a ticket."

"Hmm — your prediction-talk hits maybe half the time, though."

Saying that — he was already, in his head, calculating the silver coins he'd need for the next performance.

He was running the contents of his wallet through his head, accounting for food and other art-spending, and somehow producing roughly enough for a ticket.

"For reference — when's the next performance?"

"In a week, was the word."

"A week. So if there are people like you, who saw the 〈Bewitching Queen〉's debut yesterday and are now, on the rapture of it, telling everyone in earshot —"

"Isn't everyone in the art-city this kind of person?"

"— True. So in a week the rumour'll have spread fairly far."

"On top of that, winter approaching — the indoor-entertainment-loving social set comes streaming into the art-city, competition tightens further. From flush local nobles to ship-arriving rich men from other continents, this season really does pull a lot of people."

Vergilia was, by virtue of its nature, also an amusement-city.

The city itself ran far from war by temperament, and lately even its trade goods leaned toward war-useless art and craft pieces — so it had not been especially prized.

Of course, value could be found in any commodity, and in that strict sense one could press anything into a war, but Mūzeg, closing on eastern-continental hegemony, had not, as yet, reached for Vergilia.

That it sat past the Three Kingdoms, and that, despite the limited supply of useful materiel, plenty of other-continent power-brokers gathered for the entertainment — together had cooled Mūzeg's active interest.

Vergilia was, for a war-mode taking, slightly inconvenient.

In the sense that power-brokers gathered, it was useful for other-continent connections — but they were here for amusement, and bringing crude things in could feed the wrong kind of stimulus.

"Especially with the recent — Mūzeg, the Three Kingdoms, and Lemuse — five-country business in the central east. There's talk going around that the surrounding-country nobles and power-brokers, who'd had Mūzeg's hand on their head, are picking up their heads again. Not all, but enough — they'll come out and make for Vergilia. — Mind, high spirits are good. Without high spirits, money does not flow into amusement. Repression and constraint are the enemies of amusement."

"You try to hide it under tasteful phrasing, but everything you say smells of money. …Mind, I won't argue with the underlying point."

"Anyway — what it amounts to is that this year, Vergilia might be unusually busy."

"I wonder whether Mūzeg itself might not slip in here too."

"Probably has long since slipped in, no? — Long-since. The Mūzeg-style approach, taking Vergilia outright, would be extraordinarily troublesome — but quietly building connections in the Vergilia-style approach? This slightly unusual trade-city would, on the contrary, be the perfect place. If Mūzeg is angling its hand at other continents, then — out of sight, certainly — they're already doing something. Mind, none of that has anything to do with us."

"Refreshingly devoted to art, you."

"Better, surely, than the lot who go around cutting down people who carry the seeds of any art they please."

"Doubt it."

The two laughed at each other, then straightened their collars again.

"Well — given all that. By next week, manage the money side."

"Yeah, yeah — money I'll handle."

"In this city, your purse-strings get loose unreasonably fast."

"Tell me about it."

After a round of light banter, the two, with theatrical cane-flourishes, exchanged parting greetings.

The orange streetlamp lit the backs of the two young men, throwing a brighter colour onto their slightly worn black tuxedos.