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| A Coggy Conversation | |
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| Category | Story Event |
| Type | Story |
| Data ID | 280537 |
A Coggy Conversation is a Sunless Skies Story Event.
Story description[ | ]
The Fastidious Inspector has a round face, brown eyes and short, dark hair. She gives the impression of being perpetually busy.
Trigger conditions[ | ]
The Fastidious Inspector ≥ 10 ≤ 15,
In Combat ≤ 0,
Frequency: Always (100%)
0.8852388
Interactions[ | ]
| Actions | Requirements | Effects | Notes | |||||
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| Begin with pleasantries
Your locomotive is being buffeted by a boisterous stellar wind. Perhaps you could talk about the weather?
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An initial exchange
"I suppose it is rather gusty," she says. "My work requires extensive travel; I've grown accustomed to the High Wilderness' little tantrums. And your engine weathers them well. Some of the vessels I've been on couldn't even keep the wind on the outside."
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| Enquire about her work
What are the duties of an agent of the Horological Office?
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A higher calling
She sniffs. "It is of fundamental importance that ten o'clock on the second of June in one corner of the empire occurs at the same time as ten o'clock on the second of June in the opposite corner. How is an Empire to function if it can't agree what day it is?
"Unfortunately, the process is complicated by the fact that time is less reliable than it was. The hours-trade has seen to that."
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| Discuss the Reach
The wide, wild frontier. A sunless domain, but impossibly verdant – with gargantuan vines, cathedral-sized bronzewoods, and livid fungal archipelagos.
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Far from home
"It has an uncouth splendour. But I miss Albion, and the steady light of the Clockwork Sun. These sunless reaches are so misty and quiet." She pauses. "But critical. The territories here are rich with raw hours, and enough vegetation grows on them to feed the whole of London. Even if some of it is a dubious shape."
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| Ask about the Winchester War
The Reach is torn by discontent between London loyalists and the more independent settlers.
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"An unfortunate business."
"There are those who feel that London is a long way away, and that they'd do a better job of governing themselves. The frontier attracts independent spirits. We call them 'Tacketies', for the hobnail boots that are so practical out here."
"London, unsurprisingly, disagrees. The Windward Company earnestly represents Her Majesty's interests in the region. Sometimes very earnestly indeed. The Tacketies call London's loyalists 'Stovepipes'. For our hats, I suppose." She avoids looking at you. "And you, captain? Where do your sympathies lie?" |
With London
You remember your heritage, and the Queen who led you to the skies.
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"Glad to hear it," she says.
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| With the Tacketies
These are new lands. Why should old rules – or old masters – hold sway?
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"We are never free of the past," she says, her hand touching her pocketwatch. "Never."
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| You feel no loyalty to either side
Perhaps you'd rather be left alone. Perhaps you are undecided. Perhaps you see the conflict as an opportunity.
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"What a remarkable indulgence," she remarks, with a raised eyebrow.
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| Ask for news of London
The seat of the Empire lies in far-off Albion, where a man-made sun burns in the sky. Another sun blazed there once, before Her Renewed Majesty conquered it.
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Homesickness
"London sits in her coat of smog. Courtiers squabble at the foot of the Throne of Hours, hoping to receive endowments of years. Meanwhile, hard-working civil servants labour to ensure everything runs as it should." Was there a touch of archness, there? "All as normal. I miss her, though: there is no city like London in all the Skies. And Albion is very different from the Reach. Much more civilised."
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| Ask about the hours trade
You've heard the Empress awards her favourites with gifts of years to extend their lives. And that you can become rich, mining for hours to satisfy London's hunger for them.
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The tangles of time
"Oh, hours have more uses than that. We use them to increase the efficiency of workworlds, to speed journeys to distant regions, to resolve overcrowding in prisons. It does make my life more difficult, when time knots and stretches like wool on the loom. More difficult, but more vital.
"Her Majesty seized a great trove of them when she assumed the Throne of Hours. And now even more have been found in the Reach. Miners dig them from the ground!" She looks momentarily wistful. "I hope, some day, to retire with a modest pension of years, myself. To prolong the better part of my retirement."
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| Discuss suns
What happened to the Reach's sun? And London has a man-made sun: how did Her Majesty defeat the old one?
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Sunless Skies
"We warred and we won. It's not my area of expertise, I'm afraid. The suns made the law, they say. Now Her Majesty makes it.
"As for the Reach's sun?" she looks through the window, at the lightless, stirring mists. "I don't know. Do suns grow old? Do they die of natural causes? I think that would probably be better than the alternative, wouldn't it?"
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| Compliment her skills
Her hands are deft and sure. She polishes, she cleans, she reassembles.
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A compliment
"Thank you," she says. A small, embarrassed silence.
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| Bid her a good evening
You've work to do.
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Parting
"And to you captain. I think I shall make a cup of tea."
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