Editorial
Truth is effervescence. Reality bubbles with possibility. Motes of possibility commingle and pass each other, merge at the most inopportune of moments. There is as much sense in asking what is true as there is in asking a tiger to be a servant to a rat.
The simplest variation in the alterations of threads can have massive consequences on the threads of reality. A character, an ambition, the clacking of coins reflecting from a brass cup in just the right way of different. So much that butterfly wings can change.
Wonder not then what may the one sole truth be. Take words with a grain of salt and read between the lines. Know that, in the end, we may never know what reality has in plan for us. Enjoy the ride, while it lasts.
Make your own stories, London.
Art of London
Two of Mads
by Jane Ankh Veos
SCRAPS OF RECENT NEWS
Mr Cards – A Brand New Master?
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Without much fanfare or announcement, there now is a new Master of the Bazaar. Presenting itself as one Mr Cards, this elegant figure is still an enigma among the ranks of the Masters.
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Once a month, Mr Cards can be seen entering and exiting the Bazaar. Its appearances among the general public are sporadic, and never without the accompaniment of another Master.
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It seems to prefer parlours, gambling dens and shops, and other such establishments. Could this Master’s trade, as the name suggests, be in the upkeep of London’s ever-growing populace of gamblers?
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The identity of Mr Cards is uncertain – is it a brand new compatriot of the Masters, or a cover to avoid association with the vile vice of gambling?
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The Lease To London – Rumours Of New Ownership?
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Surely nothing but hearsay, the Masters are said to have given the document declaring ownership of London herself to an unknown individual.
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What implications may such facts have, if they are truly facts? Is London, perhaps, safe from another city falling on its head as it has done forty years ago?
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The Empress, or any of the Masters, could not be reached for further comments.
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Whatever the future may hold for us, we can only hope that our new owner is benevolent. Perhaps, indeed, we will see reform to the lighting, roads, or even cheap tobacco.
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Whispers From The Surface – Under The Northern Lights
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Explorers to beyond the polar circles report sightings of an enormous mansion. This white castle glistens among statues, topiaries, and hedges, all made of snow. Upon closer inspection, the manor is locked and secure.
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It is, by most, seen as a simple mirage or delusion caused by lack of one vitamin or another.
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Now dubbed “The Court of Winter’s King”, it is a symbol of luck – uncertain whether good or bad – and explorers are advised to stay clear of the perhaps cursed land. Hell knows not many venture so far into the arctics, anyway.
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A New Royal Star – Surprise Heir To The Empress?
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A surprising development, as one _______ _______ has been named the new Regent of London. Surprising, we say, though it was inevitable for one unknown blood relative or another to show up, eventually.
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We, of course, wish the Regent best of luck.
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One rumour has it that the Empress herself has been considering the Regent as an heir to the throne. How such indiscretion will pass by and through her own children is a matter we shall not touch for the respect of our reader’s wellbeing and good taste.
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As a new matter of fashion, the Regent’s tendency to wear their ratskin drawers (fur still attached) atop their trousers has been catching on upon the higher echelons. In today’s society, it seems, it is simply unacceptable to be caught dead without one’s pants displayed!
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A Distress In The Bazaar – An End To A Game?
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One Mr Pages could be seen playing against a monkey seemingly known for its aptitude with cards. Eye witnesses report the match was at most fifteen minutes long, ending with the Master turning the table over and storming out. The monkey, the questioned zailors said, was rather smug about it with its supposed owner.
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The monkey and its owner were seen entering the Bazaar in late hours of the morning.
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Mr Apples lately appeared irritated, ignoring his compatriots in the public. These strange tensions, while less pervasive among the other Masters, are rather tangible even on sight.
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Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
Oh woe is me, born under the unlucky star, never meant to reach fortune.
Searching
Dear Searching,
I am afraid whining will do no one any good.
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