A Rather Special Interview
Let us start from the humble beginnings. Canon – what let you to the Neath?
The finer details of my past are a mystery, even to me, but when I take off my irrigo robes off and take the time to dream of sunlight, I can only picture a self-imposed exile born of shame. When you are young, you believe that there are endless possibilities and that all one needed was the willingness to speak their mind and the courage to face the limitless unknown.
Soon, you would find many who share the same beliefs and attitudes, and together would find strength in each other to create a better tomorrow, a tomorrow where the light of reason and freedom never sets. However, as the years went on, you realize that the hierarchy of power never changes, only that the people who compose it do, and that what was once light only lies in darkness.
While there are some on the surface who still see me as a hero, my past actions only bring me grief for all those sacrificed for the empty lie called “liberty” that still haunts the commoners of the Neath to this very day.
Furthermore, what kept you in the Neath?
Originally, to forget, to constantly chase after frivolous pleasures so that one never has to reminiscence about the past. However, as time here is particularly treacherous in the Neath, the past will always catch up to you, so to speak. The same can be said for the Bazaar and the Masters who seek to postpone a reckoning, but I instead have chosen to accept and learn from my mistakes so as to never repeat them again. And unlike before, I plan to win on my terms.
Who do you favour most in ruling the Neath?
No one deserves to rule the Neath, as the Neath has existed far longer than any being here and shall outlast all of us until the day of our respective judgments. Do not take this as support for the Liberation crowd, however, as our current state of tyranny is still leagues better than the madness the Calendar Council wishes to enact upon the universe.
That being said, I favor those who deal in honesty rather than in falsehoods, absolutes, or unkept promises. The Fingerkings can only offer imaginary trinkets, but always demand everything that one possesses (which includes your bodily autonomy); the Masters and the Bazaar promise the world but can never fulfill those bargains well; and the Liberation as a movement do not create, but only destroy.
On the other hand, the determination of Seekers is admirable (if ultimately misguided), the sorrow spiders desire eyes and knowledge (but nothing further), and the Masters are honest about their intentions of running London like a business, whether for good or ill. Every group wants what’s best, but what constitutes as “best” and “for who” can differ even among those with the same loyalties. I suggest you choose carefully.
As a Midnighter, you are a rather important part of the Great Game. What do you think of the game itself?
The Great Game is Life itself, and just like how Life continues after one’s death, so too does the Game. The Game is eternal and encompasses all – the only differences between players are the roles they play and the moves they make. The loyalties they possess and the methods they practice matters little when alliances shift and information is at stake – what was once a bitter foe could be an irreplaceable partner the next day, while machinations planned for years could be overturned by one single betrayal.
Do you engage in more than just the role of rituals?
Those addressed as “Canon” take great care to follow the rituals outlined by St. Joshua by taking confessions, but I am more of an outlier in that I redistribute secrets rather than erase them. Many players of the Game have yet to understand the importance of their roles in the Bazaar’s schemes, and I simply wish to…enlighten them. While some of my colleagues may view this practice as heretical blasphemy, I merely see it as a way to keep the Game moving right on schedule, since games are meant to be played by people, not living tools without greater understanding.
How many have fell under your intrigues?
I do not care to keep count of those I’ve bested or entangled with even if I could remember through the irrigo, as I only look towards the future. All I am willing to say is that the city of London – and perhaps the entirety of the Neath – is my chessboard and all its inhabitants my pieces.
You are one of a few, a Paramount Presence. How does it feel, to sit atop the world?
First, your assumption that I am worthy of praise is incorrect, as I have only gotten as far as I have by following in the footsteps of true legends such as Mr. ____________, master of stories; Ms. _________, who sold her firkin of Hespiridean Cider to own the first Heptagoat in existence; ________, the first to have ventured NORTH.
Second, the world is but a small blip on the vast frontier known as the Far Wilderness, and it is only by conquering the four corners of the universe that one can claim to truly be at the center of things.
What do you see for your own future?
All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
B̨̻̰̤̬͎̘̹͈͘u̢҉̢̢̛̫̰̗̘̲̘͍̭̞̪̺̣̲͕̮͈͍t̸̛̲̰̝̘͇͈̼̼̹̻̬̕͡ ́͏̧̘̪̙̪̬̰̻͍̕͠ͅf̵̶̟̮͔̙͔̼̭̯͈͎͓̦̰o̷̢̪̳͔̣r̷̢͈̥̝̹̼̖͕̻̤̫̘̙̹̦͡ ͞͠͏͠͏̦̠̫̣͙̙̠̩̖̱̟̤̫͖͈͖͚w̷̡͙̜̫͕̬̘̮̘͖͓̳͇̱̹͕̜͞ḩ̵͙̭͔͓̗̬̩̬͔́̕͜o̴̲̺͕͉͚̹͢͢͝ ̶̹̥͙͔̗̩͈̞̦̕͝a͏̡̛̦̭͈̦̩̤̟̻̭̜̗̫̲ͅn̛͡͠҉̰̮͕͓d͝҉̛̣̦̰̞̠̰̞̗͔͙̭ ̸̫͍̮͚͕̰̯̕f̷͏̗͓̪̖͚̭͕̭͍̖̱͓͙̮͍̻̬̲́o̭̤̺̭̙͉̫͍͍͓̫̰̝̝͚̟̣͎͞ͅr̸̼͖̦̥̯̗͖͠ ̨͉̱̩̱̫͎͎̪̀͜w̰̥̪͖̰̲͚̳͍̙̺̙̫̦͘͝h̶͍̥͇̖̪̯̬͎̪̦̯̫̱͕͘͜͝a̵̡̛҉͚͕̜͔̺̱̮͇͉̫͉̰̱̘͎̰͍̦ͅt̶̵̡͕̭̤̭̟̫͍̱͉̠̤̣͇̪̞̬͜ ̘̻̯̲̘̘̯̦̖̘̥̺͖̖̠͞i̶̷̛̱̪͈̮͍̰̼̜̜͟͠ͅs̸̲̝̭̮̦̰̪̲̮̜͍͙̻̳̘̳̻͜͝ͅ ̺͉̙̙̪̠̯̼̲͚̹̦̻͢͜t̺͕̙̯̫̠̙̗̥̖̙̰͍͔̼̦͜͜h҉̟̼͚̼̘̪̝̝̣͇̯̝̜̞̟̹͝e̩͕̟͚̞̼̦͖̰̫͎͟͞ ̢̧̛͢͏̫͈͕̝͖̪̮̪̱͍̞̳̤͔͈̩t̡̛͙͎̺̬͙͈̻͙ͅŗ̸͓̞̭̪͓̮̣̝̭͙̖͘͡ų͏̰̜̟̖̦͎̥̩̟́e͞҉͓̥̟̰̝̘͈͔̼̬̫̜͝ ̛̯̰̙̙̫͚̝͓̠͚́͞͝q̴̧̨̟̺̯͖͎̤̳͕̲̜͡ͅu̸̢̦̠̪̘̺̹̬̩͔̮̙̥͞ͅe̡͉̙͈̙̫̜̻̦̗͘̕̕s̸̰̳̝̳̝͕͍͜͝t̴̶̡̧̖̺͈̫̬̼̯̟͔i̴̶͔̰̫̖̩̼̫͓͈̖͉͉̹͕̺o҉̸̢̻̟̙͖̥͜͟n̢͈̳̣̹̺͎̜͓̱̮̪͔̮͡ͅ.̴̶͕̦̦̬̙̹̘̠̭͙͢͜
A skilled player of the game yourself, you are used to use. How many of your acquaintances have you used for your own purposes?
How many souls do you think are traded daily in the Neath?
Have you ever fallen in love?
We should not talk of such matters here lest you draw the attention of certain meddlesome batty individuals and their crabby employer. Come, I know of a place deep inside the Forgotten Quarter that even they cannot venture…
To answer your question, yes, I am faithfully in love to my wife, for we are both share a mutual understanding to aid each other as equals in intellect, goals, and ability. Many in this city – and perhaps the universe as well – make the mistake of loving something that cannot be attainable, a love that cannot be reciprocated, and never have I ever witnessed it end well for either party.
On the other hand, love is a choice that we all must make in the end lest we lose it like the Rubberies, and I hope that I’ve made the right choice. It is fitting for a priest entrenched in secrets to form an everlasting union with an intriguing woman of faith, is it not? Should she betray me, then that is simply the results of my turn, and the Game continues on, but I love her all the same, keeps me in shape she does. Love is a part of the Game, and all games at some level must be challenging; therefore, there should be nothing more challenging yet adorable as my wife.
Does that answer your question?
Have you ever confessed to another midnighter?
I’d sooner grab the complete set of preserved internal organs on my mantelpiece (of which were ripped from my body personally by Mr Eaten) and hurl them from the highest rooftops of the Flit than ever consider visiting another Canon for confession.
The last time someone suggested I do that, I ripped off their mask and threatened to expose their folly for all of the Neath to see. If you forget your mistakes, you cannot learn; if you cannot learn, you cannot adapt; if you cannot adapt, then it is only a matter of time until you fall.
Midnighters are needed in the Great Game to help guilty agents absolve their sins with irrigo, but like what Mr Fires once told me, a truly strong person must own up to their mistakes and rise above them.
What have you found at the gate?
If you are expecting a cryptic or overly-convoluted tale of self-reflection, madness, and new horizons, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have only ventured to the Gate two times, and each time I have met with the same bleak scenery: the starry surface of the waters around the angels of Gant, the massive wreckage of ships, yachts, and zubs that have passed through, and the dark eyes of the exiled who still wait for the Empress’s pardon.
On my first visit, a shipmate of mine known as the Jaunty Cannoneer decided to stay at the Avid Horizon to await judgment for a crime she cannot undo, just like myself. Though I wanted to, I could not stay if it meant condemning the rest of my crew to the frost, as we had camped on an unforgiving lifeberg for a week and rations were non-existent, but I swore that I would come back. And I did, with another traveller returning, a folded knock times 7, and the knowledge that this is the beginning of something better.
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