Confessions of a Madman

Chapter Five: Crooked Blades

October 10th, in the year of our Empire, 1012

The sewer system that stretches underneath the city spans kilometers and kilometers across the entirety of the island’s underground, and boasts centuries of remodeling and innovation, from simple aqueduct systems that run downhill, to an intricate electrically-powered filtering and purification system for the richer families.

This, coupled with the way the city is built and operates, represents how the new has been growing atop the old for as long as anyone could remember. Methods considered archaic work in harmony with the latest technologies from the Order.

Nonetheless, for all its wonderments, one thing that will never change in this place is the way it keeps its secrets. Like the inhabitants of the city, every single corner and alley has a secret path, door or cellar, and oftentimes, these connect to underground tunnels between houses and city-wide systems – such as the sewer. Plans for these tunnels are rarely drafted, and most of what might have one day been chronicled about their construction would have most likely vanished, lost in time, burned in fires, or dissolved and destroyed by the elements.

A few pathways were familiar to those whose duty it was to uphold order – although we all know that there were far more tunnels than even our most ancient architectural drafts and blueprints would let us know. There has always been a longstanding commission in regards to such plans, yet barely anyone has come forward with useful information.

I sat in the carriage pondering this this morning, wondering how much information really circulated about the underground. It was this great big mystery, an unknowable, undocumented mess, yet a hunch had me believe that perhaps there were those that knew more about it than we would give anyone credit for.

Perhaps we alone as lawmen stand clueless in the face of the truth, while the outlaws and traitors plot beneath our feet in the stone hulls of endlessly stretch spider webs, stringing together plots and plotting conspiracies.

Perhaps all we had to do was turn the island over like a rock, and these stabbings might end. I received word of another two this night, both of the same nature. A wood sample was recovered from one wound, and it seems that the weapon’s hilt is made of ebony. Together with birch, oak and mahogany, ebony is one of the most popular woodtypes to carve with, and question each and every woodcarver about their orders of ebony in a massive city such as this would be an undertaking for which we simply do not possess the manpower.

A mere three thousand is the count for this year’s number of men on active duty. Three thousand men, patrolling a city of millions, with crimes such as murder and theft happening on a nigh on daily basis. Madness. Madness – yet reality. Commissioning for more men was an act doomed to failure, as barely any amount of politics went into reducing crime.

The investigational headquarters of Cronwell - the Watch - were part of the island’s authoritative district, on the upper half of the hill. I looked out from behind the curtains of the carriage as the housing made a sharp turn and began slopping upwards, and saw the towers of the authoritative district. The seat of government on Cronwell – a district made of ivory towers, all built in the ancient Imperial fashion, before the Great Expansion. A church stood some distance between us and the looming towers, and its bells were ringing for a wedding. The buildings along this road were all finer in quality – jewelers, special weaponsmiths and goldsmiths, poets, writers, printers and bookstores of most. Tea and coffee shops bespeckled the street here and there. We came upon a town square, and saw the reception of a wedding – a rather large one, presumably a wealthy couple – white doves flew in what was for once a fairly sunny sky, and a painted carriage stood prepared and waiting. People in formal fashion stood in rows, wearing cravats and white gloves, awaiting akin to the carriage for the groom and his bride.