Mirrored from Sythyry.
The most important and powerful person in Kismirth is Phaniet, as mayor. The most resplendently-titled, and often resplendently-dressed, person in Kismirth is Prince Rastomil. He is not a prince of Kismirth, for we have not yet managed to produce royalty of our own. Or we have managed not to produce royalty of our own; I’m not sure which. He is a prince of Barency, which you can see over there, by the main trunk on Dentheia, if you use a telescope. This is why we have a few telescopes mounted on the railings of the Purple Promenade.
We have a number of useful things on the Purple Promenade, the big balcony or avenue or boardwalk which goes all around Kismirth’s equator. Arguably the most useful of these is Prince Rastomil himself. He is not actually mounted on the railings, (and, as far as I know, never has been, (which is more than I can say for some people)). When he has nothing better to do — which is often — he strolls resplendently along the promenade. This is, in fact, his formal job, and he is better paid by Kismirth for doing it than I am for doing my own job.
As he strolls, as he showers the glory of his lime-colored waistcoat and copper coronet upon all who pass, he stops and converses with anyone who wishes. Not every city is blessed with such royalty — royalty who can be found strolling casually upon the main boulevards! With nothing better to do than stop and chat with tourists!
Orren Tourist: “Ho there, royal fellow!”
Prince Rastomil: “And a good day to yourself as well, O honored Orren visitor! Be welcomed in Kismirth!”
Orren Tourist: “Oy, are you a real prince, like your crown says?”
Prince Rastomil: “I am indeed! I am prince of Barency, a city which you can just barely see over there. A telescope might help.”
Orren Tourist: “A real royal prince!”
Prince Rastomil: “And what has brought you to this spot of civilization in the empty air? Aside, of course, from the skyboat of the noble and honorable Windigar.”
Orren Tourist: “Ough, I’m here from Vheshrame on vacation. Free tickets on my wife’s cousin’s husband’s friend once removed’s skyboat, wouldn’t you know?”
Prince Rastomil: “Windigar’s skyboat, I presume? He is your wife’s cousin’s husband’s friend once removed, you say? A splendid chap, and a splendid pilot. Still — do you hire a Cani as a cartographer of your friends, so that you can tell so precisely how you have come to know them?”
Orren Tourist: “Windigar’s boat, that’s the one! I don’t have a Cani, I’m not sure, he might be my husband’s brother’s uncle’s lover or something.”
Prince Rastomil has a certain special ability. I, personally, lack this power completely. I would substitute my deep, incisive, and frequently-wrong social insight, thus:
Hypothetical Sythyry: “Ah! You have no idea of the relationship, other than you’re Orren from the same city. But you are taking the opportunity to mention that you have an Orren wife and an Orren husband, thereby dispelling any suspicions that you might be traff, despite your willingness to visit a city of such dubious reputation as Kismirth.”
But Rastomil’s powers are supreme! He is aware of this particular conversational pass — he hears it a few times a day — but, somehow, by the grandness of his mightiness, he manages to avoid sarcasm. He might reply more thus:
Prince Rastomil: “He surely could be the friend of both your husband’s and your wife’s sides! Did they come too, or are you the advanced scout from your Orren household, investigating this new pond to paddle in?” Notice how beautifully he lets the tourist preserve the illusion of being wholly cisaffectionate.
Orren Tourist: “My wife’s here. She’s off gambling. Wanted to try out the Cartesian Casino, she said. I have the worst luck at cards myself, so I’m here doing some shopping and looking out at the vistas and views and scenery!”
Hypothetical Sythyry: “Of course a person doing some shopping and scenery-watching would have failed to notice the telescopes! And of course your proximity to a street of rentable Herethroy is fully coincidental!”
Prince Rastomil: “A wonderful pastime! I myself have been doing it for months, and have not tired of it. Have you been to the top spires yet? The views from them are spectacular, simply spectacular.”
Kismirth, according to Feralan, is shaped like three half-spheres in a line, with three cones point-up on top of them. Arfaen, of course, describes it as a three-scoop ice cream sundae with three cones inverted on top.
Orren Tourist: “No! I haven’t been up there yet!”
Hypothetical Sythyry: “Yet, somehow, you have explored the alleys and avenues here in considerable detail, and, perhaps, the professionals who work there in even more detail.”
Prince Rastomil: “The creator gods, sitting in the sky, have a better view. I doubt that any mortals do!”
Orren Tourist: “Is it a long climb? It looks high!”
Hypothetical Sythyry: Mopily wishes zie could think of a pungent and prickly sarcastic reply, but can’t.
Prince Rastomil: “It is a mile or more vertically from here. But it is not a long climb at all! Have you noticed the many vertical tubes, such as the one there, marked with that glyph? Which gleam with Ruloc and Sustenoc and every Noun?”
Orren Tourist: “I missed them, one and all, no matter how ubiquituous they are!”
Hypothetical Sythyry: Fortunately, the words I put into your mouth obviate any need for sarcasm.
Prince Rastomil: “They are called ‘levities’, and they levitate you from one level to another. Simply tap the glyph with a foot, or make a gesture that the governing spirit thinks to be that, and — whoosh! — up or down you go!”
Hypothetical Sythyry: “Though not in the sense of ‘Whoosh! Up and down you go!’ that you have been indulging in so much recently!”
Orren Tourist: “Oooh, sparkly! I shall fly-itate!”
Prince Rastomil: [looking at the tail of the scurrying-off Orren Tourist] “Enjoy the view, O Orren!”