It's been about 2 ½ days since my last update.
Busy! Busy! Busy!
After numerous stops, the ferry finally stopped at Musica. I was the last passenger to be deposited on the shores of Shireroth proper. It was around noonish.
Unusual... I don't think I've ever been on a ferry that made multiple stops before. Reminded me of the odd wizard's bus in Harry Potter. The ferries from the indeterminate ises seem to take one wherever one needs to be.
But, like a taxi in New York city, try finding one in a rainstorm when you're on the mainland!
The geography of Musica somewhat baffles me and other than making nonsensical observations such as its lower elevations are by the sea and its higher one's inland, the various rivers and irregularities of its coast meant nothing to me. Guess I'd better renew my National Geographic subscription!
My first dominant impression was the smell of burning. I thought it might be a local house fire but then, I didn't know any better did I?
I stopped at the inevitable ShireStuff convenience store and asked directions to the boarding house (which conveniently, I was to discover, was up some distance from the coast) to which I'd secured a month-to-month lease. I mentioned the smell and he smiled.
"Ah," he said, "the work of the Vandals! You've noticed!" The man had an accent that was hard to place, but was certainly different from the vanishing isles.
"Notice? You mean the burning smell? Of course, it's all over the place. What's it from?"
"The Vandals. They come in, burn down the town."
"What?!"
"Well, not the whole town. Mostly the coastal areas."
"That's awful! What did the government do?"
He looked at me, puzzled.
"What do you mean? The government sent them. They were really good, too!"
"Really good?!"
"Oh, yes," he replied seriously. "I mean, the Visigoths are better but they are so expensive. But the Vandals are true professionals, they know their business."
I have to admit, at this point, the vanishing islands were looking a lot more dependable than this place.
"You mean, the town was burned by Vandals, not vandals."
"Come again?" the proprietor asked, wondering if my cheese had slipped off my cracker.
"By vandals, you don't mean punk teenagers... you mean Vandals with a capital 'V'. Like the one's who sacked Rome?"
"With all respect, I believreal, real money, right? They could afford the best."
I paid for my snacky cakes and decided this would be an excellent time to find my inn and hope that the bar was open.
It was.
The Inn of the Dancing Dog (I was told there was a story behind that but, at that moment, I didn't really want to know) had a warm hearth, a friendly group of regulars and excellent food.
A plump, pleasant looking barkeep called Death Reaper (another story I didn't really want to know at the moment) brought me some excellent beer I'll never be able to remember because its name had all consonants.
I told him of my mysterious conversation with the ShireStuff proprietor.
He laughed.
"Ah," he said, "La Fiesta de la BOOO/\/\!!"
"Ouch! Jeeze, no need to scream it in my ear!"
"Oh, I am so sorry. But that is how it's pronounced."
"What is it?"
"Well," he said, "a long time ago, there was a battle and the town was burned to ashes."
"That's terrible."
"Yes. But it was a long time ago. And the war was won!" (I noticed he didn't say by who... Are not most wars won?
) "So, each year, the government celebrates by burning the town.""That sounds a bit extreme, I mean, wouldn't a parade and fireworks work as well?"
"Well, the entire town isn't burnt anymore... though," he looked thoughtful, "there are the occasional accidents... But it is basically the coastal areas that are burnt. The highlands are relatively safe."
"Relatively?"
"Like I said, there are accidents."
"But," I asked, "what about the people? The fishermen, the dockworkers. The poor who live near the sea? What about them?"
"It's not so bad," he replied. "The housing and businesses by the sea are really bare sticks and canvass. Hardly anyone lives there. Who would, knowing they are burned each year?"
"But the ones that live there..."
"o and their neighborhoods are rebuilt. They live in their newly built (if flimsy) housing rent free the rest of the year. I mean, we're just talking sticks and canvass."
"But that's still an outrage! How can poor people be burned out of their homes when they're paying tribute to support the Barons and Counts and, yes, Dukes in exchange for their protection!"
"Well," Reaper said, with an apologetic shrug, "that's just life in a feudal Duchy."
In the day or two following that exchange, I was to find out that "that's just life in a feudal Duchy" is an expression around Shireroth, though citizens of Musica like to claim that they originated it.
I was tired from the travel and had probably one more beer in me than was appropriate for lunch, so I rudely blurted out, "Isn't Musica known for anything other than being burned by the government each year?"
Reaper looked at me thoughtfully.
"Well," he said, "we really do have an excellent library..."
"...in the highlands, of course." he said with a smile.
Putting my bags in my room, I decided to wander over to this library where I was pleasantly surprised to find that they had - amongst may other excellent resources - a quite decent law library.
I saw a copy of the latest County of Musica law newsletter and saw a headline about a certain Baron Jess Heimer. The comments seemed pretty agitated for a law journal.
I grabbed a copy and sat down to read. Now, let's see what this is all about.
I love it, write more!
We usually pray to 
[/i]
