An androgynous woman in a pristine suit with black bob-cut hair comes in and sits at the table. 

"I'm Thorn's backer," she states. "My organization hates slavery, and purchases Hours at a thousand times market rate. We want a bloodless victory over Albion. You form the Reach's natural government. You're worth consulting." The corner of her mouth quirks up.

"Yes, you sound like the best news for peace and independence ever bloody heard in this part of the sky. 'Bloodless' is not what a lot of us want, but 'a thousand times market rate' covers many, many demands. Still. You'll find that the Tacketies, as such, aren't what you'd call a unified organization. Completely bloodless would be hard to pull off. I assume you're going to want to stop people hunting intelligent beings, too?"

"Outlawry isn't on the table yet. When the war's done, maybe. Close to bloodless is acceptable, especially if it's faster. We'll coordinate with anyone competent. Any requests from you?"

"If Thorn's boasting is accurate I'm more worried about 'accidents' than accidents... A clearer picture of your capabilities. Large amounts of food, medical magic, construction material, new technology. Are you going to want us to invade Albion itself too?"

"You could tour one of our trade worlds. We can fulfill those requests. We don't expect you to invade Albion. However, Albion refugees will need sheltering. Will you provide?"

"Probably not me personally. I'm sure you understand paranoia. Refugee care, huh? ...Could make it work if locals get the goods too. We're a bunch of homesteaders at heart, can play on that. You'll want to make it easier for Albion refugees to get here."

She draws on the cigar.

"Funny how everyone knows I'm the one to talk to to get things done. How despite the Assembly's ostensible authority, if I say the word, they'll sign whatever's in front of them. Seems like someone always ends up in that position. I'm not sure I have a point."

"I understand. One of your trusted. When the time comes we'll relocate the workworlds wholesale. Renovate them so they're livable, that's easiest. We'll find them space if you can't, but..." 

Morning-Glory smiles. 

"A charity I know tried to fix that problem. It worked until they realized the charity was now in power. Humans look for leaders. Let's be good ones."

"We can find places to put some former workworlds. Let's talk details."

She has some questions about the tech and magic on offer, tuned to the mind of a military commander. Weapons and logistics and defenses. She shares precious intelligence and secrets - a lot of what they have on the New Street Line already trying to smuggle people away from the workworlds, what they know about conditions upon the worlds in question and the mechanism that keeps them fast (not much, on the last point).

She finds a trusted subordinate, a Colorful Clerk who does administrative work and odd jobs, for the trade-world tour. She asks for something to facilitate rapid passage between Lustrum and Company House as part of an initial aid package, insisting that it will be a massive boon to organization and coordination. Shave a month off her very tentative timetable, at least. She describes Sweet Jane and her political faction of bloody-handed revenge seekers in matter-of-fact tones, as well as what she needs to sideline them.

They share information on the full capabilities they can bring to bear, then scale back to the reasonable and sane. They accept the intelligence with good grace and say it's worth more than enough to sponsor a teleport link between Lustrum and Company House. 

The Colorful Clerk is taken to an OTC world, a skyscraping garden named Arcbright. It's full of teleport pads and trees with limes that let you fly. There are humans and a kind of bipedal fox-people called Kitsune and a smattering of part-human-part-kitsune people and a smaller smattering of other intelligent species. Everyone is not only in good health, but prettier. Tattoos and enchanted items are popular, particularly a kind of necklace that supposedly lets one mint currency on demand? How the financial system hasn't collapsed is unclear. They meet an elven professional magician (a healer specializing in genetic diseases) and a human artist who develops 3d models for virtual reality video games and the Kitsune manager of a hairdressing and furdressing shop and a human professional masochist, wealthy from minting pain, who sees clients on the side. All of them seem solidly middle-class, as much as that's still applicable.  

The Colorful Clerk does his best not to stare at the nonhumans. He's continually surprised by the lack of old people despite the existence of a logical explanation. Minting requires various sacrifices, that's obvious enough. The Colorful Clerk, despite his moniker-fitting outfit, acts fairly frightened and cautious and skeptical and takes looooots of notes. He's idly curious if his mother's claim to have Devil blood is true or not, if such a thing is obvious without much effort? (This turns out to be false.)

He is... Mostly unable to understand what video games are but mentions that one of the example VR scenes, flying through a high-cliffed cloud forest, reminds him of the High Wilderness. Ooh! He'll buy a hair dye service with the funds acquired by trading in a lonely Hour! Something fancily shaded and obviously unnatural. Blue, maybe.

...It's hard to look for sex workers for most kinks back home. A lot of that stuff is very Bohemian and carries a certain stigma. He is. Not sure what to say at all here. The pain thing seems like a social good, at least, almost nobody would actually starve for lack of funds to buy food if they could hurt about it for a little while instead.

(He asks the people he meets how old they are. About the political issues they're concerned with. Whether they're worried about racism, persecution, crime. About what inter-world organizations other than the OTC exist. What their hopes and dreams are.)

The elven healer (fifty-eight) is concerned about racism and says that people treat being an elf like a fancy fashion accessory and it's really not. She gets people assuming she's snooty and aloof which she isn't. She doesn't think crime is really a problem here usually. She's hoping to do a term working for the Healing Corps bringing proper healthcare to half-tamed worlds, specializing in complex cases that can't be solved by simple casting. She has a long road ahead of her but she's determined!!

The human artist (thirty-four) is a little sad that they can't really get their favorite medium across to the visitor from a Half-Tamed world, but is willing to let it be. They're mostly concerned about representation for minorities. They think racism is an issue that needs addressing but that humans and kitsune mostly have it pretty good. They don't consider crime an issue. They don't know of any other interworld organizations. They're working their dream job and plan to continue doing so.

The kitsune furdresser (one hundred twenty seven) happily does the Colorful Clerk's hair for them personally. He isn't particularly concerned about politics or racism but he can tell an anecdote about how he was once burgled when they lived in a cheaper place and had his late great-grandmother's jewellery stolen and came back to her armoire in pieces on the floor. The police got it all back and the criminal had their movement powers revoked and got stuck in jail. It was still kind of scary though! He's putting money aside to do a term of studies at one of the good universities and hopefully become rich enough to afford an immortality. And from there, well, he'd have all the time in the world. For real.

The human professional masochist (five hundred and seventy one) is sympathetic about the culture gap and quite personable. She makes no advances nor offers, obviously. She's concerned with maintaining the liscence of the Rose Bowers to have enclaves in this world, and mentions them as a second inter-world organization unlike the OTC. She's in a somewhat more dangerous profession so she has a standard slate of protective enchantments laid on the room where she sees clients and has never had a problem. She's heard of other girls who couldn't afford the protections and got into bad situations though. She's old enough to vaguely remember a time when sex work was stigmatized here but in the modern day that's not an issue. She is saving for an immortality with her minting and sex work and hoping to establish a real reputation so it'll go faster.

What is being an elf really like, then? What do the Healing Corps do and just how separate are they from the OTC? What makes a world half-tamed as opposed to not tamed at all? What sorts of shiny medical advances can they look forward to beyond the wonders of antibiotics and vaccines (which might not suffice for the more exotic ailments) and literal magic?

He's trying! He'll try a few different ones! But he complains that the games seem to assume he knows a lot of things he doesn't. The art is very pretty, mind you. The more abstract and less actiony games go over better. Eventually when trying a deckbuilder something clicks and he falls right into trying to optimize draw odds and create ridiculous combo chains, and then he loves the idea.

Crime is a pretty significant problem at home. Piracy is a legitimate threat to commerce. Gangs demand protection money and killing each other even as they smuggle and sell dangerous illegal drugs. The Reach is fairly lawless- Sometimes literally, sometimes only effectively. What a lawful Reach looks like everyone disagrees on but it needs to happen! (He is passionate about this subject.)

Five hundred... He recalls that things were much worse for gay and trans people even just twenty-thirty years ago, where he's from. His grandfather refused speak to his sister for decades when she started wearing dresses and makeup. And then something sketchy a bunch of Devils did gave her the right body - mostly - and old Albert was suddenly fine with it. (Grumble.)

What else is there to see here?

Elves can see better and hear better and sometimes that causes sensory issues. Being an elf in a crowd of humans feels a bit like being lost at sea, there's no-one like her she can turn to except her family and they're all scattered across other worlds - Sorry. If humans can survive and have a society in it it's half-tamed at least. Trade worlds like Arcbright are the next level up, when all the major threats have been dealt with and you're left with the hard problems. Speaking of which, she will totally natter on about genetic diseases and gene splices and do you have organ transplants and genetic sequencing and vat-grown organs and so on? 

The artist grins at finally finding the video game that clicks. "Yeah, I love this stuff. I can rec you three more in this genre if you're interested?"

The kitsune mhmms along as he dyes the Colorful Clerk's hair a shocking shade of blue. Law in the reach is certainly important, even more so than here. 

The courtesan smiles. "Progress is always being made, you know. Even on the hard problems."

There are parks and gardens and museums and concert halls and theatres of a few kinds and whatever a Bower Enclave is (his tour guide warns against this) and the Temple of Aura, all available from the closest teleport pad.

They mostly do not have all those medical things. He suspects that most of the dramatic diseases that are problems at home are magical in origin. Though they do still get flus and the like. There are a lot of threats and a lot of nonhuman people in the High Wilderness, it's pretty dangerous in a lot of places.

He can write down recommendations but he's not sure he'll be buying video games anytime soon. There's kind of a lot of more important things going on back home.

What would the courtesan call 'hard problems' still existing on this world? Nobody's starving or suffering from lack of medicine or shelter around here. Everyone seems quite safe and happy. It seems wonderful to him.

He'll find a restaurant and eat something moderately exotic, as a break.

Why does his tour guide warn against the Bower Enclave? (It would be a lot of effort to fake an entire world (city, he hasn't verified the whole world is this) for some unclear deceptive benefit but suspicion runs fairly deep in the Tacketies by now.)

The courtesan counts off the hard problems on her fingers: true immortality for everybody, morphological freedom for everybody, an end to work, an end to hierarchy. The OTC is not well-shaped for solving some things, she wryly observes. Some people would consider it awful that some people are faced with the choice between starving and hurting themselves. Personally she is all aboard the "hurting yourself" train and has been for years, but again, it goes to show...

The restaurant serves him what it assures him is a vat-grown steak dinner with mashed potatoes and a strange but delicious green vegetable on the side. It's quite cheap.

His tour guide elaborates that the Bower Enclave is the Bohemian or Red-Light District and could be rather shocking to him culturally if he explores it for long. 

It does seem like there are ever higher goals to reach. The OTC, like all huge and powerful corporations, would seem to benefit from certain things that do not necessarily benefit people. He tries to get her to gauge how much of a concern this is, whether there are any governments that could... Contest the OTC. Even if governments could be worse.

Britons are not in the habit of questioning the origins of their meat because the answer is usually unpleasant, but, huh. It's certainly tasty. He'll take one in an ice box to go home, if they do that.

...With that warning he'll poke his head into the Enclave for the duration of a quick stroll and then right back out. It's not like he resents Bohemians their self-expression and sexual openness and artistic whims or anything, it's just not what he's used to, after all. After that, a semi-random wander through as much of the city as possible, or maybe to some overlooking views. Then to the Temple of Aura to see what it's about.

There have been governments able to contest the OTC in the past, but the OTC has always brought them to the negotiating table eventually. The goddess Aura bargained Her service to the OTC in exchange for their full support of Her people; She could cause significant damage should She wish to. She's never heard of a successful rebellion against the OTC. There are places they can't manage alone, like Imperium where they get refugees from sometimes, but that's why the OTC is always expanding. 

They can give him one in a cooler to take home.

The Bower Enclave is occupied by a lot of people in skimpy clothing and a bodypainting artist decorating a nude model and several very nice hotels that charge by the hour and bars and clubs with live music and outright brothels not even trying to disguise themselves. 

There's an overlook at the Musem of Aurican History, along with all the artifacts and artwork. Arcbright was apparently contacted by the OTC some seven hundred and fifty years ago and since then has experienced one rebellion, six hundred years ago, which was resolved firmly in the favour of the OTC. Aura's presence left, which required some adjustment, but overall the trade has been in Arcbright's favour. 

The overlook shows a wide span of buildings, parks and skyscrapers, any of which he can reach from the nearby teleport pad should he choose to go exploring. 

The Temple of Aura is a small, quiet building, lit by candelight. Incense smokes in pots set aside for it. The main attraction is the body of a teenage girl, lying on her side, wearing a purple dress and wrapped in a black blanket with stars on it.  She breathes shallowly. 

The interpretive sign states that this is the body of the Goddess Aura, whose dreams change the world. As She rests here, Her mind wanders other worlds, bringing to them the kind of prosperity Arcbright enjoys. All hail to Her, gentlest and strongest of goddesses.

Notes notes notes notes. A few photographs, too, at the overlook and other places or people who agree to it (careful only to catch the glitzy exteriors of the hotels and clubs and not any actual people in the Bower Enclave), with a bulky anachronistic device dug out of his messenger bag that probably actually uses film that needs to be developed.

He was hoping for a priest of some kind in attendance at the temple...?

In response to his faint hope:

I do not need priests, dove. The impression of a slight smile.

He is suddenly very, very scared. The attention of a Power is almost never a good thing.

Out they go. Quickly now.

Aura lets him be. She had hoped for a conversation, but this is fun too.

He's a little spooked and about ready to go home. Or perhaps to an OTC-official store to poke around, and then home.

There's a store. Along with the standard catalog he was shown there are many more standard services; by teleported catalog-order there are the contents of a very expansive general store. Food is cheap, lifespan is cheap, most household goods are cheap. It's exotics and services that are expensive. 

And after that he can go home!

The Colorful Clerk makes a report. The Indurate Veteran wants to disbelieve it, but he seems... Quite convinced.

The Tacketies start buying Hours at a hundred times market rate. The 'gold rush' on Lustrum kicks into overdrive. They bring in industrial mining equipment, only some of which catastrophically fails when it first cracks a geode of time. They step up the intel-gathering on the Windward Company into high gear with fancy high-tech spy gear. They build public housing and clinics and a factory on Lustrum. They distribute internal propaganda about how the rank and file and even most of the lower management of the Stovepipes are just poor buggers trapped and deceived into working for a slave-driving company.

They vanish Stovepipe informers into cushy jail cells for the duration. They refit dozens of scout engines with magical armor, engines, and disabling weapons. They train some Marines with Dimension Door artifacts, carapace armor, and stun weapons. They work on the structure of the Reach Parliament. She issues a generous bounty for Windward prisoners, with nothing at all paid for corpses. She gets Sweet Jane's Counting House under new management. They outrageously bribe lots and lots of people, and set up teleport networks throughout the Reach.

The Windward Company can tell something big is coming. They're preparing for the same war that happened last time, though, not one where the Tacketies have an overwhelming intel, tech, and manpower advantage.

Does December Morning-Glory want to send them some volunteer doctors, or war correspondents? They'll be useful for making everyone feel watched and thus on their best behavior.

Director Sunaira of Anti-Slavery Services hands Department Manager Morning-Glory a very large check. Morning-Glory inserts Agents into Albion, the OTC's best. The Agents contact the New Street line and the workworld rebels, and organize. Like strands of a net being gathered into a hand, readying for the right moment to be pulled taut.

The Agents also bring news of the Storm that Speaks, the Clockwork Sun, Perdurance, Worlebury-Juxta-Mare. One of them has a close encounter with a giant sea urchin and its staring central eye. A whole new crop of problems appears on Morning-Glory's desk. They have moved too quickly on this world, perhaps. But the die is cast. 

Morning-Glory arranges for the more rugged arm of the Healing Corps to provide medical services during the war. War correspondents can also be found. But this is the Tacketies' war, not theirs; they stop short of supplying outright mercenaries.