Teysa's visit with Uncle has concluded productively, and she is returning from the mansion district to the city center. She says farewell to the ancient solifuge golem Pazapatru who guards the bridge, but as she steps off its edge and her messenger thrulls approach, something ripples. She trips on her bad leg and briefly loses sight of her surroundings.
Teysa orders a slightly different stir fry, and picks at the fruit when she notices it's served to be shared. (Usually at restaurants she was culturally obligated to performatively overeat and/or waste food, so 'shared appetizers' are a slightly foreign concept.)
She asks some questions about objective standards for measuring change in a soul, expecting this to be fuzzy enough not to be decisive, then examines the terms around the distinction.
"If I was arguing for the first contract, one tactic I've used is to goad a counterparty - either the second contractor, or the original man who had the soul - into testifying, and try to subtly corner them into admitting they didn't actually believe the 'different person' standard was met, or even better that they didn't think it could realistically be met. Obviously it depends on their personality, but it works more often than you might think. That also assumes that you have a concept analogous to mens rea. In short, that's 'intentions matter' - that someone entering into a contract, or filing suit, under knowing false pretenses, has a significant effect on whether the contract can be enforced or the suit upheld."
The standards for "new soul" are indeed not enough to be decisive. They're very high, but then, something very extreme happened to the man, involving Parabola.
"Always a sound tactic. It can be very helpful to unnerve a foe - or to make them underestimate you by focusing on the 'wrong' things. Tricky, tricky. We generally don't hold with mens rea, the letter of the law is superior. Nor do we hold with the nonsense of precedent. What would you guess actually happened in the end, in this case?"
"You might be missing out. Precedent creates more complex law, and complexity favours the party with experience and money. But here... The first contract. Pragmatism favours the one who can take possession immediately, and he can argue that he wagered for the soul, whatever would become of it, extreme changes not excepted. Not a flawless argument but a very strong one."
"Perhaps, perhaps. The old entrenched system always has the advantage. It does depend on one's objectives and position. Every system has its factions, doesn't it? There's a saying I picked up from an engineer... The design is not complete when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away. In this case, you're broadly correct- The soul was claimed by the first holder, and the thing left behind was promptly given a terrible fate by the second in anger over the whole affair."
"Tch. And what did they gain from that, hmm? Discouraging others from contracting in the future, and a misplaced sense that it wasn't their own error that was at fault."
"Discouraging others from contracting - in certain ways - is exactly what they meant to gain from it. I'm sure you can imagine how much more reluctant people were to look very carefully for technicalities that could cheat them, going forward. And of course, it's never that simple. Never just one thing. You don't have the historical context or even the names, but just another move in the great game. Wouldn't it be nice if it was just the words on the paper? But that's chivalric thinking, in my opinion."
"In my experience, it's much easier to get other organizations to play along with your rules when they're written down. Less relevant here than in the Khanate or London, I suppose, but if you're planning to stick around for centuries... Obviously it limits you, but make the text complex enough and it's not much."
"I see the point. There's something to be said for specificity, and for labyrinthineness, yes. All too often, of course, the law we weave fails before those of greater powers. From a position of cooperation, of exploring the possibilities, it is less useful. If what I've heard is right, you're from a vast city, powerful heir to an empire that, while not above all reproach, not immortal for nothing is, is at least as sturdy as the Mountain-of-Light. The position of Hell is less secure than the Mountain's."
"You're well-informed. One of a few hundred heirs, and I haven't actually heard of the Mountain of Light yet. But, yes, I have not gotten the sense that anything here has lasted to its Decamillennial, which everything important back home will have within a decade. It does remove some of the incentives, particularly for the group." She stops, but turns a hand slowly, thoughtfully, like she's trying to grasp something she can't see.
Then she finds it, and continues, "But, hmm, say I was a mortal considering contracting with a devil. If the angry second party wanted to secure my soul personally, and I'd heard about his retaliation, I'd certainly need a higher price before I'd consider him over the first party, or some other devil I knew nothing about. He's discouraged me from trying to be tricky with him, certainly, but I'm not likely to want to play straight with him either - I'd rather just not play. And that's not good unless all of Hell coordinates on similar levels of punishment for being foiled by attempted cleverness. Does it?"
"The Mountain of Light has seen its kilomillenial and more; The beings who dwell at its feet have seen their regime's decamillenial. Hell does not coordinate on that front, specifically. What's a little bit of profit in comparison to long-term considerations? Such as a reputation for not being trifled with. Aside from the odd malcontent, much of our coordination goes to political efforts. Have you heard of Carillon? A great success story, really."
"To an Orzhov, profit is the point, for its own sake. Always. But I understand why you might make a different tradeoff. What is Carillon?"
"A soul-improving resort presided over by a very intimidating, very capable woman. A partnership with several wealthy human patrons, allowing the skilled sculptors of the soul to care for the masses." He smiles broadly, with just a hint of menace in the eyes. "Faith, morality, the notion of sin... Such funny ideas they come up with, but we can help excise your greed. Your lust. Your envy. Mutually beneficial."
"Faith is such a useful lever, isn't it? Sin was never really our line with it, too prone to making people think there are things that coin can't redeem. But it keeps the masses under control marvelously."
"From what I understand it was something between a historical accident and a bit of an inevitability when our trade is souls and nothing but. There were some areas that held more convenient views, at times and places. It is what it is. How do you define profit? The line between gains from trade and increases in production, and more complete control of available resources..."
"Coin itself, for the most part. Precious metals aren't nothing, and in theory anything which an overwhelming majority of the populace perceives as a store of value can do. But it absolutely must be an unambiguous physical representation of material wealth, that's ritually significant."
"I'm curious what the margin of error is on 'overwhelming majority' and 'store of value' are. Gemstones? Bronzewood? Tea? Souls? Paper or cryptographic fiat?"
"Cryptographic fiat? I have no idea what that could even be. I think the Families have actively blocked the widespread use of any fiat or unbacked letters of credit, in order to keep our lives and ritual magic simpler; there hasn't been enormous counterpressure. Guild scrip doesn't count, neither as debt or as credit. I don't actually know yet which trade goods here would count; the drive for profit is - fundamental but not moment-to-moment obvious, absent extreme cases like large-sum charity. If I reconstruct the Council ritual, I suppose I'll find out along the way."
"Something terribly clever and entirely useless that a group of Scrive-Spinsters once came up with. Something about mathematical proofs and verification." He waves dismissively. "Interesting... Well, there's a lot of chaos in the absence of a strong hierarchy, but Sovereigns ought to do if nothing else. Precious metal, stained glass in larger denominations, symbolic and minted and used in at least three major regions."
"Yes, I imagine so. Gemstones and souls seem likely as well, though I've gathered 'soul' doesn't mean quite the same thing here, since it can be extracted nonfatally."
"Quite so. The soul is not the mind. Most other things I could elaborate on to continue the casual transaction of lunch conversation get uncomfortably close to actual secrets, when souls are involved."
"Then I will try not to press. One thing, though: Are ghosts a commonly-known occurrence here? I haven't heard of them yet, and it would be informative as to which of my old assumptions I must scrutinize."
Their food is mostly gone at this point. "Thank you for the meeting. Perhaps we can do business some time, you do seem like someone we would find satisfactory to work with."
"I'm glad; it seems like interesting potential work. If you don't mind, is there anyone nearby you'd call competent to explain the very basics of the Correspondence? Most locals are, quite reasonably, content to stop at 'don't touch', but I think I ought to look a little deeper, and you seem rather more daring."