"It's old history. Most people - Er, most humans up here came from the Neath, and it was there. It's not the serious kind of bad luck. But it's old history and kind of a lot to explain and you don't want to get stuck on heavy topics in flight, as a general precaution."

"Same for the 'Neath' in general? I'll just have to be patient, then. What makes an Empress a Traitor?"

There's a round of chuckles. "That's history. Again. She sold the city of London to the Bazaar, which brought it to the Neath."

"Shut up about the Bazaar already. And deal. C'mon."

The dealer deals. "Maybe you oughta buy a book in Eagle's Empyrean about it. We can chat about the Neath, I suppose... It wasn't quite as bad as the High Wilderness, I think. A vast sea, formless and dark, rather than a great sky."

"I'm sure I will, but I like learning from people better. Hear what's important to them, not just what some dusty writer thinks."

But in any case, she antes up.

The game moves on. Later, one of the crew, Annie (because the names thing is stupid in her opinion and they can't all have cute titles for each other), tries to spook Teysa by repeating gruesome stories from the Neath and the Sky. Eye-eating sorrow-spiders. Cannibals. Brain-eating Snuffers. Flukes that make your eyes bleed just from looking at them. And more.

She retorts with moroii who sap decades of youth from your flesh in seconds, Rakdos blood witches who call the vagrants down into their theater-altars to sacrifice themselves willingly, Simic graft-doctors who are equal parts squid, elf, deer, and virus, and Izzet 'inspiration' that sends whole city blocks speaking in each other's voices and seeing strange colors.

(She doesn't expect to win, but it's fun to try.)

Parabola, the nightmare realm where dreams are reality. The Work-Worlds, London's solution to debtors: Time accelerated prison labor. Old Tom's Well, a permanent hurricane that draws people to it in fascination. Piranesi... Well, she knows that one doesn't she?

Annie thinks this is great fun but they should probably stop before she gets to the things it's dangerous even to know about.

"I didn't actually go inside Piranesi, they wouldn't tell me the rules. And I'm pretty much out of spooky stories, you win anyway," she says with a grin.

"Could you do me a favor, though? Explain the thing with names and titles. I'd rather fit in, where I can, and 'the Dire Lady' is just what one of the Chaplains called me on the spur of the moment. I don't know how people choose better ones, or why."

"First rule, don't look back. Second rule, don't give names to the nameless. As for 'nyms... Well, it's just a thing, isn't it? From the inside anyway. You can use peoples' names, but it's a lot more fun and mysterious - Not boring old George Miller, the Blue-Eyed Gossip. Mostly important or notable people get proper 'nyms, though. Or it's a friend group's in-joke. It's kind of trashy to call yourself something grand without someone else starting it. You can shift it or reject one but... You kind of have to see it in action? You have poise and obviously nice clothes in foreign make - with bone. Dire Lady fits just so."

"Ivory," she says absently, "technically different. Ivory for Orzhov, bones for... well, it doesn't matter. Honestly, I'll probably sell the ornamentation off in port, it's meant to advertise whose protection I'm under, and I'm not."

She catches herself, and her train of thought, and turns back to Annie with a carefully-chosen smile, one that shows "Good work" and "Thank you" and a little bit of "Aren't you a lovely thing?" that tends to fluster anyone into not paying much attention to what came just before it.

"Thanks, that's very helpful. I suppose I'll keep it for a bit, probably change names when I've found my feet a bit better and know who I want to be here. Probably not still a solicitor."

Annie raises an eyebrow and nods. "Isn't ivory just bones from some great beastie or another? Also, surprising level of demand for law people in Pan, I think... I've got my course and you yours."

"More teeth than bone, that's what makes it rare. I guess I'll see what Pan's like when we get there."

"Guess so. Back to work with me." Sigh. "Boring is the best kind of trip, though."

Nothing else of particular note happens on the trip, save a slight detour to avoid something that's too far to get a clear look at.

"That's the truth. Thanks again."

Pan is a wild, overgrown collection of islands, with mist framing the structures that throng with small craft making the short trips from the loose collection of islands. Old ruins and groves that practically promise secrets, faint music echoing across the sky from it. All overseen by a great statue of something not quite human. The dockyards are disorganized but busy, with at least a dozen engines not much more reputable-looking than this one waiting in scattered, branching landing areas. She sees a scuffle on the docks through the porthole as they come in to land, a group of rough sorts kidnapping some young sailor and vanishing into the alleys.

Eugh. Yeah, she's not staying here unless it gets her very rich. And not stepping off the dock without both Bephel and Elpheb on her heels.

Once they're docked, assuming it's not a rush, she'll go find the Captain.

"Can you give me the one-minute version of how people operate in Pan? I assume there's something people rely on to not be mugged in - well, not broad daylight, but what passes for it?"

"Walk with a tough crew. Have a visible weapon. Don't show the tells of the local factions on their enemies' turf, or fuck with them on it-"

He summarizes them: The Brazen Brigade, Devils pretending to be knights. The Heart-Catchers, a mysterious partnership with talking trees and a penchant for kidnappings. Winter's Reside, open revolutionaries trying to overthrow Her Imperial Majesty, the Queen. The Gentlemen, a self-policing society of smugglers, criminals, brutes, and other foul sorts.

"Pan's not an especially lawful place, I'm afraid, ma'am. I'm happy to organize an escort for a while if you'll lend me consequence and truth for a meeting with a Khanate contact of mine. Or maybe with the King. Of course, this being Pan, the King is not actually a position of authority. More champion of the moment, or chief storyteller."

"My thrulls will probably do until I can find some tentative friends; unfamiliarity lends menace, and they are dangerous enough to start. But I'd be happy to accompany you regardless, introductions are nothing to scoff at."

"Introductions I can do. My contact is Khara Two-Scar. She doesn't have two scars - she'll scar you twice if you cross her, or so she claims. Monster hunter of some renown with some ambiguous tie to Eagle's Empyrean's arms industry. I hope to buy some of the things one can get from monsters... And a bit of information."

The crate of Thrulls is brought forward. The crew carrying it back away quickly.

"Up you get, Grugg brothers. Stay on my heels, and don't attack anyone who doesn't attack me or this gentleman first."

The two thrulls push the less-secure side of the crate off, causing some minor damage to in the process. Bephel mutters something about scratching and killing, but they both quietly take their places just behind her.

The Bearded Captain has that officer from before follow him too, both of them armed with scary-looking guns. Their destination is a specific bar, not very far from here.

"Hey," the officer says to Teysa neutrally, "You oughta get a weapon."

"It's occurred to me. I don't recognize the technology of yours, but you hold them like bam-sticks, and with those I'm a poor shot, though I may improve with practice. For now, my weapons are walking behind me."

They snort. "They do go bam."

The Captain interrupts, "Khara is a bit... Imperious, but it's easier to just indulge her. We'll have to bow, like this," he demonstrates. "Full Khanate etiquette is one deep rabbit hole but in general be a bit less direct."

They don't actually stand out all that much on the streets of Pan. There's a fair amount of weirdness wandering around. Still, people seem to keep a carefully polite distance to each other. It doesn't take long to arrive at the bar, built out on a stone pier of some sort to look over a small lake and mysterious groves on a lower shelf of Pan. There's a bouncer. The bouncer eyes the Thrulls warily but ultimately lets them in.

Khara Two-Scar is pretty obvious. She has an actual throne with intricate carvings and silk cushions at one table, and a bunch of scarred hangers-on wearing the same sort of fashion around her. She smiles sharply when the Bearded Captain bows asks for permission to approach. "Come sit! I find myself curious who's accompanying you with such fine ivory. And gold. Bold to wear it like that."

She bows, slightly more shallowly than the captain.

"Well, I'm very foreign, and very new. In my own city, these clothes show every peasant that I am of the Orzhov Families and under their unsurpassed protection. But that is, quite literally, a world away. The Dire Lady, at your service."