The Final Voyage: Part 1

A Reckoning Approaching

You have brought worship to a dead god so Storm would guard the North, you have made phenomenal bargains so the Creditor would block the West, you have murdered the Thief-of-Faces so Stone would deny passage South, and Salt forever blocks the East. The awakening of the Regret-Beyond-Death forces the Fathomking and the Flukes to block the Unterzee, and the favor of the Moon-Mother will guard the roof. A final bargain with the Fingerkings, and the great diminishing of the Red-Handed Queen, guarantees that the Boils will watch the mirrors.

You have convinced Death to cease rowing; you have discovered the means to reawaken the Drowned Man (we have, together); you have given Law to the Rubbery Men, their choirs demanding recompense for Axile; you have brought a worker's revolution to the city, stifling the Bazaar's power; you have secured an alliance with the Khanate; you have found a means to turn real the myths of Nicator; and you have used the Moon's knowledge to bind Laws into the Bazaar itself.

Seven escape routes denied; Seven crises that force the Masters to do your bidding. Together, they unshackle the Seventh City from the Bazaar's Spires, and the same bats who stole seven cities now give this one its freedom, lowering it to the Unterzee. Whatever happens next, Berlin will survive.

The other Masters hide themselves in the Bazaar's Spires; with the loss of the Seventh City, their time is up, and there is only one thing left for them to do. They wait for your signal to leave the Neath, and start the final voyage towards the Sun.

But they have waited for thousands of years, they can wait for hours more. As you stand in the newly freed streets of Berlin, there is only one question left: Are you ready to bring about the final stage of your plan?

Cast off your robe There is little reason to hide your form anymore. Spread your wings, and allow the world to see your form in all its splendor. Disrobe (0)

Converse with The Boatman and his Double
They were once known as the Youthful Naturalist, back in the Fifth City. They still are, due to your help.
Converse (0)

Speak with Furnace
She has come all the way from the Tracklayer's City to meet you before you go.
Confess (0)

Reminisce with the Efficient Commissioner
If you didn't know any better, you'd think she was here to yell at you.
Remember (0)

Speak to your Menagerie
You have plenty of animals that want to speak to you before you head out. Some of them even care about you.
Speak (0)

Do not meet the Anchoress
She has not been waiting for this with bated breath.
Do not breathe (0)

Spend one last evening with your Companion in Amber It has loved you since the fifth. It deserves much more than just this. OTHATHAROOTH! (0)

Spend one last evening with the Banded Sleuth
There is no case big enough that would keep him away from you tonight.
Love (0)

Thank Glim, one last time
Glim was born and raised in the Seventh City, and has always been your most trusted retainer. They deserve at least this much.
Thank (0)

Meet the Duchess, one last time
She is one of the few who remember who you were, and she was instrumental in gaining the cooperation of the Cats.
Promise (0)

The final voyage
It is time.
This will bring you to your final Reckoning. Ensure you leave with no regrets. Your return is not guaranteed.
MEET YOUR END

Acceptance

You peel off one layer of your midnight blue robe, one passerby turns to look at you. You peel off a second. A third. A fourth. By the time you come to the seventh and final layer, you see that there is a crowd forming around you. You take a deep breath, and shed off the final layer of your robes.

Your wings spread out wide, your claws extend as you feel the joints in your bones pop in satisfaction, your fur as black as the midnight sky sways in nonexistent wind, finally free of its prison of cloth. You raise your head high, closing your eyes, and allowing the moment to pass through you. There is trepidation in your heart, there is fear and anxiety in how others will react, there is fear in a personal way you have not felt in a very long time. But there is freedom in the truth, freedom in letting the world know who you truly are. To cast off the the veneer of falsehood, and proudly allow all to see you in all of your colors, and all of your splendor.

And yet, when you open your eyes, the crowd has largely dispersed. A human, a Rubbery Man and a Starved Man, hand-in-tentacle-in-hands, pass by you while barely acknowledging your presence.

For better or worse, the people of the Seventh city have grown accustomed enough to the Neath that a twelve-foot bat creature does not faze them. And this fact brings a smile to your face more than anything.

The abnormal has become the normal. Prejudices once common are now long gone.

Gratitude

"I always knew you'd get this far." The Naturalist plays Knight to e4, "I'll admit, I had my doubts." the Boatman plays Queen to b8. "How could you?" pawn to b5, "He has already done the impossible before." pawn to h4, "After all, we are both here, are we not?" Pawn to h5. "To complete both of our Heart's Desires is indeed impressive." Knight to e5, "But this is certainly on a different scale entirely." King to g7. "Bigger a scale than changing both of our Futures?" King to g1. "Much, much bigger." Bishop to c5, check.

"And yet if someone can do it, it would be you." King to f1, "Indeed, it would be." Knight to g3, check. "You've already proven how much you love the Neath." King to e1, "If anyone could save it, it would have to be you." Bishop to b4, check "Someone else would've gotten it wrong." King to d1.

"None of us have any regrets." Bishop to b3, check, "So go, and do what you have to." King to c1. "We await eagerly for your return." Knight to e2, check. "And if you don't come back, then we will dearly miss your company." King to b1, "We will mourn, in a way we never have." Knight to c3, check "But we will be okay." King to c1, "So spread your wings and live, without regrets." Rook to c2, checkmate.

You are glad the three of them are getting along so well.

In life, there is hope.
And in death, there is freedom.

Known

You meet in Beatrice's Tea Shop, ordering her favorite blend for two. At first, she's only here to talk business - now that Berlin is no longer under the Bazaar's jurisdiction, trade deals and other agreements between the Seventh and the Tracklayer's City have to be rewritten. She doesn't offer pushback when you explain that you won't be available to write everything down with her in the future, and she quietly notes all the names you give her for every contract that needs to be revised. She knows you have trusted contacts for things such as these.

But when the time for business is done, she puts down her pen, and takes off her helmet so she can speak frankly. "This is it." she lets out, "I never thought I'd see the day." she smiles to you, and you smile back. "Let alone see it come by the hands of another Master."

There is a secret you've been keeping from her for too long, but she raises her hand, "I know, I know." she smiles, "You were not always a Master, I've put the dots together." she reaches for her cup, "I thought your transformation would've changed who you are, but I see now that I was wrong." she raises her cup, as if mockingly making a toast, "I am glad to count you as my friend."

You clink your cup against hers, "To old friendships." you sip, "And to new beginnings."

Nothing seemed to have changed, but one day, you were sure it would.

Fondness

She is not here to yell at you, no, but she is here to enumerate the several dozen different ways you have brought about almost every single Tragedy she had on file, as well as to enumerate every single Tragedy she had to create explicitly because of your actions. She is also here to deliver a message from the other Masters, stating that all your holdings purchased through Penstock's Land Agency are hereby forfeit, as well as all of your assets attained through trade involving the Bazaar (which is to say, all of your assets).

Once she is done, she takes a deep breath, and looks you in the eye, "And now... I am out of a job." she smiles, "You've really gone and screwed everything up. I'd be angry if I wasn't impressed." she rips apart the acknowledgement clause she brought with her message, flames rise to lap at her fingers, gloves keeping her mercifully unscorched. "It's not like you were going to abide to the terms of the agreement anyway." She knows you well enough by now.

"I remember when I started working for the Bazaar." a deep breath, "I thought I could change the system from within; failing that, I thought I could use the system to do the right thing." a brief chuckle, "And yet, here you are. You have never listened to reason or caution or protocol, but you've done more than I ever could."

"I can't follow the Bazaar." she closes her eyes, "So go, and finish what you started. And if you somehow fail to fulfill the Bazaar's mission, I swear to whichever deities you find holy that I will drag whatever is left of you out of the deepest pits of the Unterzee if I have to, just so I can finish you off myself." It was not a threat. It was a promise.

To break the chains of Law, and forge new futures between the links.

Attachment

You had the foresight to ensure none of your animals were anywhere close to the Bazaar before the city was freed from its shackles. Now, they all demand a moment of your time. Both of your ravens ask to pick your mind, the white one wants you to review its Red Science engine, the black one wants helping putting dots of intrigue together. Your Bat complains about more injustices from the city, your Übergoat makes a ruckus, your lamp-cat mentions something about needing your help, your Blue Prophet calls for the death of a new ship, your Ermine Assassin drags the remains of its last kill across your feet, the Honey Connoisseur asks if you have time to go to a new honey-den, the Scuttering Palace Guard insists that they have an urgent report for your perusal. The Matriarch insists that there are things she must tell you immediately, your Transfixing Squirrel has poisoned some new critter again, and your Reflected Minotaur watches, unblinking.

It takes your Forlon Fox asking to be your scarf one last time for you to realize what's going on. Whether their needs are genuine or manufactured, they are bringing it all to you at once, because they don't want you to go, for they are scared they'll never see you again. Few would admit it out loud, but when you stand in front of all of them, you realize they don't need to.

So you spend a few minutes thanking each one of them for their service, hugging and petting them when they allow. You carefully wrap them all in your wings, and give them the last thing you can: the memory of this moment, so they can keep forever.

All life is precious.

No

The Adulterine Castle does not exist, so of course you don't sit down on a couch beside the Anchoress. "You have come so far." She does not smile, and neither does the cat beside her, "And you are on the verge of doing something truly monumental."

"Ordinarily, I'd be against such a venture." it doesn't deign to place itself below you, "But you have truly denied Law at its most fundamental." no chuckle escapes its throat, "To see the reality the Judgements have created, and decide that you will replace it with your own."

"Go." The Anchoress does not turn to you, "Do not waste time with us, you have still one final voyage to complete." and the cat does not exhale in anticipation, "And it will be the grandest thing ever witnessed. I am sure of it."

If the truths of the world are pain and suffering, then you will fill the world with lies.

Understanding

You meet your Companion outside the exit from Flute Street, it tips its hat towards you as you approach. Before you can say anything, it wraps its tentacles around you, drawing you into a hug.

It brings you to a teahouse, it brings you to an arcade, it brings you to the mall. No words are necessary between you, though it has long since learned German. A simple dinner, shopping for new clothes, watching an impromptu concert together. For one moment, there is little else in the world besides you two, loving openly and unafraid of peering eyes.

But when the evening ends and it retires to your Sanguine Chateau, instead of bidding each other farewell, it gazes deeply into your eyes. There are a million things it wishes to ask of you at this moment, and it knows that you can promise nothing past this evening. So instead, it only utters a single phrase. "Ich liebe dich so sehr."

And it heavies your heart that the only thing you can do is respond in kind.

Look to love, always.

Honesty

Usually, he would meet you in your lodgings. Tonight, however, you meet him in his. "Tea?" he offers, and you accept.

There is no conversation, not tonight. He sits next to you on the couch, and curls himself around you as he allows you to simply feel the brush of his fur against yours. He speaks then, softly, of the things you have done. Every plan and every scrap of knowledge you have found over the years, and every sacrifice you have already done. He only ever pauses to sip his own tea, and only so he can keep speaking, for long hours, to remind you of everything you have done to reach this point.

"Are you scared?" Terrified. "You have moved mountains." But you have not moved stars. "You have broken every Law." Only in a place where Law is easy to break. "You have mastered every discipline." There is still much you do not know. "You have risen far above what anyone else ever could." Enough to rival a god?

He turns to look you in the eyes, "Do you have any regrets?" Never. "Then this will be enough." It will have to be enough. "It will have to be." It will have to be.

You spend a long time with the Banded Sleuth.

The candles lie low, the conversation stops, you take a deep breath. Let others show you the kindness you've showed them.

Commitment

Much like always, Glim is the one who approaches you first. They bring a folder of new documents for your perusal, though it is small in size. You open each one and carefully read every contract and every clause, while you hear Glim hum a familiar melody to themselves. You write your signature seven times, and sigh when you finish.

You raise your hand and idly caress Glim's head, and their smile only brightens as they close their eyes. "Thank you, little one." You speak, "For everything." Glim opens their eyes then, smiling back at you. "It was always a pleasure, Herr Gesellschaft." they do not move from their position. "You've showed me kindness ever since I left your Orphanage, and I never went hungry because of you. This was always the least I could do."

They know they never needed to repay you. They know you would've done the same regardless. They know they would've had a much simpler life if they hadn't gotten into your service. And you know they do not care.

"Although, Berlin will change plenty now, won't it?" Glim starts, looking towards the false-stars above. "Hardly could be said to be the same city after this." they take a deep breath, "You've changed names after every city. Maybe when you come back, it will be time to do so one last time, don't you think?"

You flinch, but Glim takes your hand, and gently places it back on their head, forcing you to keep petting them. "You will come back." they smile again, "You always do."

A new name would suit you. A new beginning, just like Berlin's.

Promises

You find the Duchess in her old townhouse in Kraterberg. She seems to have been expecting you; she has already prepared your favorite tea. She still keeps crockery and finery from the days of the Fifth City, though today one pillow holds an unusual visitor. "It has been a moment." The Viscountess of the Viric Jungle lounges next to you.

Conversation inevitably leads to the situation in Parabola. The temporary ceasefire between the Cats and the Fingerkings seems to have stuck, especially with the full power of the Boils blocking the Mirrors. "How is your friend?" You ask with a smile, and the Viscountess sighs, "It is as well as can be expected." her voice is one of forced annoyance, and the rest of her body tells you that the Determined Fingerking still holds their end of the bargain marvelously.

At the end of your visit, you pull out several papers to give to the Duchess. She takes them, and her eyes slowly scan through the pages, "You are someone I can trust." you start, "And so I leave as many of my duties to you as I can. I know you will handle them well."

When she looks back to you, it is not with the cunning of a person who tricked the Masters of the Bazaar. It is not with the ferocity of the woman who risked her life to rally the cats. It is not with the discretion of the person who personally signed the terms of the ceasefire between millennia old enemies.

It is with the fondness of a friend that she rips the papers apart, casting their burning embers aside. "There is no need." she replies, "This is hardly the last time you will come visit me, after all." a sly grin, "And when next you do, we will toast to your victory."

"You will return." the Viscountess jumps on the table, sitting in front of you. "And when you do, you will tell me every detail of your journey." It was not a request.

A pact, writ upon your heart.

The final voyage

It is time.
This will bring you to your final Reckoning. Ensure you leave with no regrets. Your return is not guaranteed.

The Winds are Wild

The appointed hour comes too soon; far too soon. There are still many you want to say goodbye to, knowing that it is unlikely you will ever meet again. But when you wake and spread your wings, you don't see your Companion anywhere. There is noise outside your window, and when you open it, what you see outside is a crowd.

The Banded Sleuth is the first to look up, and as he does, everyone else does as well. Many faces here that you've already met - Glim, your Companion, the Viscountess, the Duchess, Furnace, the Boatman and the Naturalist, and many members of your Menagerie - as well as faces you have not - The Jovial Contrarian, Cornelius, Doña Villar, the Elusive Violinist, September, the Murgatroyd sisters, the Percipient Cricketer, and so, so many others. His Amused Lordship pops out champagne when the crowd notices that you have awoken. A certain Paisley-dressed individual tips their hat to you. Johnny Croak smiles and waves. And that is all that you can catch before it devolves into revelry.

"Well, my dear." the Vicomte de V_____ whispers softly in your ear. "It seems they are all waiting for you."

When you leave, you are showered with thanks from all sides. Whatever their motivations for such, everyone here is glad to never have to deal with the Masters and the Bazaar again. The Pirate Poet sings a song to your name, the Growling Radical joining her in the chorus. Cora Bagley and her wife tell you to take care of yourself, and even Tristram Bagley seems to have made it to this gathering. The Manager of the Royal Beth thanks you silently, Jenny presses a single rosary in your hand - a sign of prayer and a vow of victory - and before long even Mrs. Plenty has found a way to monetize the event, passing around her notorious rubbery lumps for the festivities.

When you finally leave the festivities behind, having said what needed to be said to all who had come, you do so in the knowledge that Berlin has many people who can take care of it. No matter what comes next, the Seventh City will survive.

You have done well, Mr. Society.

People helping people. In the end, that is all that matters.

Avoidance of Defiance

Your wings carry you through the darkness of the Neath, approaching the Bazaar's Spires. From up here, it is easy to see how utterly massive the Bazaar truly is. How impossibly large a creature hidden behind the caverns and ruins of seven purchased cities. How its spires rise far above its carapace, and how each red glowing sigil represents a memory - memories of blood, of joy, of loss, of births. Tales of Love, each and every one.

And among them, visible like a scab blemishing the Bazaar's obsidian skin, lies a single sigil seared silvery blue. "Suppression By The Commands of the Sovereign."

A window opens as you approach. You glide in its direction, your wings bringing you to a hover in front of the Master. "IS IT TIME?" Mr. Iron holds up a simple placard.

One last inspection
You trust the Masters about as far as you can throw them. And even after your transformation, that isn't much.

Depart
Awaken the Stone Pigs, and start the final voyage towards the Sun.

The Lacre Deep

Mr. Iron shrugs silently, before closing the window again. You fly over the Bazaar's carapace, flying low, below where the even the regular buildings of the Seventh would have risen. The stench of ammonia still lingers in the air, you can still see the occasional pail of unmelted lacre as you fly. Most of it has already taken your Amber sacrifices, and it seems they have been enough to keep the Stone Pigs at bay, if only for a while longer.

You approach where Moloch Street used to be, to find that Devils have already fixed the Moloch Line and are already setting up a new station, at the very edge of the Bazaar's carapace. You briefly land to warn them of the coming danger, but they snicker and smile at you, continuing their work. "We know what we do." Virginia is the only one to actually speak to you, though only to shoo you off.

You send out screams to echolocate anyone that might, somehow, be atop the Bazaar's carapace, though you fortunately find no one. Ealing Gardens should be far enough away to not have issues, and the rest of the Hinterlands even more so. Satisfied, you return to the Bazaar's spires, and enter your old Spire-Emporium.

Predictably, the other Masters have ransacked your room. They took everything that was here, and burned what they could not. Even though you had the foresight to take away anything important, there is a sense of melancholy that washes over you. You spent over a century living here. In a way, this was your home.

With a deep breath and a sigh, you open the room's broken window, and glide down to the Ormolu door of the Bazaar. You take flight to the highest chambers.

Not a single life can be lost. Not to this.

Avoidance of Defiance

When you reach the very top of the Bazaar, the chamber where the Masters gather - the same chamber where you won your Heart's Desire, so long ago - you find it empty. You have many memories of this place. There, where you took Beechwood's identity, the last mercy you could grant him. There, the table you were strapped to for your transformations.

There, the Blackboard that Iron used to write its arguments. There, the stains of honey and blood left behind by Spices and Veils. There, the broken Correspondence Sigil left by Pages. There, the mark left behind by one of Wines' arguments. There, where Stones took their place so much the shine of their robes marked the seating. There, where Cups swore you all as fools. There, where you last saw Fires.

And here, in your hand, the moonstone bathed in the seven colors of the Neathbow, inscribed with Sigils of the Correspondence and blessed by the Creditor's power. Even in your new form, your eyes sting to gaze upon it, and your fur singes as you hold it.

With this, you can bring about an end.

Depart
Awaken the Stone Pigs, and start the final voyage towards the Sun.

Sovereign Moonstone WHOSO LOVETH AND HOLDETH THIS, SO SHALL HE SOVEREIGN BE

The Snarling Stones Arise from Sleep

Your breath burns as you whisper into the moonstone, and the entire ground starts shaking - the Bazaar is awakening. You rush outside, to stand atop the Bazaar's tallest spire, as the lumbering juggernaut starts to finally move. The horrible screeches of the awakening Stone Pigs rises to a fast crescendo, and you barely have enough time to scream one last time, as the false-stars of the roof quickly move out of the way.

Your ascent is terrifyingly fast. The roof caves outwards, the gravity of the Messenger's movement forcing it out of the way, the laws engraved in its obsidian skin distorting space around it in impossible ways. The heavy rock of the roof pulls away like taffy, the sound of the ascent whistling past your ears before you can fully process each moment of what is going on.

And then, you feel it, the warmth upon your fur, the light that peeks past your closed eyelids, the wind that grows slowly less familiar by the second. When you open your eyes, it is not the darkness of the Neath that you see, it is not the fog of the Unterzee, or the clouds created by Storm, or the light of the south. No, this is the Sun, in its full and unbridled glory, shining down upon you and upon the carapace of the Bazaar. As you leave the Earth's atmosphere and rise ever higher, there will be no night to shield your eyes from its light.

There are seven days left.

ASCEND NOW TO YOUR PLACE IN THE SUN
Onward, toward Judgement.