Here we are, sirrah, The Lady’s Ward.
Notice the horrible lack of taste to the air here, the sensation of always being watched, the razorvine carefully grown around the tops of all these high walls. All sure signs there’s rich folk about!
This part of the city is all fortified estates and big empty streets, but don’t let that fool you. There’s still plenty goes on that a Clueless basher wouldn’t know about.
First of all, steer clear of the Park. If the powers that be around here off someone, they throw the body over the edge of the city into the infinite void. If they want to make them hurt, they throw them onto the lawns in the Park.
No plants like growing in Sigil except razorvine, sirrah. It’s not a nice place to find oneself tangled up, and it’s murder to get untangled, if you catch my drift.
There’s a bandstand though, if that’s your thing.
Mind out for that sedan chair, sirrah.
Beggin’ your pardon, your lordship, they’s new to the city.
Look, sirrah, this place runs on manners. Doff the cap to your ‘betters’, don’t get in the way of the sedans, and avoid the running messengers, and you’ll be fine. High-ups around here have ways of making your life unpleasant no matter where in the city you might go.
Maybe we should get off the main avenues and use what they call the Servants’ Staircase around here.
I don’t know if you’ve heard of the Infinite Staircase, sirrah. Find an entrance to it and climb or descend, or both, and end up exactly where you want to go, anywhere in the Planes… give or take.
Well around here, the servants know how to get anywhere and everywhere quickly, toot sweet, just by knowing the different back alleys and smaller byways that cut back and forth across the ward.
I don’t know them well personally, but I had an uncle who worked as a messenger boy, until ‘the accident’. He could drop a note from one end of the ward to the other before the ink had dried, they said.
Now look here, squire, those’re the tents of the Rakshasa’s Court. A bit like the well-to-do’s with their mansions, the Rakshasa and his retinue travel around the ward and camp in the different squares. There’s some kind of system to it, but I’m none the wiser. Sometimes they disappears entirely, but they’re back before long.
Don’t let the lack of a high fence and sharp spikes fool you, you’d have to be a barmy to try and wander in there uninvited.
That just about wraps up the tour, sirrah. We’re almost back at the Markets here. That store over yonder might be worth your time. Figwilliams’ Friperie is where a lot of the Lords and Ladies of this ward happen to get rid of their unwanted rags. Those that the servants don’t manage to make off with anyway.
Good for a fine cape or two, I hear, but still plenty pricey.
That’s all I have for you, unless you drop me another day’s jink, and I show you my secret addition to the tour?
Yes, sounds good? Wonderful! Let’s go take a gander at some of Undersigil then, shall we?
The noble classes of Sigil are just like everywhere else, ignorant of the little people that make their lives so light, fanciful and carefree. The difference is that the folk they don’t have to think about might not even be in Sigil, or even in the Planes. Plenty of the lords and ladies of Sigil maintain their lifestyles with the help of jink flowing in from the Primes.
As strange as the Planes are, there’s plenty of oddity on display among the eccentric elite of Sigil.
Take, for instance, Lord Thimbles. An Eladrin knight of some renown, Thimbles retired to Sigil after a long and illustrious career. Indeed, bards all over the Planes still sing the song of Thimbles and the Bimble Dragon. But in his old age, Thimbles seeks to rekindle his youth (or else he’s gone barmy).
He can most often be seen in full armour, riding along on a sedan carried by apologetic servants, bellowing ‘tally-ho!’ and attempting to slay anything half-resembling a lizard with a (happily blunted) lance.
This is allowed to carry one simply because he is Lord Thimbles, and because his servants dole out the jink freely in repairs, and keep his lordship contained in a small area of the Lady’s Ward.
Who knows what kind of misadventures he might have if he wasn’t kept safe?