Ghosts of Our Past, the DVD extras.

[seanan_mcguire]

I am trying A New Thing. 

Specifically, I am trying to write “DVD extras” for episode one of the Murders at Karlov Manor story, “Ghost of Our Past.”  This story is copyright Wizards of the Coast, although it was written by me, and can be found in its entirety here: https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/magic-story/episode-1-ghosts-of-our-past

Please click the link, even if the story isn’t relevant to you.  Click-throughs are how Wizards knows that Story matters.

So what is this?  This is little excerpts of the story, with my thoughts on them, because, IDK, I thought it was funny.  I’ve also tried to include context for people new to Magic Story, to help you understand what the hell is going on.  If people like it, I may continue.  If you don’t care about Magic Story, skip on over.

And here we go!

It’s always exciting to get approached by Wizards of the Coast to write for Magic Story.  I love the team I get to work with, and as a daughter of the fanfic mines, I love feeling like I’m part of something bigger than myself.  Whether it’s a side story or a main story, the request is thrilling.  So when I was asked to write the main story for Murders at Karlov Manor, I was delighted to agree.  I was even more delighted when I learned that this would be a) a murder mystery, and b) the first ten-episode main story.

The sky over Karlov Manor danced with a dizzying array of colors, brought to life by shimmering cascades of magic. The Orzhov had purchased every Izzet pyrowork in the Tenth District, creating a profligate display of power and plenty.

Ravnica is one of the most fleshed-out and beloved Magic settings, with more affectionate fans than even Dominaria, Magic’s original setting.  So writing anything set here was going to require me to acknowledge the Plane’s character as quickly as possible.  Obviously, we’re spending a lot of time with the Orzhov Syndicate in a story that’s set in the home of one of their higher-ups, and if you want fireworks, well, you go to the Izzet League, the red-blue Guild of blowing stuff up real good.  As a Magic player, I’m mostly an Izzet girl these days.  Getting both Guilds into the first two sentences mattered to me.

Ravnica is safe now: we do not need to worry and conserve for wartime. It was a calculated expenditure, and every burst of colors or illusionary blossoms falling from the sky reminded the people living in the shadow of the Orzhov Syndicate who their saviors were.

This establishes both that we’re post-Phyrexian Invasion, without coming out and stating it, and that the Guilds are claiming the credit for the Plane’s survival.  That’s important.

A few servers in toned-down versions of the more elaborate uniforms worn by those working the interior walked back and forth with trays of equally less elaborate starters, sharing the rare largess of the guild with the less fortunate.

The Orzhov Syndicate is the black-white Guild of finance and usury.  They believe that all money belongs to them, and they want you in their debt as much as possible.  Having them giving things away, even it’s if only cheap appetizers, establishes quickly what an unusual situation this is.

Teysa, newest head of the Syndicate, stood on the manor’s highest balcony, watching the gathering throng and sipping from a glass of strong coffee laced with bumbat.

Last time we saw Teysa Karlov, she was Kaya’s second-in-command, not the head of the Guild.  So this is a change in her station, and quickly establishing that she’s comfortable in her new position.  Bumbat is a Ravnican drink, and of course we want to include as many Ravnican details as possible.

Soundless as ever, Kaya stepped up next to her, stopping when she reached the rail.

I was overjoyed when I found out I got to write Kaya again.  She was part of the strike team in Phyrexia: All Will Be One, and I enjoyed her immensely.  More, picking her up again so soon gave me a sense of continuity, and I didn’t have to cast around for her character.

Her glance downward was more calculating than Teysa’s proprietary appraisal: where Teysa looked like she was measuring the value of the people below them, Kaya looked like she was assessing how long it would take them all to escape should things go wrong.

And this is why Kaya was never going to be the forever-leader of the Syndicate.  Her focus is in the wrong places.

Teysa slanted her a sidelong glance, eyes raking along the length of the barely presentable Planeswalker’s form.

Kaya is still a Planeswalker, unlike so many others.  Again, this was important to establish quickly, and didn’t necessarily need to be stated aloud.

“But you are a miserly host,” Kaya protested without rancor. “Or at least a calculated one. Every zib you spend on this gala will come back to you a golden zino, or you’re not the person who outmaneuvered me and seized the reins while my back was turned.”

Ravnican currency.  And how Teysa took control.

Teysa smiled. “I missed you. You’ve always seen me so clearly.”

“Clarity gets easier with distance.”

“Yes, and you were distant when the invasion came to Ravnica.” Teysa’s smile sharpened like the knife it was. “You owe me this night, Kaya. No matter how far you’ve traveled, you’re Orzhov enough to pay your debts. When Ravnica needed you, you weren’t here.”

Ah, the crux of Kaya’s presence is revealed: she wasn’t on Ravnica when the Invasion arrived, and because the locals consider her one of their own, this is a problem.  She’s being blamed for it in a way unfamiliar Planeswalkers aren’t.  But that means she may also find a bit of forgiveness among the current anti-Planeswalker sentiment.  Always easier to forgive your own.

“If I’d been here instead of defending the Multiverse, neither of us would be here now!” snapped Kaya. “Don’t you dare act like I stopped caring about Ravnica because I couldn’t be here. I was”—her voice faltered, turning thick in her throat, and she glanced down at her feet—”I was doing my best.”

The Strike Team failed.

“Yes, and tonight, you do your best for me,” said Teysa. “The Agency has helped us to control and contain the chaos that followed the … unpleasantness. Without them, we’d have far more than two useless guilds on our hands. All ten might have been gutted by the invaders, and then what would have become of our plane? So tonight, you smile when I say smile, and you bow when I say bow, and you remember your debts to the Orzhov, if you don’t want to remember your debts to me.”

So we’ve broken two Guilds in the Invasion, but which two?  And who is this mysterious ‘Agency’ that Teysa’s talking about?  Let’s see if we can find out.

“If you faint because you’re too stubborn to eat, your debts remain unpaid,” said Teysa. “And even if you’re too stubborn to enjoy the evening, I oversaw the menu, and I refuse to miss the strudel.” She walked past Kaya to the door, leaning heavily on her walking cane. Clearly expecting obedience, she didn’t look back.

Teysa has a bad leg, and her disability has always been a key part of her character.  As someone who walks with a cane, it was important to me that we mention her disability quickly and without any judgement—it’s part of who she is, and that’s all that matters.  Also, any strudel Teysa chose for her table would be amazing.

Neither of them gave Kaya a second glance, even as she dropped her symbolic coin into the plate held by the one on the left.

The Orzhov charges their members for everything, from using a door to using the bathroom.  Most of the party is free, but Teysa and Kaya were talking in an off-limits area, and of course Kaya is expected to pay if she wants to leave.

Teysa nodded to each as she passed, her small, cool smile never wavering. Kaya knew that smile. Teysa called it “number twenty-four: you are honored by my attentions.”

Teysa is calculating in all things, even her affection.

Not every guild prized social acumen the way the Orzhov or Simic did, but even the Izzet and Gruul had their public speakers, and those had been the members chosen to represent them at what was clearly being treated as the social event of the season.

More Guilds.  The Simic are the blue-green Guild of science and experimentation, while the Gruul are the red-green Guild of personal freedom and big smashy monsters.

Kaya was abstractly surprised not to see Ral Zarek, who she would have expected to find representing his guild. Perhaps it was considered unfashionable to invite a Planeswalker, unless you had them properly leashed.

Ral is the current head of the Izzet Syndicate, and a red-blue Planeswalker who specializes in lightning magic and, yes, big explosions.  Much like Teysa, Wizards had a guest list of people they wanted at the party, and it was a long one.  I wasn’t really cramming people in who didn’t need to be there, I didn’t have the word count for it.

Through it all, Teysa guided Kaya, pulling her effortlessly through the tiers of society until she reached the innermost ring. It had formed around the great form of Ezrim, the massive archon having occupied the center of the courtyard, where he was apparently deep in conversation with Lavinia, current head of the Azorius Senate.

The Azorius are the blue-white Guild of law and government—which is not, oddly enough, the cops.  And an archon is a sort of mounted knight, larger than human-size, never seen without their steed.  The inclusion of Ezrim meant I got to quiz my story leads on archon biology, which was very satisfying for me, and somewhat frazzling for them.

Kaya seized the opportunity to duck away, moving toward a server with a small tray of bacon-wrapped asparagus spears and neatly plucking one from the assortment. The server, who wore Orzhov colors, looked at her with awe and a small measure of fear.

“You’re her,” he said. “Our former leader. The Planeswalker.”

Planeswalkers are terrifying, now that people know they exist.

Kaya didn’t resist as Teysa pulled her toward Tolsimir and Aurelia, who were apparently deep in a conversation about the absent Dimir. Judith stood nearby, shamelessly eavesdropping as she sipped from a flute of something pale and sparkling, a cruelly amused spark in her eyes. She was dressed in black and red, as always, standing out sharply against the more elegantly attired crowd.

More Ravnican notables.  Tolsimir represents the Selesnya Conclave, the green-white Guild of growth and nature.  He’s not their guild leader, but their actual guild leader isn’t very mobile, so he stands in.  Aurelia is the head of the Boros Legion, the red-white Guild of authority and peacekeeping—think the Ravnican police.  And Judith is a high-ranking member of the Cult of Rakdos, the red-black Guild of hedonism and performance.

As Teysa approached, Tolsimir was saying sharply to Aurelia, “It’s naive to think that Lazav is dead. That man will outlive us all. I don’t know what he’s planning, but he’s planning something. Teysa, tell her Lazav isn’t dead.”

Lazav is (or was?) the guild leader of House Dimir, the Guild of shadowy deals, conspiracies, and assassinations.  He’s a shapeshifter, and so determining his death borders on impossible.  But it seems Dimir may be one of the two “useless guilds” Teysa referred to earlier.

“As a fellow guild leader, I would be overstepping to attempt to summon his spirit without better cause than my own curiosity,” said Teysa smoothly. “I can, however, confirm that I haven’t seen him among the departed, although it’s been very busy, with all the spirits of the recently dead trying to settle their affairs. So few of them can afford the service.”

Like most Orzhov, Teysa can speak to and command ghosts.  By saying she hasn’t summoned Lazav’s spirit because of their equal social positions, she’s excusing herself from the argument of whether or not he’s dead, and possibly implying that the Dimir helped her seize control of her Guild.

“Yes, the risk of bankruptcy is plainly very near indeed.” She flicked a hand in a dismissive gesture, brushing the topic aside as she inserted herself into the discussion. “But I see you’ve brought your trophy of the evening. Hello, Kaya. How have you been? Started any invasions recently? Were you aware that whenever you’re in the city, all the guilds activate our crisis management divisions?”

Judith is a very classic mean girl.  If she didn’t always wear red and black, she’d look amazing in pink.  Get in, loser.  We’re going slaughtering.

“Ravnicans died,” said Judith, levity gone.

Judith is called “the Scourge Diva,” and people get hurt in her performances.  She’s being a little hypocritical here.

“So did Planeswalkers,” said Kaya. “I lost friends in that fight, same as you did. Not only to death, either. Ravnica doesn’t grieve alone.”

Planeswalkers died during the Phyrexian Invasion—Lukka, Tamiyo (although it’s an exaggeration to call Lukka a “friend”).  More Planeswalkers were compleated, and were lost in a different sense.  Kaya is basically dealing with a whopping serving of survivor’s guilt and PTSD right now, and is not taking Judith’s shit.  Nor should she!

“You do keep things ticking away by the numbers,” said Tomik, appearing at Teysa’s other elbow.

Judith’s smile returned, more assured now. “Oh, look,” she said. “Three leaders of the Syndicate in a line. Which one do you suppose balances the books best? Or—I’m sorry, Tomik. Is it Izzet now, for you?”

“My husband’s guild is not my own,” said Tomik stiffly. “Teysa, we’re needed on the grand balcony.”

Tomik was leader of the Orzhov before Kaya was.  His husband, Ral, is the aforementioned leader of the Izzet.  Judith is being incredibly insulting with her insinuations here, and is lucky neither Kaya nor Tomik didn’t deck her.  Teysa doesn’t deck people.  Teysa quietly, pleasantly bankrupts them.

Tomik, at least, seemed to understand Kaya’s discomfort: how could he not, when Ral was one of those who grieved the losses Ravnica would never know, the lives lost, the sparks extinguished, all to feed Phyrexia’s endless hunger?

Being married to a Planeswalker has left Tomik a little more understanding of Kaya’s situation than most people.

Teysa began to climb the stairs, leaning more heavily on her cane. Tomik stepped back, unable to assist his superior without it looking like a comment on her fitness, even as her hand on Kaya’s shoulder gripped tighter, using the other woman for stability as much as anything else. Kaya glanced at her.

“Is it hurting you?”

“No,” said Teysa. “Stairs just grow more challenging as I get older. Nothing worth fretting about. Here!”

Many mobility impairments get more severe with age.  Teysa is completely competent and able to perform her duties, but stairs are becoming more and more of a challenge.

The applause died down. Kaya stepped back. Teysa smiled at the courtyard once more. “But perhaps even more importantly, tonight we honor the members of the Ravnican Agency of Magicological Investigations.”

This is a new organization, formed during the Invasion, and still a relative mystery to readers both old and new.  You have as much information right now as anybody else.

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Teysa, who had acquired a flute of kasarda from a passing server, offered him a smirking salute, taking the ribbing with good spirits.

Karsada is another Ravnican beverage, and something to be savored.

“Many of you were present last month, when a Gruul god broke loose of guild control and wreaked havoc across the Ninth District. Anzrag could have continued his rampage for days, had we been reliant on the guilds for immediate support. But the quick thinking and actions of Investigator Kellan and his team brought the rampage to a halt, and the god has been properly contained within an evidence capsule. Kellan, please approach.”

Kellan is a relatively new character, first introduced in the Wilds of Eldraine and now popping up all over the place, thanks to the Omenpaths.  The half-fae son of the Planeswalker Oko, he has a gift for getting into trouble—and, apparently, for apprehending Gruul gods, which is no small feat.  He’s growing up quickly, our Kellan!

“Ral—”

“Ral wasn’t on New Phyrexia. Ral didn’t see how bad it was going to be. Jace …” She shuddered, shaking her head. “For weeks, I saw him every time I closed my eyes. He fought as hard as he could, but he lost. And because of that, we all lost.”

Jace fell to Phyrexia.  Kaya had to watch.  Jace Beleran was the living Guildpact of Ravnica for a time, and is well-known to all Ravnican notables.

Halfway down the stairs, she passed Kellan, now smiling uncertainly at Zegana and Vannifar as they fixed him with too-sharp eyes, taking his measure. They looked ruffled and unhappy, as if he had interrupted something by coming too close to them.

Kaya knew the pair had been on poor terms since Vannifar unseated her predecessor. Seeing them here together was odd.

Zegana was the former head of the Simic, and has been replaced by Vannifar.  Vannifar is classified as an “elf ooze,” having self-mutated until she’s become the first known elf-jellyfish hybrid in the Multiverse.

“Are you quite sure you’re not that detective Proft everyone’s been talking about?” Zegana asked.

Now that’s a new name…

Kellan took her arm with visible relief, and the pair descended to ground level, where—somehow, impossibly—Teysa was waiting next to the buffet, her attention fixed on the gaudily dressed goblin as intently as a cat might fixate on a bird.

“—payment,” she was saying, as the pair approached.

The goblin looked nervous. “I acquired my invitation through legitimate means.”

Krenko is a well-known figure on Ravnica, and a legitimate business goblin.  Teysa is probably just being mean.  She’s good at that.

She would have said more, but a ruckus broke out above them, catching everyone’s attention. On the balcony, Ezrim watched impassively as three members of Teysa’s security dragged away a shouting centaur dressed in the colors of the Gruul Clans. The centaur was clearly enraged, struggling to break free.

Ever try to arm-wrestle a centaur?  I just enjoy the image of this little fight.

Kaya turned away from the scene, focusing on a distressed Kellan. “Nothing ever really changes, does it?” she asked. “It puts on a new coat and calls itself remade, but it’s all the same under the surface.”

Ravnica Remastered comes out next week.  I am very funny.

The sky was beautiful, although the ongoing fireworks blocked the stars. She would have liked to see the stars. She had always liked the Ravnican stars. She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes.

As both a writer of the lore and a reader of the lore, I like thinking about how different things often are for Planeswalkers.  Different constellations, different ways of doing things, different honey and different butterflies.  They don’t just travel between countries: they travel between worlds, and they’re always a little out of place.  I dunno.  It’s just something I enjoy focusing on.

Unlike some of the people she cared about, her spark still burned as bright as it ever had and would reach across the Blind Eternities to carry her wherever she wanted to go.

Because she didn’t lose her spark in the aftermath of the Invasion, Kaya is still able to Planeswalk at will, and cross the Blind Eternities with a thought.

She could return to Kaldheim, see how Tyvar was adjusting to his new limitations, or head for Dominaria, or Innistrad, or Alara—there were no limits. She didn’t have to stay here.

Pretty sure there was a drinking game centering on how long it would take me to mention Tyvar in this story.  He’s not here, which is a pity.  He would have enjoyed the party, and driven Teysa up a tree by refusing to put on a shirt.

She felt herself begin to reach, desire becoming reality, and stopped, opening her eyes and digging her heels into the balcony. Teysa might make her point in the worst possible ways, but she was also right: when Ravnica needed her most, Kaya had allowed her own sense of what mattered to take her away. If she’d stayed, she might have been able to shape the Orzhov into more of a force for good. If she’d refused her position on the strike team so someone else could hold it, maybe they would have been successful. There was no way of knowing, but if she’d stayed here, she might have changed everything.

Kaya has a lot of guilt to deal with, and a lot of it centers on not stopping the Invasion.  Really, I don’t think Kaya was the weak point on the Strike Team, like, at all.  There were a lot of better choices that could have been made.  She did her part efficiently, effectively, and well.  She just wasn’t enough to bring them to victory.

“I understand. This is a lot to deal with, even for me, and I know the invasion hurt you as much as it hurt us, but I’m glad I found you.” Teysa took a deep, oddly unsteady breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something important. And I needed to catch you alone.”

“We were alone before.”

“Not really.” Teysa waved a hand. “Before the gala began, there were people lurking to make sure I didn’t need anything. We needed to be alone.”

“All right. What is it?”

Teysa has a secret.  Wonder what it is?

Teysa started to reply as a scream rang out from inside the manor, drowning out her words and shattering the moment.

Kaya didn’t pause to think before running toward the sound. This time, if Ravnica needed her, she wouldn’t let them down.

Poor Kaya.  Bruised and exhausted, but still a hero.  I’m not sure she ever won’t be.