Well, after today’s announcement I think we can say that Michael Bacon hit the nail right on the head with his theory about the Fourth City!
my deepest respects to you, good sir!
Thanks, folks, I really appreciate all the nice comments.
New question that I’m chasing down. It would completely screw up most second city theories, but can anyone think of clues or have other information that would support or contradict a First City in early Imperial China? (~300 BCE) There’s a few niceties about it – [color=#ffffff]the Silk Road connections, the terra cotta soldiers, the relative normality of homosexual relations at court,[/color] and the first emperor Qin Shi Huang’s obsession with finding an elixir of immortality, but so far I haven’t been able to put anything coherent together. There are certainly cedars in western China, but nothing I’ve found that involves eye relics or eye temples, so this could be the complete wrong tree. I just got tired of banging my head against one vaguely promising Bronze Age near eastern city after another.
One problem with that particular theory: what you learn in Heart’s Desire does not support the idea that the first city was in Imperial China, as one of the characters ([color=#ffffff]The Manager of the Royal Bethlehem hotel[/color]) says of his lover, “[color=#ffffff]He was so beautiful, you know. I’d never seen his like. Nobody had. He’d come so far from the East. With such wonderful things! We’d never seen silk before.[/color]” Furthermore, you are told a story of travel upon meeting the King with a Hundred Hearts, who summarizes it by saying “[color=#ffffff]So, you’ve seen my story. China and then the Crossroads Shaded by Cedars[/color].” Which implies that the two are very distant from each other.
Sorry to burst your bubble, but if anyone can figure out what’s missing, it’s you.
That’s extraordinarily helpful, actually, as it solidifies the King with a Hundred Hearts as being [color=#ffffff]Chinese[/color], and it not being out of the question that the clay men are actually based on the [color=#ffffff]terra cotta soldiers[/color]. (And apologies if someone posted that earlier – I can’t keep them all straight.)
The key bit that stands out for me continues to be the Silk Road, which didn’t really pick up in force until near the beginning of the common era. So two thoughts here, and then I’m going to quit looking at this stuff for a bit…
One is that the journey of Zhang Qian (Zhang Qian - Wikipedia), which basically led to the opening of the Silk Road, matches up with some of the stories of the clay men and the maps on the temple walls. This is hugely problematic for lots of theories, particularly Amarna and Nagar, because it puts the First City’s fall around 130 BCE or so. It’s even worse for the Dutchess being one of the Pharaoh’s daughters, because one presumes there’s a gap between the First and Second Cities falling, and one quickly runs out of Egyptian Pharaohs!
UNLESS… the Second City had a pharaoh, but wasn’t Egyptian at all! How is that possible? The Kushitic kingdom of Meroe (Meroë - Wikipedia) called its rulers Pharaohs as well (with good reason, considering that Kush had conquered Egypt and been Pharaohs there for a few centuries), built pyramids, and repelled the nosy invaders that led to the native Egyptian pharaohs’ downfall. Big problem – nobody has transcribed their script, so if there’s a love story here, Failbetter likely just invented it. (Or that it exists, but isn’t in Wikipedia, but we all know that’s just nonsense… ;) One nice bit there is that Meroe’s fall was contemporaneous with the introduction of Christianity ([color=#ffffff]and presumably de-emphasized the old gods[/color]). Kush was noted for its powerful female rulers (the Candaces) and matriarchal dynastic system.
And the one thing this does revive is the “every 500 years” theory, somehow that the Masters deal for a 500 year lease of sorts. 130 BCE (Zhang Qian, the King with a Hundred Hearts?) - 360 CE (Meroe?) - 860 CE (Chichen Itza or Calakmul?) - 1360 (Karakorum) - 1860 (London). That’s seriously far afield, and just wild speculation.
Yep, that’s official now!
Just an interesting 4th city tidbit I found today in the new content:
‘Look, we all know what’s coming. We have to pick a side, or it’ll be the Fourth City all over again. Nobody benefits from that. You’ve not seen the Gracious Widow’s face, have you? Well, there you are, then.’
[quote=BaronElectric]Just an interesting 4th city tidbit I found today in the new content:
‘Look, we all know what’s coming. We have to pick a side, or it’ll be the Fourth City all over again. Nobody benefits from that. You’ve not seen the Gracious Widow’s face, have you? Well, there you are, then.’[/quote]
Also, we learned why the Fourth City was destroyed.
Found some information whilst dreaming. “She was caught red handed. Crimson alizarin!” Crimson alizarin was found inside Prince Tuts tomb. He was married to Ankhesenamun
the third of six daughters of the Pharaoh Akhenaten. So I think this gives us a time frame for the Second city.
"The strutting peacock falters
‘You have noticed my buttons, then. How could you not?’ The Manager struts up the street for a few paces, like a gilded peacock. ‘They were made for me by… someone who was once very special to me.’ The Manager’s eyes darken, and for a moment he’s just an ancient olive-skinned man in a ridiculous frock coat. He scurries back towards his Hotel, elbowing pedestrians out of his way and dropping most of the brass you gave him in his wake."
Does the Manager’s lover have any connection to hell?
[quote=Sir Frederick Tanah-Chook]It is common knowledge that London is the Fifth City to Fall and join the Bazaar. Prelapsarian study has long been one of the great pursuits of mystery-minded Netheans - and rather less immediately risky than pursuits into celestial languages or the names of ruminated gentlemen. I suggest that here, as well as anywhere, would be a good place to collate evidence, compare notes, and try to piece together which cities have previously graced the Neath, and why. I believe that our ever-delightful hostess, the Duchess, is something of an expert on this subject. It would of course be the very soul of rudeness to make any demands of her knowledge - though perhaps a cat might give me a nudge if I drop any particularly howling bricks!
To begin with the barest facts: London, capital of the British Empire, fell ‘three decades’ before 1889. The lives of the Empress and/or her Consort were somehow tied to this exchange of premises. London retains much of its structure of government - Parliament still stands and the bureaucratic machine rolls on. The Masters exert a great deal of control over London’s society and structure, and many names are gradually being lost… but I digress. Many alive remember the Fall and can recount their experiences.
The Fourth City is largely intact as the Forgotten Quarter, and, while it is remote and sometimes dangerous, its outskirts are frequently visited by archaeologists, students and sightseers. Artefacts from the Fourth City include pottery, statuary, fragments of text and even intact food and drink. All of these strongly suggest that the city belonged to the Mongolian Empire - an expansionistic, legalistic, commercial entity not unlike Britain, and famous for its horsemanship. Scattered records and modern esoteric texts suggest that the Fourth City fell during a period of siege and imminent battle. The Forgotten Quarter houses at its heart a palace and a magnificent silver fountain. One of the Mongol capitals, Karakorum, was built around a palace and a silver fountain, and was invaded by the Ming Empire in the fourteenth century, approximately five hundred years before the Fall of London.
This much, we may say, is moderately obvious. The earlier cities are a trickier parcel of plums, and I shall retreat for now to re-order my notes and allow others to continue, contradict and correct (I have no doubt you’ve far better ideas than I!)[/quote]
I just realized something.
FBG’s Kickstarter has, effectively, revealed that Karakorum was the Fourth City.
We all know that London is the Fifth City.
Both cities were the capitals of empires.
It just dawned on me…what if each of the Fallen Cities was not just a great city, but the capital of an empire? That might narrow down the possibilities a bit.
Apologies in advance if I’ve been the slow student in the class and that was obvious to everybody else!
Maybe it does help. The Epic of Gilgamesh goes on a length about the relationship between Gilgamesh and Enkidu and how Gilgamesh mourns Enkidu’s death. Gilgamesh was King of Uruk, the ancient Sumerian city (both in the Epic and, it’s believed, in reality). Perhaps Uruk is the First City. I don’t know if it has any connections with cedars, though.
It’s damn close to being the First City in reality - certainly one of the first. There’s evidence of human societies long before Uruk - including, from memory, examples of long-distance trade and ceremonial burial going back possibly as long as sixty thousand years, in my own country - but Uruk’s near as dammit where urban civilisation began.
It may be possible that one of the more newly discovered ancient cities–like Mohenjo Daro?–is older, but Uruk is, as you say, certainly one of the oldest. However, I’m having trouble with locating cedars there. Lebanon, Jordan, both have cedars even now, and Irag (which is where the location of what was Uruk falls) has, or had, trees (many of Iraq’s forests have been cut or squandered). But I’m seeing no indication that cedars grow or grew in Irag. Gilgamesh had to journey to reach the Cedar Forest, and that would fit the location of Uruk all right, but it gives us a problem since the First City is supposed to have, or be associated with, the “Crossroads Shaded by Cedars.”
[quote=Michael Bacon]FOURTH CITY
Clues:
- Correspondance dreams give you “the language of Xanadu,” there’s a fountain shaped like a tree in the Forgotten Quarter, it was filled with temples with lanterns and jade, and in the last days before its Fall people were huddled against some siege.
- There’s a whole host of “Oriental connections” surrounding one Gracious Widow who seems to be involved in a lot of covert smuggling and dealing
- I haven’t come across any specifics about life of the Gracious Widow, but Shadowy is my weakest stat, which locks me out of a lot of stuff, I think. The closest is the story of the urchin adopted by the Gracious Widow, showing some strong maternal instincts.
Historical facts and myths:
- Karakorum, which I think clues in the game conclusively point to as the Fourth City (“the language of Xanadu” would also have been the language of Karakorum), fell in 1380 under a vicious counterattack by the second Ming Emperor Hongwe (Uskhal Khan Tögüs Temür - Wikipedia).
- The most intriguing character I’ve found in the late Mongol period, as far as the game goes, was the Korean second empress of the last great Kahn, Togun Temur, referred to in the all-knowing Wikipedia as the Qi Empress. During the reign of her husband, she constantly maneuvered to install her son, Ayushiridara, as the heir to the Khanate, and was eventually successful. After Togun Temur’s death, she became the Dowager Empress, and Wikipedia leaves us with this tantalizing nugget: " It is possible that she was captured by the Ming Chinese when Mongol royal family was fleeing. According to the myth, she was pregnant when captured by the Ming army. She possibly married Hongwu and gave birth to the Ming Emperor Yongle." (Empress Gi - Wikipedia)
- The Yongle Emperor went on to become one of the most militarily powerful and feared Emperors of the Ming dynasty.
Surmise:
There’s too much that falls into place regarding the Qi Empress for me to ignore. The surmise here is that the Qi Empress, now known as the Gracious Widow, sold Karakorum as it was on the verge of being sacked in return for being able to marry the Hongwu Emperor and place her son on the throne of the Ming Dynasty, along with an endless supply of Hesperidian Cider, one presumes. As with Victoria and Albert, there is the interesting twist that she was Korean, and hence regarded as a foreigner and less deserving of the title, but rose to a position of power nonetheless.[/quote]
I believe you’re quite close on this one. Recent developments in The Affair with the Box point to the Gracious Widow and a new figure referred to as “Yesterday’s King” being the rulers of the Fourth City. The relevant passages follow, please be aware that they contain [color=#ff0000]SPOILERS FOR RECENTLY PUBLISHED CONTENT[/color].
[ul][li]“In the Box”[/li][/ul] . . . And what’s this, in the bottom of the box? A little bundle of letters, tied with a red ribbon.
The script is that of the fourth city, but you can read a few words. These are love letters. What in the Neath?
[ul][li]“Illegal, even for a Master …”[/li][/ul] . . . ‘And Fourth City love letters, you say? That makes no d–ned sense at all. You’d best ask someone who can read them. The Gracious Widow, perhaps. Well, pip pip. I’m back off out to the wilds before one of those crows catches me. Lovely to chat to you.’
[ul][li]“The Widow Remembers”[/li][/ul] The room is swathed in darkness. But not even the Gracious Widow can read a love letter without light. She lights a tiny candle. It illuminates her hand - spotted and clawed with age, frail for one so powerful. You sip your green tea as she reads. Is that a sigh, a tear? The Widow clutches a pendant hanging around her neck - a beautifully fashioned silver leaf - as she reads.
Your cup is empty before the Widow speaks. 'Thank you for these. I had thought them lost forever into the hands of the Masters. They will provide me some comfort. I know a little about your box. And though it is now empty, it is still important.
'You see, few know that the box is empty, so it is still useful as a playing piece. A piece in a game that has been going on across London since this latest Fall. And before that in other places. The Masters play. The devils have once more joined the game. But as players or pieces?
'The Masters of the Bazaar are… not, perhaps as united in their aims as they like to claim. They squabble and war amongst themselves. The box is part of that conflict. It is a thing of Mr Stones, I would guess.
‘I played once. The previous time this game ended, so did my city. I learned that lesson. I will speak no more of it. Speak to Yesterday’s King if you must. But you must leave now. I wish to be alone.’
[ul][li]“Yesterday’s King”[/li][/ul] The favours and time you spent tracking him down don’t matter now. You know where Yesterday’s King is. Like the other relics of the Fourth City, he’s in the Forgotten Quarter.
You find him in the ruins of a temple on the far outskirts of the Quarter, living in a rat-worried lean-to made of decayed bamboo. He’s scrawny and ancient, ruined by time. He throws a rock at your head as you approach, but it doesn’t get halfway to you.
'Go! Go! Oh, you’re not a devil, are you? You look a bit like a devil. You shouldn’t do that, looking like a devil and creeping about around here. Too many devils by half around here. I’m five hundred years old, you know.
'Did the Khan’s daughter send you? That woman ruined me. Promised me the thrones of the world. All I had to do was bring down the Masters of the Bazaar. We had a city and the Neath. How hard could it be? They destroyed us. Razed the city and then went looking for another. London! What a terrible joke. And they forgot about me. Just left me here to rot.
‘But they won’t be laughing long. A devil came here yesterday. And I do mean yesterday, not ten years ago. I’m not that far gone. Nice hat. Yellow rose. One up to his neck in the intrigues of the Masters. Asked me a lot of questions about my little coup. I think he wants to try his hand. Where do you think the Sixth City will be?’
edited by ThirdTerrene on 8/17/2012
Doesn’t the Widow drink Peach Brandy?
If she doesn’t she most certainly should. Even ignoring any mystical or medicinal property, it’s just damn tasty.
The Capering Relicker recertifies your scraps without care or enthusiasm. He barely looks at them as he says ‘I saw the Fall. I raised my jar as the eye temple fell. And they’ve looked for me ever since. Want me to brew more. They’d flip their cloaks if they knew I was here, under their snouts.’ So he was the one that brewed up Hesperidian Cider, but STONE PIGS have snouts… Babylon was destroyed several times in its history, Gilgamesh and the clay man Enkidu were from Ninevah, Tell Birāk and its temple of Eyes was destroyed I think about 3000bc? And as for the capitals of the largest extant empires theory, what about China. Definately Kharakorum is 4th no doubt, 3rd is Mayan 850 ad Caracol, Tikal? pick one…, 2nd definately Aegyptian, probably Alexandria and the earthquake, I like Cleopatra and the deal for Antonys soul/life, good theory about “a deal with the devil” in each city but history does not record names from Kharakorum or many Mayan love stories. (Will research the Mayan angle though). I do not recall seeing a statement that insists on a 500 year timeline earlier than the 3rd city? What, no Byzantia? Constantinople? Also seeing a religious theme of esoteric emergence of Catholisism, Popes, Saints, over the coure of history. Saint Simeon Stylites on his pillar preaching? And I really like the whole Kharakorum, Xanadu?, poetry writen during a laudanum dream connection. All this barely scratches the surface of this intricatly tanled web.Kudos to the FailBetter team!
“They say the Third City was famed for its cuisine, before it Fell. They say that hourglasses made with black sand from the Fourth City take a different time to run through on each turn. They say a lot of things.”
I’m not sure that card’s been quoted yet, in this thread. I don’t recall seeing it. I botched a Walking the Fallen Cities card for that one. I’m profoundly interested in those supposed Fourth City hourglasses…
While Karakorum is more literally ‘the black quarter’, I am seeing the occasional reference on Google to it as ‘the City of Black Sand’.
edited by Ruaidri on 9/18/2012
I’ve got some game text to help revive this thread.
Corpsecage Island:
See what you can dig up
The ruins resemble a long, walled courtyard rather than a building. If you weren’t here to research, you might think to string up a tennis net.
Teasing out the trail
The thin, dusty soil up here puts up little resistance to your digging. Your
finds confirm what the carvings on the walls suggested. Skyglass shards,
perished lumps of indiarubber, a few bones. This court was definitely built
and used by people of the Third City. It’s chilly up here. They must have
wrapped up warm.
Grunting Fen:
Riches beyond dreams
Careful study and application of everything you ever learned while studying the Correspondence brings you a level of understanding. You hope. You’ve lived among the strange inhabitants of Grunting Fen for long enough now - the stones and the mosses are almost comfortable talking to you. Most of it is nonsense, of course - petty grumbles about the effects of the briny zee air or territorial bickering between rocks. But a deep pond comes up with something startling. It claims to remember when the Cantigaster was ‘his real self, before the asp bit and the pact was sealed. That’s why they won’t abide talk of that place, you know. She’s still there, though, isn’t she? Sending him to Parabola when she wants, no doubt. Sometimes the Clay come back here and tell the rest of us these things. Don’t you go thinking we live in the past all the time.’
From Heart’s Desire:
A hundred hands
The Manager takes your proffered key [Stone Tentacle-Key] and holds it to the light. He rubs distractedly at his chin. A tear wells up in his eye. For a moment, his airs leave him, and the fearsome manager is merely an old, olive-skinned man in a ridiculous frock coat. He speaks to the key rather than you. ‘Yes. You’ve been away a long time, haven’t you? A hundred hands and a thousand eyes. And do I smell well water? No matter. I shall have to give you away again. I cannot be trusted with you. Not yet. That would be a weight greater than mountains.’ The Manager solemnly places the key in his shirt pocket, next to his heart.
The strutting peacock falters
‘You have noticed my buttons, then. How could you not?’ The Manager struts up the street for a few paces, like a gilded peacock. ‘They were made for me by… someone who was once very special to me.’ The Manager’s eyes darken, and for a moment he’s just an ancient olive-skinned man in a ridiculous frock coat. He scurries back towards his Hotel, elbowing pedestrians out of his way and dropping most of the brass you gave him in his wake.
The desire of your heart
The Clay Priest presses a cone of incense into a burner and lights it by striking an iron nail against his thumb. He walks towards the low marble lintel of the temple doorway and gestures for you to follow.
The Clay Priest leads you to a broad avenue with a good view of the town and the villa above it. ‘YOU WISH TO PLAY THE MARVELLOUS? YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO COME HERE. THE MASTERS USED TO MAKE PACTS. NOW THEY FAVOUR CHANCE. THE MARVELLOUS IS THEIR GAME. CAN THEY GRANT YOU THE DESIRE OF YOUR HEART?’
'THE MAN YOU KNOW AS THE MANAGER WAS ONCE THE FIRST KING. YOU STAND IN THE STREETS OF THE ONE HE LOVES. POLYTHREME IS ALL AROUND YOU. THE KING WITH A HUNDRED HEARTS. HE HAS SENT MANY PLAYERS AWAY. PERHAPS YOU WILL SPEAK WITH HIM. PERHAPS YOU WILL GAIN WHAT YOU DESIRE. BUT TO SPEAK OF SUCH THINGS PAINS THE KING. THE TOWN WILL SCREAM. THE UNFINISHED WILL COME FORTH. I DON’T EXPECT YOU TO CARE. BUT THIS IS THE TRUTH.
A gift for a king
The Clay Broker leans heavily on his copper staff, which bends under his weight. ‘The Manager sent you, didn’t he? The King doesn’t want to see you. You’ll have to bring a gift. Something ridiculously expensive. Something from the East, perhaps. He likes things that remind him of his travels.’
[Fourth City Airag: Year of the Tortoise x 1]
Making arrangements
The Clay Broker examines the bottle, which wriggles in his grasp. ‘Not bad,’ he says, ‘not bad at all. Three cities too late of course, but I don’t think the King will mind. I wonder if this stuff was about when the King journeyed West?’
‘Well, I’ll look after this little fellow, and make sure it doesn’t get jittery and spoil its contents. I’ll talk to the King. Walk up to the villa tomorrow night, and he’ll be expecting you. And when you’re up there, don’t move anything around. The King’s arrangement is vital. Remember that if you anger him, it will hurt more than just you.’
Come inside
The air around the villa is warm and cedar-scented. You are welcome here. You open the copper gates and step into the formal garden around the villa. You crunch down the white gravel path towards the statues.
There are dozens of statues here. Most are men, but there are a few women, some birds, a horse. A few are beautiful, but many are scarred or pockmarked or otherwise unlovely. None of them are moving.
The voice is human, but there’s nobody here to speak it. It comes from the statues, the walls, the fountains. ‘Welcome to me. I have a good idea why you’re here, but that was such a splendid gift. I drank something like it a long time ago, in a dusty tent. Let me show you a few things, and then we can talk about… business’
Two statues move towards you, an asian woman and a masked warrior in ancient armour. They pick up copper oil lamps and lead you further into the rambling villa. The voice says, ‘What shall we speak about first? My journey? The Masters? The King of the First City? I have a better idea. I’ll show you. Come inside.’
The first time
The villa and its grounds ramble across one side of the island. It’s much bigger than it looks from the town. You can see trees and paths and statues stretching away from you in the lamplight. Their duties done, the two statues return to their posts and stop moving.
The voice again. ‘Walk through me. Tread my memories.’
You take a few steps down a path. These aren’t statues any more. You see a group of travellers in the dress of ancient China, haggling for water at a desert spring. A few more steps and the same group are laughing and eating fruit in an orchard. A few steps more, and one of that group, wounded and desperate, looks down a road at a mud brick town next to a cedar grove. Hot, dusty plains stretch to the horizon.
The traveller must be the King with a Hundred Hearts, back when he was a man. He was certainly handsome - if his memories are to be trusted.
More steps down the path. A priest-king receives the traveller, in a temple painted with eyes. The priest-king’s court are amazed at the traveller, and especially impressed by his silk clothes. The priest-king wears white linen, and many layers of shining copper and brass jewellery. He is unmistakably the Manager of the Royal Bethlehem Hotel.
More steps. The priest-king’s court feasts in the open air, under cedar trees. The priest-king and the traveller are seated together, laughing and kissing.
The path goes into a cave. Now you’re in an underground chamber. A cellar perhaps, or some place of hidden rituals. The traveller writhes and twitches on a stone slab, in some kind of fit. He looks wretchedly thin and haggard. A short step from death. The priest-king weeps over him. Two figures step into the chamber, hunched and garbed in many-petalled black cloaks. Masters of the Bazaar. One carries a clay cup, the other an unlit candle. The one with the cup says, ‘I think we can be of service to each other. Allow me to propose an exchange…’
The King’s word
The King is an animated statue, finer-featured than his Clay progeny, and made from marble. He motions you to sit with him on a pile of cushions. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any refreshments to offer you,’ he says. ‘My company will have to suffice.’
‘So, you’ve seen my story. China and then the Crossroads Shaded by Cedars. And then the Masters of the Bazaar. My lover saved me, in a manner of speaking. My fits would have killed me, so he bargained that we should both endure the ages, in return for his city. But the Bazaar isn’t kind. Look what it did to me. The Masters took a diamond from the great glowing mountain in the South and gave it to me for a heart. They made me like this.’
'I no longer love him. How could I, after what he had done to me? But his love abides, over the sea in London. I am his heart’s desire. I will allow him to play the Marvellous, on one condition.
‘The diamond that is my heart shattered long ago. A speck of diamond dust is in each of my children. But a shard was stolen from me. Taken to London. A place called… Spite.’ He pronounces the word oddly, as one unfamiliar with those dim streets. ‘I would have you return it to me. Its absence is like the fangs of a tiger. Bring it to me, and you shall have your player. But promise me you won’t let him win. I couldn’t bear it.’
The King with a Hundred Hearts stands. ‘Take this. A memento of our meeting. It’s a later casting, I’m afraid, but so few of the originals are left. And thank you again for your gift and your company.’ Down below you, the town of Polythreme weeps and screams for its king.
[gain First City Coins]
I like the idea of The Epic of Gilgamesh being a part of the First City, but I have nothing to back it up. It is possible that the FBG writers are creating the history that the epic could have been based on (Enkidu was a traveler from the East but legend turned him into a beast man). No matter where the first city is located, it’s going to be old, so the odds of a prominent love story from that time still being known are pretty low I’d think.
Here’s something I’ve always been curious about:
A cheery gentleman
In the street, you pass a tall, cheerful man with a brisk manner, a stovepipe hat and a row of bright brass buttons down the front of his coat. He winks familiarly as you pass and spreads his hands: eight fingers.
When I read this, my first thought is eight fingers and two thumbs, but do you think it actually means the Manager is missing two fingers? Might not be significant, but I thought I’d throw it out there.
And a question about the Duchess. Is there somewhere that implies or outright states that the Cantigastor is her husband/lover? Could he possibly be her father?