The Masters of the Bazaar

Though Fallen London is home to many powerful factions and individuals, none possess the same mystery or air of authority as the Masters. Heavily cloaked and highly enigmatic, these nine individuals call themselves "Mr." but none can say if they are actually human. In fact, it is generally whispered that they are in fact ..{REDACTED}.. One might assume, given their power and influence, that the Masters are a cohesive and united group that works together to consolidate their power. Rumors and whispers suggest otherwise, however, and describing various disagreements and conflicts spanning generations. If the mutterings about their age can be believed, this would make sense: thousands of years means thousands of small disputes and grudges, meaning perhaps.....
WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE PREVIOUS UNLICENSED PUBLICATION. PLEASE ENJOY THE FOLLOWING TRUE AND ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF THE GREAT AND BENEVOLANT MASTERS
~The Ministry of Public Decency
The wise and virtuous Masters are loyal advisors to the Queen and the throne; in her absence, they continue to uphold the law and maintain order in our great city. Their most important task is overseeing London's formidable economy, the likes of which the Undersea has never seen, with each Master responsible for specific sectors of trade such as weapons, books or gemstones. Though a few Masters can be found about the city, most reside within the Echo Bazaar. It is from within the Bazaar's reaching spires and wondrous arches that they shape the fate of the city, guiding it forward to a prosperous future. Without such sacrifice, London would have surely perished many years ago.

Mr. Fires

The imposing and impetuous Mr. Fires presides over the trades of coal, candles and ships (both nautical and aeronautical). Many of the East End factories fall under its governance, where it keeps a strong grip over the rebellious and unreasonable unions. These union terrorists, seeking to destabilize the order and bring chaos to our great city's economy, often foment riots and strikes on the northern side of the Stolen River. Though Mr. Fires has been forced to employ heavy handed and public measures to suppress and disperse such unlawful gatherings, it has always done so with a heavy heart. It must be made clear, after all, that protests, labor strikes and revolutionary activity shall not be tolerated. These efforts are generally overseen by the upstanding Poor Edward, Mr. Fires' right hand man, and carried out by the Neddy Men, its private security force. Those fortunate enough to spot Mr. Fires traveling about the city in its chariot are advised to step out of the street as it passes; the steeds which draw it are notoriously ill-tempered.

Mr. Apples/Mr. Hearts

Mr. Apples and Mr. Hearts: a darkly cheery Master with two names who oversees trade in food, wood and immortality. Mr. Hearts is the proprietor of the extravagant and exotic Labyrinth of Tigers, an emporium and zoo (of sorts) which lies in the north-west of Fallen London. As one might have read in the broadsheets about the city, be wary when visiting butchers or meat vendors: only purchase from those licensed by Mr. Hearts. Any such establishments operating without a license should be reported to your local constables. Quite popular in the aristocratic and well-to-do crowds, meanwhile, Mr. Apples mingles within higher circles of the city. High stakes betting events and late night parties occasionally find themselves graced by a surprise appearance. Close friends are given small firkins of a mysterious beverage that soothe the soul and strengthen the body (Editors Note: our office is blessed enough to have one such flask, and it is not for sale). We also have it on good authority that Mr. Apples and Mr. Wines have been spotted leaving the House of Chimes together, suggesting a friendship between the two.

Mr. Cups

The trades of crockery, pottery and sculpture are the domains of Mr. Cups. Its agents in the city, known as Relickers, are rag-and-bone men who ensure the cleanliness of our city by removing debris and junk from the streets. If you have such refuse, please pile it at the edge of your street for collection. If it is valuable enough, the Relickers may even bequeath you with a small trinket of Mr. Cups' favor. In addition to its benevolent agents, Mr. Cups is a wealthy and charitable patron of the arts. Artisans and tinkers across our great city pay it homage in an annual ceremony of offerings, where wondrous works of art crafted by the citizens of London are submitted for consideration. A chosen few are then selected personally by Mr. Cups to be added to its personal collection, and the creators are showered in lavish gifts.

Mr. Iron

A titan of industry and shrewd economic advisor, Mr. Iron oversees the fabrication and trade of tools, weapons and machinery such as printing presses. We can confirm that the rumors are true: Mr. Iron does not speak, and writes with both hands simultaneously. Consumed with great responsibility of overseeing the city's economy, it understandably has little time for idle gossip or luxuries such as humor. Let it not be forgotten, however, that everyone in this city owes Mr. Iron a great debt. Without its intervention during the Clockwork Incident, Fallen London would have been destroyed. We shall respect its wishes for privacy and decline to provide any further information, aside from that it heads the well known and successful funging company Iron and Misery Co. We advise you cease prying into such matters as well.

Mr. Veils

Mr. Veils' dealings are in clothing and fabric, songs and secrets. By extension, therefore, it has business in Spite and the East End among the textile factories (though not the more dubious and undesirable dealings of those districts, we can assure you). It is worth mentioning that Veils-velvet is perhaps the most sought after material for clothing in the entire Undersea, which material is created and produced by Mr. Veils' factories of course. On the infrequent occasions that businesses such as Merrigans Exchange have some in stock, bidding often drives the prices to ludicrous amounts. Where such material is harvested and produced, however, remains a closely guarded secret.

Mr. Wines

All potable liquids falls under the purview of the amiable and loquacious Mr. Wines. Not even brewers of infernal drinks dare do business without an appropriately approved license. Any tavern or business found to be supplying unapproved beverages shall be summarily dealt with. The unfortunate nature of our city, however, is that there are those who would seek to circumvent the law and natural order. What the Gracious Widow has done is beyond reproach, and information leading to her capture will be greatly rewarded. The highest honor among Vintners is to have one's wine added to Mr. Wines' legendary cellar or included in its distribution channels to be sold at the taverns of the city. This Master is known to have a close friendship with Mr. Apples and Mr. Cups, and has been reported to occasionally attend high society parties with them.

Mr. Stones

Mages in Fallen London are familiar with this particular Master, as their constant quest for spell components inevitably leads them to seek gemstones. These shiny and valuable items are the domain of Mr. Stones, the short spoken and unflappable regulator of salt, gems and quarrystone. Though shortages of the items can be frustrating, we agree, we urge patience: the Masters know what is best for the city, and this too shall surely pass. The stories are true as well: all imported gemstones pass through an inspection performed by Mr. Stones or its agents, and are duly marked in a way such that only a trained eye can discover it. Therefore, seek not to obtain diamonds or other gaudy baubles illicitly: mercy is not something this Master is known for.

Mr. Spices

We would love to tell you wonderful stories and exciting tidbits about Mr. Spices, but it is quite irritable and refused to speak with our office. Therefore, suffice it to say that this Master deals in smokes, honey and, of course, spices. Most of these items are imported into the city, so naturally this Master's business often takes it abroad via an expansive network of naval trade networks.

Mr. Pages

Our office, the Ministry of Public Decency, is under the protection and governance of Mr. Pages. Tasked with protecting the public from dangerous literature and publications, we have dedicated our lives to upholding the morality of Fallen London. The broadsheets (also known as screamers and newspapers) fall under our jurisdiction, of course, and Mr. Pages can often be found among the printshops of Doubt Street or the bookbinders of in the Echo Bazaar sidestreets. Even the great library of the University is subject to its review, and at least a dozen rebellious authors from the two colleges have founds themselves exiled from the city. If you are an aspiring author or journalist, be sure to register with us prior to publishing anything lest you end up like those poor sods. If you wish to join our exalted ranks, look for our advertisement in the Unexpurgated London Gazette.

And there, dear reader, is where we shall leave you. Should you be graced by the presence of a Master, remember to bow deeply and speak only when spoken too. Remember that they lead our city forward to a bright future, and that without their guidance London would be lost. Rumors of a tenth master shall not be tolerated: report any such sedition to your nearest constable.