The Amsterdam Gambit

Am sdam is the unofficial capital of the Republic. The biggest city on the eastern coast—fickle and bustling, as any capital should be. Today it offers you every pleasure, from the strongest Me(d)land liquor in the back room of a respectable coffeehouse, to a pinch of cane on the fingernail of a giggling flap, looking for night adventures to the sound of orcish jive. And tomorrow… Who knows what tomorrow will bring? In the blink of an eye, this city makes rich people out of stars—and with equal ease turns them into beggars. Here the path from a half-underground theater on the outskirts of Hooglan to the stage of Gideon Hall can be as short as a sly journalist’s camera flash; and moving from a penthouse on Fourth Alley to Dorl(an) lodging houses is as smooth and unnoticed as the sunset. Here, in an instant, you can rise above the crowd—take a profit on the exchange—and, turning the corner onto Grotemuur straat, find yourself as a random victim of another showdown between Families who couldn’t share the income from an underground wine shop. This is Amsdam—the City of Rains.