...then comes lunch.

Elderly lady mail clerk and young customer are chatting. Customer says, "oh! I'm wearing my boss's coat right now, give me something weird to put in the pocket!" Others within earshot all start looking for something because, hey, important quest. Mail clerk finally reaches under counter, pulls out a large roll of labels, and tears one off.

Twas this

It starts with a carriage nap and continues with unexpected news.

Then, our prince appears. And an absurd, surreal duck?

More napping. And more absurdity on birds that makes you think 'what the hell was that' when you wake up.

Oh, the next ones are 100% Tom’s dream. The soft lighting, the hazy colors, the whole dreamy atmosphere—he is fully living in his own ultimate dream here.

Then, everything takes a definitive turn as more absurdity happens that belong into a dream, like falling into a lake and losing the oars.

Well, below is definitely my dream.

The weather shifts and that soft light starts fading with the arrival of the unexpected party.

Yet, we are still lingering in the sweet dream, there is still light and warmth with the promise Tom gets from Mary and the hand brushing.

Episode 9 starts with Mary in bed and a very different, very bright, contrasting color palette. Almost all characters are dressed in colors that are clashing and definitely fail to match with each other.

The ascent begins and things start to get hazy again, but now it’s foggy, colder, and far harsher—blurring the screen as everything begins to fall apart.

The tension is climbing and we are almost at pitch black. The colors get darker and colder. The nightmare is reaching its peak.

This is Mary and Tom's nightmare now.

And then, we see the light and wake up.

Realizing that it was all a bad dream.

The wound is backstory. The structure they built on top , the habits, the walls, the jokes they make to change the subject, the way they leave before they can be left, that's character. So don't show me the wound. Show me the architecture.

CRAFTS — 199/262 — Guilds and crafts

The society of the medieval town was primarily composed of craftsmen and merchants who ensured its economic growth. Based on municipal rights, they had the right to practice their trade and market rights. Apart from privileges such as the protection and support of the town in operation, healthcare, and sufficient food supply, it was their duty to pay taxes on every sale or export of goods outside the town’s borders. Essentially, the status of the community depended on them, so it was important that they did not relocate, did not practice their profession elsewhere, and passed on the craft to future generations. During one century, several craftsmen of the same profession worked in the town. These craftsmen gradually began to form groups with politico-economic rules, known as guilds. They had their own seals, stamps, and banners bearing the guild’s coat of arms designated by the ruler. Those who belonged to the guild had support from others, and they collectively agreed on prices, sales regulations, training rules, and obligations. Only guild members could sell goods.

TRIVIA

— Women were no rarity in medieval crafts, though they often slipped through the cracks. While some worked in businesses that did not receive much recognition (as domestic servants, retailers, midwives, prostitutes), many others contributed to a shared family business with their husbands or fathers. Their work was only seen as part of the household, a mere “support” that often exempted them from taxation, and thus also official documentation. But contemporary records show their presence well: illustration depict women as stone masons or carpenters, municipal records list them as tilers, plasterers, smiths and so forth. The 1405 manual “The Treasure of the City of Ladies” by Christine de Pisan even advises a craftswoman to be familiar with all aspects of her husband's trade, so that she could manage the entire workshop. As family members, women were even allowed into guilds, most often as apprentices, rarely as journeywomen or mistresses. In many cases, widows were allowed to inherit their late husband's business, taking in apprentices and journeymen and participating in social and religious celebrations. Women would make around 2 to 5 percent of the members of any medieval guild, but their position was fickle: Most were barred from electing guild officials or serving as officials themselves, and if a widow remarried a non-member, she would have to fear losing her guild membership.

The textile and luxury crafts of Cologne, Rouen and Paris (such as gold spinners, silk weavers or purse makers) even had female-dominated guilds, whose members were majorly or exclusively women. They would allow for women to become mistresses, running their own businesses, employing apprentices and regulating the technical aspects of their trade, but even those guilds were not fully independent from male influence. Most of the ware produced by the Cologne silk makers, for example, was sold by their silk merchant husbands, and while the gold spinners' guild mistresses examined the ware before bringing it to the markets, it were the male goldsmiths' masters who affixed the city seal to them. The work of the silk spinners and purse makers of Paris was even supervised by male jurés altogether, who were not elected by guild members, but by the provost of the city, and were thus often lacking the practical experience completely.