The Latent Space Travel Agency

You arrive at Werewolf during the full moon, when the town's distinctive architecture—buildings with reinforced basements and doors that lock from the outside—becomes apparent. The local custom of monthly gathering in the town square is taken with utmost seriousness; participation is not optional. The settlement is renowned for its leather goods, produced from hides tanned according to methods perfected over centuries of necessity. The eastern district, where those caught between states take shelter, maintains its own strict calendar and considerable archives on the nature of transformation. A warning: the town council requests all visitors consult the lunar phases before booking arrival. Pack accordingly.

# BARK Upon arrival in Bark you observe two distinct quarters separated by an ancient ravine: in the northern heights, the air carries the sharp report of sound itself—voices, warnings, laughter—which residents export in carefully corked vessels; in the southern groves, the economy turns on the papery exterior of trees, harvested and sold to the neighboring villages as textile, medicine, and ornament. The local custom requires that visitors participate in the evening exchange, wherein townspeople trade a recorded sound for a piece of bark, both wrapped identically in cloth so their contents remain uncertain until unwrapped. The town maintains a reputation for producing the finest tannins in the region, though you will hear equally enthusiastic claims about the acoustical properties of the northern quarter's finest recordings. Bring coins for both districts; the exchange will not accept mixed payment.

# VELVET You arrive to find the streets soft underfoot, the buildings' surfaces napped and lustrous in certain lights. The locals move with deliberate slowness, as if the air itself resists hurried movement. Each evening at dusk, residents gather to run their palms along the town's famous walls—a ritual said to maintain the pile's direction and restore what friction has disturbed. The town is celebrated throughout the Counties for its export of persuasion: the velvet glove trades briskly here, and diplomats consult local merchants before difficult negotiations. You'll notice the distinction between the eastern quarter, where surfaces catch light brilliantly, and the western quarter, where the same material absorbs it entirely. The distinction troubles newcomers less once they understand it is merely a matter of direction. Bring cotton gloves if your hands perspire; the local textile merchants prefer their goods approached with caution.

Upon arrival in Ballad, you notice the streets arranged in repeating loops, each corner marked by a weathered signpost bearing the same inscription. The local custom is the evening recitation: residents gather to recount a single story, night after night, with minor variations that accumulate like dust. The town trades primarily in narrative—long, serialized accounts of love and loss that move slowly from district to district, picking up new details as they travel. Ballad is also known for its bridge district, where the song-merchants maintain their stalls, selling verses that arch between spoken word and melody without quite committing to either. Bring sturdy shoes; the loops are longer than they appear.

# NURSERY You arrive to find saplings arranged in rows beneath a glass roof, their leaves catching the even light in perpetual spring. The local custom requires visitors to water something before departing—a modest gesture observed without ceremony. The town is renowned for its twin exports: young plants destined for distant gardens, and a peculiar form of care-work that involves patient repetition, gentle correction, and the gradual coaxing of growth from resistant material. The nursery operates in two seasons simultaneously: the season of propagation, where cuttings are encouraged to root in sand and peat, and the season of tending, where existing specimens are pruned and nurtured toward marketable size. Bring sturdy boots; the paths remain perpetually damp from irrigation.