While they may initially seem hard and fast, interpreting the laws the Kithain live under is not an exact science. For any of the six rights of the Escheat, circumstances play a major role in how violations are viewed (and indeed whether anything is viewed as a violation). While the count and countess differ somewhat in how they enforce the Escheat within their respective domains, one thing that’s true on both sides of the river is that Kithain who have previously shown themselves to be steadfast supporters can expect leniency. Those who are known to be troublemakers and revolutionaries may find that the laws are enforced rather more strictly for them than for others … 

The Escheat in the County of Boadicea’s Tomb

          Count Daniel Steinbeck is a solid Traditionalist, and his enforcement of the laws of Kithain society reflect that. Nobles are expected to act with the best interests of their vassals in mind and behave in ways fitting for faerie lords and ladies, but at the end of the day, their word within their domains is law. It is always permissible to appeal a noble’s judgment to their overlord, and the count is scrupulously fair in dealing with cases that reach him — more than one of his vassals has found themselves on the sharp end of a reprimand for selfish or poorly-judged decisions, and Kithain who admit their guilt and ask for mercy are often treated leniently. On the other hand, frivolous or highly technical appeals that obey the letter but not the spirit of the Escheat may result in an even harsher judgment than the original one.

          The count is the only authority when it comes to possession of freeholds in north London. Duels, gambling or open warfare will not be judged valid reasons to claim territory unless explicitly approved in advance. Nobles who try to take advantage of this via dishonorable trickery — like putting up their territory as stakes and then falling back on the count if they lose — are likely to find their holdings awarded to some uninvolved third party.

• Right of Demesne: This Right is held very close to its original interpretation. Individual nobles may, of course, govern their fiefs as they see fit, but in the eyes of the count, it’s the noble who governs and who will ultimately be held responsible, regardless of what the reality is. “Democracy” and other such notions are for mortals, not for the Kithain. Respect for one’s superiors and good manners is expected — in casual situations reasonable decorum is fine, but Kithain have been punished for seemingly minor violations of etiquette during formal court functions.
• Right to Dream: Both Ravaging and Rhapsody are expressly forbidden in the County of Boadicea’s Tomb. Leanhaun who live in north London can expect to be closely watched, at least until they demonstrate their reliability.
• Right of Ignorance: The count is reasonably lenient when it comes to Enchanting mortals, but expects a tithe of one dross for each week or fraction of a week of Enchantment. It is, of course, possible to get away with not paying, but it does require some effort, as agents make regular unannounced visits to the known freeholds for this exact purpose. Dealings with other supernatural creatures are a more complex question: in general, the count tolerates relationships that have a long history (the Fianna, House Merinita, certain Dreamspeakers and Ecstatics) as long as no Kithain secrets are exposed. Relations with groups with whom there’s a history of hostility (the Ravnos, the Get of Fenris, the Technocrats) will draw harsh punishment if discovered. Everything in between is officially discouraged.
• Right of Rescue: Changelings who refuse to assist their fellows can expect to be punished with more than just a slap on the wrist, unless they can show that the danger they would have run in doing so was too great for any reasonable person to risk. Cowardice in the face of danger is a serious crime in the count’s eyes! Failing to rescue chimera is generally not punished, but Kithain who do demonstrate bravery by doing so will earn Daniel’s esteem. 
• Right of Safe Haven: Freeholders are expected to provide a minimum of two nights’ worth of food and shelter for any Kithain who request it. In exchange, the guest is expected to behave with respect and decorum; someone who violates this mandate can be refused hospitality without any discredit to the freeholder. The count takes this right very seriously: demonstrating generosity and openhandedness are common paths to his favor, while permitting harm to come to a guest is perhaps the fastest way to have one’s fiefdom revoked. Still, these are hard times, and Count Steinbeck is wise enough to give credit to a host who does their best. It’s more praiseworthy to feed your guests gruel and go hungry yourself than it is to give your guests a good meal but reserve the expensive wines and costly delicacies for your own table.
• Right of Life: Duels to chimerical death are permitted so long as they are carried out fairly and honorably. Any other form of chimerical killing, or the mortal murder or Undoing of another changeling, is a serious crime and will be investigated (and punished, if the perpetrator is found) as thoroughly as is practical.

The Escheat in the County of the Fallen Palace

          Unlike her counterpart to the north, Countess Irina is more practical than idealistic. She judges cases brought before her — and judges the performance of her vassals — not by how well they adhere to some abstract code of honor, but by how they serve the goal of keeping order in the county and keeping herself in power. The tricky part is to introduce that argument without being obvious about it. The countess is not about to allow herself to look too overtly self-serving, and, anyway, she dislikes people who have no subtlety. But if you can convince her that the ruling you want is good for her and good for the county (in that order), then you’re more than halfway to getting her to decide in your favor. 

          There’s a lot of room in the Fallen Palace and its vassal fiefdoms for underhandedness and shady dealings, just as long as whatever you do doesn’t make enough of a fuss to come to her attention. Judging where that line lies is often the hardest part of getting away with something. Any incident that would cause her to have to answer to the duke or, worse, the regent is bound to make her exceedingly unhappy, so the ambitious Kithain of south London are best served by making sure that any major disruption they cause comes with some pre-baked justification that the countess can point to if anyone questions it. If you’re going to murder someone and claim their freehold, you’d better have an excellent alibi and proof that the conveniently-deceased Baron Lucky was engaged in something treasonous. It doesn’t have to be true: it just has to be convincing enough that she can defend her decision-making to her superiors.

• Right of Demesne: If you don’t think you’re being treated with the respect you deserve, the expectation is that you’ll handle the matter yourself, not ask the countess to sort it out. Freeholders are meant to be self-sufficient, and anyone who isn’t will be replaced with someone who is. Irina doesn’t much care how her vassals organize themselves — if a gang of redcaps want to call themselves an autonomous collective, that’s fine with her as long as they do what they’re told and can defend their territory. As far as she’s concerned, the important part is that she knows whose neck is on the block when things go sideways. But there will be someone, even if she has to pick them herself. Or, more likely, just punish the whole group for making her life difficult.
• Right to Dream: Officially, the countess forbids both Ravaging and Rhapsody in her domain. In practice, Ravaging is mostly let slide unless it’s done so publicly and so obviously that ignoring it would risk making Irina look weak (or, worse, get her called on the carpet by Duke George or Regent Whitestone.) Rhapsody is a different story, and there have been some extremely creative and very painful punishments levied against Kithain who mistakenly thought they could get away with it …
• Right of Ignorance: As in the north, Enchanting mortals carries with it a charge of one dross per person per week or part of a week. Irina, however, is more strictly practical than Daniel is, both when it comes to Enchanting and when it comes to relationships with other supernatural creatures. As long as she perceives it to be in her interest, it will be permitted — but she expects that both she personally and the county as a whole will get more out of such a relationship than the other side does. If there isn’t some benefit that can be pointed to, she is likely to demand that ties be cut — although bribes to her personally count as benefits!
• Right of Rescue: It’s expected that Kithain will help each other escape from Banality when possible. The standard for “when possible” is a good deal less stringent in the south than in the north, however. It’s not entirely unknown for changelings to engineer dangerous situations for their rivals and then leave them in the lurch, while receiving only a mild chastisement. The countess appreciates cleverness, just as long as she doesn’t think it’s likely to be directed at her.
• Right of Safe Haven: This right is handled very similarly in both north and south: two nights’ worth of food and shelter on request, from any freeholder, so long as the host’s hospitality is not abused. Some Kithain believe that Irina encourages this behavior to force her vassals to use up resources that might otherwise be devoted to intriguing against her, and they probably aren’t entirely wrong, but by all appearances she also sincerely believes in hospitality as a cultural value. Wining and dining your hated enemy does honor to both of you — you, for your generosity to an enemy, and them, for being brave enough to put themselves at your mercy. Guests should be very careful not to do anything that could be construed as abusing that generosity, though.
• Right of Life: The countess generally overlooks chimerical death, regardless of the exact method involved — even if it happens to be one of her favorites, she won’t intervene unless it’s excessively frequent. She doesn’t usually reward the perpetrators — and sending one of her barons to chimerical death is a very poor way to convince her you’re the right person to run a freehold, since the last thing she wants is for her vassals to get used to settling disputes that way. But she doesn’t usually punish anyone, either. Mortal deaths are always investigated — although how much enthusiasm they’re investigated with may vary. With Undoings, however, time and cost are no object when it comes to identifying the killer, and when they are identified, they’ll be very, very lucky if they suffer only mortal death as punishment.

The Escheat and Invoking the Wyrd

Among the laws of the Escheat is the Right of Ignorance: “Changelings are forbidden to betray the Dreaming to Banality. They must never reveal their true natures to humanity.” While there is some wiggle room when it comes to this injunction, invoking the Wyrd in front of un-Enchanted mortals or other supernatural creatures who are ignorant of the existence of the fae is generally held to be a violation of it.

The most common mitigating circumstance, of course, is “no one ever finds out.” Most mortals don’t have the capacity to remember what they saw or the influence to make a fuss about it if they do, so nothing will ever come of it unless there’s a Kithain witness — and even then the authorities would have to really have it in for you for it to result in anything more than a scolding. It’s best to be cautious, though, because if you happen to be spotted by a tabloid journalist who can remember what she saw and proceeds to make a fuss in the papers, you’ll still be in a lot of trouble even though it was just one person.

On the other hand, if you invoke the Wyrd in a highly public place where there could be a lot of witnesses, the consequences may be severe (c.f. “revealing in-depth information” on the Inter-Sphere Play page) — up to and including permanent banishment from the Kingdom of Roses, i.e., removal from the game. If you can argue convincingly that it was a matter of life and death, you may escape with being assigned a dangerous quest as penance and sternly warned not to do it again. The more urgent the necessity, and the smaller the number of witnesses who can’t already interact with the chimerical world, the more lenience you’re likely to be shown.