Aesthetics refers to the appearance of the city, and then strictly its veneer. No one in the Spectrum seems to care what goes on behind closed doors, as long as it never under any circumstance spills into the clean, conflict-free streets of the Capitol. Daian can count on one hand the number of raids he’s experienced in his tenure as an Aegin. He’s often reflected on the notion that the brilliance of the sky carriages isn’t making travel within the city faster and more efficient, it’s in clearing the streets. Keeping people moving keeps them from quarreling or robbing or killing, and bottlenecking them in elevated sky carriage stations makes them easy to watch and control.

Statistics refers to the number of “undesirables” arrested and incarcerated by every Aegin. Officially, there is no number Aegins are required to meet. Unofficially, that number is handed down to them from their superiors on a weekly basis. Likewise, there is no official punishment or reprimand for not meeting one’s non-existent quota. In truth, going several weeks with low numbers of arrests is the same as an Aegin requesting a posting at some stinking stable in a satellite hamlet outside the cities.

In a society that demands constant proof of one’s value, that demands pure function in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, and above all, status, forcing a street Aegin to live by a number alone is enough to make that number lethal for others.

Daian isn’t naive; he understands the necessity of appearance in all things Crachian. If anyone, in fact, understands the importance of keeping up appearances, it’s him. Be it the picturesque street or an Aegin’s arrest record, image is the veneer that maintains order, far more than any number of men and women in green tunics carrying short blades. He doesn’t believe in arresting the innocent or even targeting harmless vagrants, however. In his mind it’s counterproductive. Crache worries too much about the aesthetic of every street and alley. What difference does it make what these people do down here? The only goal is not to be one of them.

His relationship with Chew is the perfect example. Any other Aegin in the Capitol would’ve clapped manacles around Chew’s wrist the second they witnessed him practicing his chosen form of grift.

Daian, on the other hand, recognized an opportunity presenting itself.

He finds Chew where Daian always finds Chew, plying the trade of an everyday fishmonger in the market. He’s a pudgy man approaching the twilight of his life, although most of his gray hair has already expired. His eyes have remained sharp and his arms strong, and the latter is hardly the result of tossing freshly caught fish across the market, something Daian doubts the man has ever done.