Remedy

Chapter Two The Plexus-1

Chapter Two

The PlexusRiverside Quay had once been a thoroughfare. Owing to the port's location a small tavern had been constructed by the roadside when trade agreements between Estarc, Albeth, and Therascia had been finalised. The subtle greasing of palms saw the boats docked only at twilight, and travellers were ushered towards the tavern, the sole resting place before the long journey to the city. It had stood two stories tall, a beacon offering shelter to all, and turning profits into expansion.

Over the years the tavern grew to twice its height and size, offering games where coin could be gambled away on the wings of luck. But those seeing the fruits of this labour sought to turn their own hand to profiteering. There was no ownership of the land surrounding the inn, and soon traders established small ramshackle huts and offered games of chance, rumbustious encounters, and more, to those willing to pay. Gamblers' dens and houses of iniquity snaked through the surrounding area. The more sordid of which were often hidden behind the facade of honest trade.

Merchants arrived, preying on those of good fortune or high spirits, setting up their own trading posts to complete the maze of temptation and sundries. When the Plexus was finally requested to bring order, what had once been a simple roadside inn had become a town.

Riverside Quay, inheriting its name from the founding inn, soon became the second largest town on the island of Livingstone, and was second only to Estarc. While Estarc was more of an esteemed trading town, specialising in raw materials, crafts, and tradesmen, Riverside Quay blossomed into the gathering place of merchants.

The Lords of Livingstone, seeing the rapid and unsavoury expansion, enforced a boundary by acquiring the surrounding domain. When the lack of unclaimed land denied further expansion, prospectors employed frames and platforms to support haphazard constructions in place; elevating their own establishments above their competition in bizarre and curious fashions. Seemingly dangerous wooden walkways linked the structures, creating a second town interlinked with one below. With space now a rare commodity people burrowed beneath the ground, employing the skills of local miners to create subterranean dens and parlours.

The streets heaved with mercantile presence. Those not possessing stores pushed carts through the busy streets. Often lingering before the more affluent traders in hope to tempt a passerby before being forcibly moved, by members of the Plexus, to the market square, where all the carts should gather.

The inn remained larger and more majestic than any other building, the central feature of an intricate web. There was a perplexing, chaotic order to the town, but the enforcement of laws was without reprieve, and there was but one punishment. Those causing disorder, or owing an unpayable debt, were sent to Estarc to perform hard labours in the mines or refinery, until all obligations had been settled in full.

As Rob reached the town he was greeted by a few vaguely familiar faces. The Hunters' Plexus here offered the island some measure of security. They donned the robes of law enforcement and possessed a more obvious presence in time of high business, such as that brought by the traders' market. Whilst hosted in the neighbouring city the whole island benefited from such events, more noticeably, the inns and taverns.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the land and bringing premature darkness to the lower streets before the skies above grew black. Visible to those still strolling the higher tiers, the light's final glow sent hues of red, crimson, and purple across the darkening sky in a brilliant display.

Rob took a deep breath of the cool air, the scent of roasting meat stirring his hunger. Light began to illuminate the streets, drawing the eye to places whose business thrived in the darkened hours. Merriment and laughter filled the night chorus as proprietors closed their shops for the evening, fending off the last minute bargain-hunters who tried to barter a lower price for perishing wares.

Briskly Rob side-stepped a young couple who were lost in flirtatious conversation, seemingly unaware of his presence as they continued their unbroken stride without even a passing glance in his direction. The creaking groan of a cart drew his attention. The young merchant hid within the shadows. Covering himself and his wares with a dark tarpaulin, he concealed himself within an alcove in the hope of remaining undetected until first light, when he could once again ply his trade.

This town attracted those from all walks of life, the rich, and the poor. Those not living or granted lodgings within the borders were removed as last orders were called, with no heed or quarter granted for weather or distance. Most traders were not fortunate enough to be able to cover the cost of residing here, and found themselves evicted without mercy. Unless, as this young merchant hoped to, they evaded the sight of the Plexus.

The brilliant, blue light emitted from a cylinder caught Rob's attention. It moved through the crowds, clutched within the hands of a middle-aged man, bathing him in a luminescent aura as he made his slow, ritualistic progression through the street. Halting frequently, he would raise the cylinder, the act releasing a small orb of light from within. Rob monitored its path, watching in silent appreciation as it snaked upwards before finding its home within one of the many lanterns to bathe the surrounding area in its cool glow. Once the orb had found its resting place his progression continued, stopping at each lantern or light-well.

Rob nodded politely as the figure stepped past him. The Bearer of Dynamism was an important and respected role. The Research Plexus had taught select few how to maintain the energy the town would need. There was much to the process. It involved the accurate alteration of reception devices, as well as the gathering and distribution of energy.

Their final task of the night was the lighting of the town's lanterns. A true master of their role had collected enough energy throughout the day to see this task empty the final cylinder, without waste or excess. From Rob's estimation, the fair-haired man was well-practised in such things. Not that any would be wasted if they had generated an excess, anything left unused would be stored for the next day, but the Plexus was said to offer incentives for those showing efficiency.

His familiarity with this town afforded Rob a certain knowledge, such as the places often forgotten by those passing through. Whenever he found himself here, he would follow the dark winding passages to an inn hidden beneath supports and shadows. Even during the busiest times the environment always adhered to a certain clientele, hunters and seasoned travellers.

To Rob, there was a beacon which betrayed its nature. Lost within the velvety shades it could still be easily identified by the small collection of merchants standing sentry near its doors. Rob often referred to such a gathering as a con of merchants.

Whilst seeming to work independently, haggling and counter offering their competition, they were all part of the same association. Their act ensured they got the best deal, rather than lose a sale. Buyers deeming the wares too expensive would be tempted by a rival's counter offer, believing it to be a bargain. A similar method was employed for the purchase of goods, ensuring they could be resold for a generous profit. A merchant recognised members of the Hunters' Plexus as easily as most people recognised an Elementalist. Hunters were easy prey. They sought to lighten their load as quickly as possible before moving on to their next quarry.

Rob took a slight step backwards as he found himself flanked by the merchants. Each cast their hungry gaze over him, mentally probing his pockets as if they could see the spoils within. There was almost a look of disappointment as he carefully unwrapped the leather cloth he had removed from his jerkin, to reveal an ornate dagger and a silver ring.

He felt their gaze burning into his breast pocket, as if the green jewel he had risked his very life for called to them. They anticipated his presence greatly. He had been known to bring back items which provoked a physical response from even their most senior members. If nothing else, they knew he always had something for them.

Whilst he rarely stopped to gather treasures and trinkets he almost never passed by a weapon. With the uncertainty and dangers of The Depths of Acheron, being prepared could be the difference between life and death. The items he found were often small and well-forged, worth a few coin to any willing to part with them. There was little he retrieved he wouldn't part with, but on occasions, when he would find a familiar hilt or crest, he would return them to the Plexus to be passed along to the next of kin.

With his business concluded he pushed open the plain wooden door, leaving the merchants behind in the cool night air. The atmosphere within was alive with chatter, a stark contrast to what would have been discovered the previous night.

The full moon brought with it tidings of woe. People flocked in crowds, praying that numbers alone would ensure their safety. Parents slept huddled in the room beside their terrified children. Neighbours slept with neighbours and, despite the sheer volumes of empty abodes, even the bravest of criminals rarely strayed from their clan. Unrest had settled throughout the land. Once they had been safe from danger, yet now a terror stalked their plane, drawn into their world by the moon's own grace. The Goddess Selene, solitary in nature, now granted passage for unspeakable things to prey on those who, like her, thrived in isolation.

Fables had once warned children not to stray after dark, and now this truth made them fear even the moon's once comforting light. The Severaine had brought with it a new order, a new cause to fear. Those taken were lost. Hunters had once infiltrated The Depths of Acheron in force, hoping to rescue the abducted and stem the corruption of all that was good. Of thirty men just two returned, such was the horror of the darkened kingdoms. Knowing its terrors, none but fools would seek to enter.

Rob shuffled through the crowd. Regulars—recognising the hunter from the many solitary hours he had passed within these walls—parted, allowing him to approach the bar unhindered. His familiar tankard was waiting. The amber shade was somewhat paler than usual, a clear indication of the barkeep's intention to stretch his stock further during these busy hours. With a long exhale, Rob moved to lean with his back against the bar, his bottom perched on the edge of the stool as he surveyed the room.

The roar of laughter and the raised tones of heated debate echoed throughout his tired mind. There was still time to complete his task before the Plexus closed its doors, but he knew the moment his fatigued legs had carried him across this threshold he would not stray from the tavern for some time. One ale would be followed by several more, perhaps more than normal given its weakened state. It would do little to relieve the fatigue which weighed on both his body and mind. He had survived once more, yet he had still achieved nothing. Raising his hand to his breast pocket he reflected on the complete insignificance of it all.

Rob swilled the warm ale around his mouth, clicking his tongue with slight disgust at the diluted flavour. A small crowd had started to gather around a young man, his shrill tone filled with excitement. Placing his tankard down he signalled to the barkeep, before approaching the gathering mob. There were rare few occasions people attracted such attention. Those recipient to such a gathering were either brilliant, or fools.

The young man flicked his hair from his sparkling eyes, before he unrolled a parchment on the ale soaked table before him. The stale fluid caused small segments of the ink to smudge. Rob heard him speak, his tones now showing a calm anticipation as he spoke of the labour he sought in order to pursue the treasure detailed on the map. His finger prodded the parchment as he explained his intensive plan.