A Chance Meeting Of Minds [Matthew]

[Zandelia]

Spring 29th, 514 AV – The Library


The silence of the dusty tomes, hidden within Stumble Alley and a place that regrettably few citizens of Sunberth valued, had proven to be an amiable companion this day for Zandelia. Having been in the city barely ten days she had felt the need to retreat and take stock of what she had achieved – and what she hoped to achieve. Secrecy was a stock in trade aspect of her personality and when she had considered where to retire the ripples of memory from so many seasons before had wriggled their way into her mind until the conclusion had proven to be inevitable. Without really thinking her feet had traced the path, taken her across the threshold and into the loving embrace of tomes and parchment. Now she sat, legs proper up and crossed upon a table before her and hands clasped behind her head in contemplation.

So much for the spectres of the past, flickering and filling me with fear. They fall just as easily as Robern it seems. Tomorrow, it will be tomorrow and then one of two die. Perhaps a message is in order too? she mused to herself, her machinations arranged in her mind and slotting neatly into place.

Garret had not been overly difficult to track down, a few thieves and a trick or two had toppled him. The help of a beggar, of course, was also noted for consideration. Jarral had been somewhat of a coup ger her after all, he slipped her information steadily if somewhat unreliably and that was a solid first step. She would need more nodes, further informants and watchers but progress had been made and she refused to ignore that. To concentrate only upon the future mountain of tasks and not relish the prior successes would be too melancholic. She sighed and traced her finger across a few rolls of parchment she had commandeered from the battered shelving around her.

“Seeking, seeking and always seeking but anarchy seems to rule even the scribbled word here” she spoke aloud into the dusty gloom – she was alone for now from what she had noted and they were simple enough words to be unconcerned over.

She had been searching for something, a clue or an insight about the history of Sunberth that would aid her in her endeavours. The ever anarchic city, however, seemed to want to forget its origins beyond keeping a hold upon the ravenous hatred its belly broiled with. She knew she would never find anything of particular note upon the decimated Syndicates but hope sprang eternal and so she had sought in case she would find. Nothing. No hastily sequestered secrets upon the Sun’s Birth, nothing to say why Robern had risen to ascendancy. She was left merely with the rumours that all knew and trying to piece it together in her mind’s eye. It was a task that was proving altogether too difficult.

Nothing starts from nothing, so where does it begin? The mage rule? The uprising and the tip of Olfstan’s blade? They are but legends but must contain a grain of truth at least. How did Robern do it? Back alley deals of course, but with whom? Why did no one oppose him with any strength? Or did they and are merely swept away and erased from memory? she asked herself.

She considered the last option most likely but held no evidence with which to be certain. The Sun’s Birth, of course, had their own founding mythologies. She knew it was said they were Syliran Knights once but how true that was she was not sure. They wore armour that kindled such fancies but she was no stranger to misinformation. Creating a legend was necessary to add gravitas to one’s claim and they claimed much. The idea of their being a Baron Berth was common enough amongst the populace and she considered the claim sound. Then again, Sunberth hated rulers and so she was once more left with a ‘how’ and not a whiff of a fact.

She grunted and opened a scroll, her eye tracing the angular and primitive script within with a small measure of curiosity.

If I can find out how then perhaps the Scars can replicate it quicker, easier and with far less bloodshed if at all possible she told herself, forcing her mind into the task.

She had promised Bitzer she would try to aid her and aid her she would. If she didn’t pursue every avenue of information possible then she was failing her companion and that could not be tolerated.

[Matthew]

He was alone in the library, or so he thought. He hadn't exactly scouted out the location, he wasn't the sort. Instead he had gathered what books he could find and proceeded to retreat to the furthest and darkest corner, wanting to be completely alone in his thoughts. His mind was starting to buzz and ache like it did every so often, and that meant that he would soon need to sate it. There were all sorts of knowledge that he could pursue in Sunberth, but sometimes it was best to fall back on the more classical sort of knowledge. Or perhaps it was the classical sort of learning? Granted, most of the books in Sunberth were incredibly full of dust, but they were still books. It seemed to be a rare thing here. The young harlot sat in his quiet corner and read to himself, slowly thumbing through several of the small manuscripts. They were in surprisingly good shape. Perhaps they weren't original documents? The writing was neat and easy to read, allowing Matthew to process the information at a fairly decent pace. First there had been history. Sunberth's history wasn't found in a singular tome like he had hoped. Instead it seemed to be several different accounts from several different people throughout the years, gang and business leaders mostly. They were all small books, but they each held a smattering of unique information. The one common fact he had found was that Sunberth had once been a mining center. Not a surprise, considering the various old mines around the dirty city. Other things were different depending on what book he read. He had been here once before and some of the names he read were familiar. Ordreck and Obal, those were two that showed up more often than not. Then there had been politics. It was a dry concept but an interesting one. He had only been able to find a single book on politics, and it was a short piece from a political enthusiast. The harlot could only imagine how long that enthusiasm would have lasted here in Sunberth. A brief scanning of the small book had allowed Matthew to become familiar with the simple side of democracy, anarchy, single parties, multiple parties, and the general concept of the state. The book barely went into an overview of the simple things before it focused mostly on anarchy. Matthew had read a bit of that part before, as he had heard the term multiple times in Sunberth. This time though, something was different. This time, something in the back of his mind clicked, and the buzzing grew louder. Anarchy. Free society. Opposed to organization. No ruling entity. Anarchy. Down with the state. Enslaved. Slavery. Never. Anarchy. Mines. Comfort. Comfort zone. Belief. Religion. No, logic. Survival. Anarchy. Survival. Puzzle the puzzle, the pieces, clickwhishblurclick. Anarchy. Anarchyanarchyanarchyanarchyanarchyanarchyanarchyalie. The lie. The harlot rose, carrying the books with him. Stacking them upon each other, he tucked them underneath an arm and emerged from his dark corner. Recalling how to get back to the entrance where Remmy should eventually be, Matthew took a turn, another turn, circled around a bookshelf, and then promptly ended up on the other side of a table that Web had her boots popped on. Had she been here the whole time or came after he did? Web was her name, wasn't it? He furrowed his brow as he stared at her curiously, faintly aware of the scrolls she seemed to have been reading. How should he go about this? He was curious about her blind eye, but perhaps that wasn't the best foot to start off on. "Ah, hello. I remember you from the meeting. It is a pleasure to see you again." Matthew's voice was soft and polite, a hand wandering up to absentmindedly brush his bangs away before soon realizing that they were no longer there. He had recently cut his hair. The rest of him was still as posh as ever though, dressed in clothes that showed off just enough and washed with a supply of soap that probably didn't get used by any other soul in Sunberth. "Did you damage your eye in some sort of accident?" Ah, wait, he had decided not to ask that. Oh well. It was as good of a conversational piece as any.

[Zandelia]

Sunberth, city of anarchy and blood, was founded so long ago now that none remember truly how it came to be beyond that it was required for the mines found locally. It has been suggested that the workers came but some say were forced. All that is known for certain is that it still remains, though probably different from its original layout and purpose.

The mines have not been explored to my knowledge, though it is rumoured that they contain both cursed ghosts and valuable treasures. This researcher cannot bring themselves to accept the former but the latter could be likely – much has been lost and the city is old.

Nothing remains from the period between this mining and the coming of the mages but the hate endures from that cursed time, when many died and some say used in horrific experiments. This age, was of course, brought to an end by the mob that no controls Sunberth.

It has been said that the gangs control all but in my humble opinion it is only at the behest of the general populace, such as they recognize their powers. We teeter upon the brink, always fighting each other and with no law to live by beyond the ones we invent ourselves.

We remain…

Her gaze flickered upon from her reading, the contents already known though evoking a smattering of ideas and curiosities that she would perhaps explore at a later date – the mines she had forgotten about, they were a backdrop to the city and disused in the present. However, this mention of treasure and ghosts entered her mind and turned into a desire to discover the veracity for herself. For now, however, she placed that consideration to one side and regarded the newcomer – or rather the acquaintance – before her.

Matthew, an interesting man all things considered. Confident, assured of his capabilities and clever enough to have tried to use my disability against me to provoke a reaction. He knows Bitzer of course, though the extent of that relationship is yet to be proven beyond reasonable doubt – in time. Useful I think she thought to herself as she took him in without the urgency of other company surrounding her.

He was classically beautiful, dark semi-golden skin smooth and inviting. He carried himself well, though she wondered whether he was a consummate actor of were truly possessed of such self-regard and surety. Dark hair, styled well for his profession of a harlot and eyes of blue that she sensed a depth to beyond the veneer he showed the world – it was far from uncommon amongst his ilk. Airy voice, hint of a growl around the edges and all too seductive for his own good. She approved of him really, he knew his trade and as far as she could observe was equipped to ply it with a degree of excellence. If she had been so inclined in her tastes she was sure she would find him irresistible but she found him attractive in other respects. She had thought about gaining a contact within the brothels of the city, or a few perhaps and before her stood one which perhaps could give her what she wanted.

Though his introductions could use a little bit of work. Or perhaps he desires to throw me off. Or is curious. He wouldn’t be the first, nor will he be the last I suspect she mused as she tilted her head and smiled slightly at him, placing the scroll she had been reading delicately upon the table before her.

“Is it?” she asked the world in general, wondering if she could learn something of him in this chance meeting, “it is common opinion that a scarred eye tends to be unattractive. Perhaps I have been talking to the wrong type of people?” she continued smoothly, controlling the brief flash of anger within her and masking it with a warm gaze.

“Accident? Well I suppose that depends upon one’s perspective no? I lost it and that’s all that matters. Life goes on and we all pay our prices. Though I would suggest that if you talk to your clients so tactlessly you should improve your art at speech”

“The meeting was revealing indeed, though I am pleased to meet you personally. Bitzer speaks quite highly of you after all,” that was not strictly true but plausible enough, “and so you are a person of interest. Tell me, do you know anything of history, or are you only interested in mine? Or are such considerations outside of your field of interest?” she asked him, eye watching him for any reactions.

Her words were two-fold and designed to gain a small measure of him. Was he well read? Could he discern subtleties? Was he merely a common harlot? She was a cautious individual and wouldn’t jump in overly soon, she would know more of this man before she shared any of her secrets. She was fighting so hard to erase any trace of herself after all.

[Matthew]

"It isn't unattractive." His words were still that perfectly passive tone, his eyes still that odd apathetic stare. It was like he wasn't entirely whole, not entirely there. He didn't seem to be hiding anything, there wasn't a measure of control to his tone or a veil over his eyes. Perhaps she was not able to read that much into it, really. Whatever the case, he was before her in perhaps his most purest of forms. He was practicly nothing but simple logic, and those simple words were stated as common fact. It wasn't even confidence. It was truth. "I am aware of a few men and women that actually find such scars attractive, if you are ever interested." While simple and honest, his words could be sometimes taken as an insult. He didn't mean that. He wasn't mocking her at all. He was genuinely offering her a favor of company, if she was so inclined to take it. His mind briefly raced back to the history of the city again. The books hadn't mentioned Brega or Ruby, two of the people he worked for in this town. Perhaps he would have to talk to them directly in order to get an idea of the history surrounding the two brothels. How did they feel about the history of the city? Did they wish to be free from a guiding hand, as well? Were they too under the spell of assumed anarchy? Then his mind was back to the politics of it all. Brega was likely a figurehead in the political scene of Sunberth. Was she aware of it? Did she have a knowledge of politics, or was it just simple instinct? He glanced down at his books, studying the cover of the political manuscript. The book had been covered in the thickest layer of dust. If anyone knew politics, they certianly hadn't learned it from a book. Now his stare went back to her. He didn't actually answer her questions in order just let her finish speaking before he tackled each of them one-by-one. The whole entire time his voice and stare was direct and honest. He didn't even seem to think about it. If someone was the type who analyzed the physical appearance of a person, Matthew would be naked. He was seemingly utterly transparent at first glance, which in turn made him a very quick read. However, there wasn't all that much to actually read. He nearly took her hypothetical questions literally, but bit the tip of his tongue right before he did. His mind was clicking and blurring, the gears already in motion, thoughts pushing at his skull. This had allowed him to notice his mistake before he made it, thankfully. He quietly nodded at her explaination of her eye and went straight to the real questions. "I am actually here to study history and politics." He nodded down at his pile of books and then glanced at the seat across from her. "May I sit, or would you like to go elsewhere? But, I like to educate myself in as much as I can. I was originally a student of medicine in Zeltiva, and I dabbled in all sorts of scholarly studies there. The prostitution career led me away from that, though." The transparency continue, a tidbit of his past offered up without second thought. He rose an eyebrow just a bit at the mention of Bitzer, but eventually gave a slow nod. "I see. That is very nice of her. I think highly of her as well." The final comment was saved for last. They had touched upon history and politics, but then had mentioned his clients? He tilted his head, blue eyes shimmering for a moment, something deep in the gaze changing. Where there was ice, there was also fire. Where the air around him seemed calm and cool, suddenly some sort of tension shivered in the air. He set his stack of books down slowly, his actions suddenly a bit graceful. There was obviously something lurking beyond the calm and apparently socially clueless man. There was the Harlot, with silent promises and consuming fire. "If you think my speech could use some practice, I am more than happy for a lesson." Even now his voice was serious, betraying it for the genuine offer that it was. "Would you like to buy my wares, Web?"

[Zandelia]

“Just so?” she asked in response to the mention of attractiveness, “perhaps that is so. I have no reason to doubt you and you see to be more knowledgeable of such matters. I will trust your assessment” she continued smoothly as she shifted her feet so that they were now upon the floor.

She leant forwards and entwined her fingers to form a cradle upon which she rested her chin, listening and considering the man before her further. He seemed so flippant, or perhaps that was wrong. There certainly was a lack of subtlety to his manner, if she trusted her senses – and she often did – she would think he held nothing to him beyond what was upon the surface. Sensation was only a part of the picture though and her mind suggested something more but was unable to grasp a hold upon it for now. She merely accepted him for what he was, she was patient and if he did possess hidden depths they would become apparent eventually. It could take seasons but then nothing came to one without the effort put into it.

So, history is a shared interest. Though he doesn’t say what type. Interesting. A general reader or a more fine-tuned one? Food for thought she mused, stretching her hand out to the battered seat opposite her.

“Please sit, I am not in the habit of going anywhere with strangers that I do not know, but perhaps we can break away for another place in time,” she offered up the bond of leisurely company easily, noting his raised eyebrow at the mention of Bitzer, “she is indeed. I doubt the city has a more staunch believer than she. I am not sure I agree with her upon everything but her heart is in the right place which is more than be said for most” she smiled, she held true affection for the woman.

Again her words were calculated to draw out a comment, anything at all that would hint at what form of bond he and Bitzer had shared over their period of involvement. She was curious, needed to know exactly who had access to her and why. The when would come later after some investigation but the why was always the most important when trying to figure out someone’s motivation – if it existed. Apparently he had none, but then his offer snaked out and she caught a flash of the harlot. He was beautiful of course, she could not help her body reacting to the idea of a day spent in pleasure and relaxation but she doubted he could satisfy her as much as he thought he could.

Yet the offer was frank, almost business-like in nature and seemed well rehearsed after a fashion. He seemed to trade his body easily, a mark of his profession but she wondered whether he could truly divorce emotion from the mechanics. Whores were best at doing it but not even they were entirely immune to their natures. Humanity was a fickle thing, perhaps the most fickle of races. She shivered at the idea of bedding him, parting her lips in an act of arousal, leaning forwards and taking his hand as it came away from the books. She had seen the change in his eyes, the flickering into a warmth that had not been there before and the tension of anticipation emanating from his sculpted form. She tilted her head upwards as if to kiss him and then withdrew with a snorted chuckle.

“Not very good am I? Perhaps I should employ you for lessons one day?” she asked him, a merry teasing in her voice, “sadly you do not adhere to my tastes Matthew. I am one woman that you can arouse but not properly play with” she leant back into her chair and waited for him to sit.

“Education is a noble cause, through information we improve ourselves and thus ascend above the refuse that in this city comprises our immediate peers. Medicine interest me, though I have never had the talent for it. Though your skills may prove most useful in the coming days. I approve”

“I would not like to buy your wares Matthew, not the ones which you offer at any rate. I would buy [i]you/i] if I thought that I could afford it but alas my bargaining position is weak these days. Perhaps in time”

“Tell me, what history do you seek? And why politics? Perhaps I might help, or we could help each other. I have an interest in these things myself. Discussion and debate can be useful. Allow me to ask – who do you think controls Sunberth? You know we have plans, so how would we best gain their success do you think?”

[Matthew]

His fingertips tickled upon her palm as she took his hand, the body of the harlot attentive to even the small details. For a simple motion he made it oddly complex, fingers tickling and then stroking up along the palm, flitting along the surface until the fingers almost laced. When she leaned forward as if to kiss his hand tightened just the slightest bit, nails teasingly digging into her skin for a moment. The fire lanced around him and his lips parted, something smelling of... mint. Then she pulled away with a chuckle and he pulled away as well, tilting his head as he considered her comment. Oddly enough, the flame was gone just as quickly as he had summoned it. It was as if it had been effortlessly blown out, which made sense, considering he seemed to be so professional about it. He nipped on his lower lip with white teeth, eyes growing distant for a brief moment as he turned her question over in his head. He didn't seem to notice her chuckle, but didn't seem particularly put off either. "You aren't bad, I don't think. I can't really tell at a glance, though. Did you practice prostitution at one point yourself?" It was obviously not at all a taboo topic for him, or even an demeaning one. It was just like any other topic of conversation. "However, if I cannot meet your needs, I can certainly find someone who will. Let me know if you are ever interested." He offered a polite smile and then sat in the offered chair, folding one leg over the other and clasping his hands together in front of him. She had an odd way of speaking. It was very intellectual, perhaps? He wasn't sure how he would describe it. It wasn't at all hard to follow, just different. Or perhaps he had gotten too used to the speech patterns of Sunberth. "Can't afford me? Are you in need of Mizas? If you have skill in any type of work, I can help you find a job if you are looking. There are quite a few opportunities in Sunberth." He worked at two brothels and volunteered at a Doctor's clinic. Each job had a certain dark twist to it, but so did everything else in this moody little city. Flipping open his books, he placed them in front of himself, arranging them in an half circle that started at the edge of the table. His clasped hands then returned to the middle of the circle, the books exposed to him in such a way that a simple glance could scan all of their pages. He paused for a moment, then suddenly pulled a corked bottle of ink from his pocket, along with a worn quill. A small roll of paper was brought forth as well, and then flattened in front of him. Blue eyes sharpened as he dipped the tip of the quill in the black liquid and then carefully started to write. Matthew Resource/Contact Profession: Harlot Potential Healer Established Prostitute Potential source of Knowledge He peered at his script and then laid down the quill, glancing up at her. His face was still unreadable. He had heard the terms that she had used, though. He was useful. His skills were useful. He wasn't a member of the Scars, but he supposed that he had helped in certain ways. And now she was asking him about politics and history... and how they could be used to control Sunberth. Did she have the answer? Or was she looking to use him to find the answer? He certainly wasn't opposed to this. Instead, he was actually writing down his uses to her as if creating a resume. It wasn't a resume, though. It was just something for her to think about, since she seemed to like thinking. He could understand thinking. His mind clicked and whirred again, and his tongue slipped out to brush against his soft lips. "Any history, and because I am not familar with politics. Perhaps the one thing that me and your leader have in common are a shared interest in simple knowledge. I am a beginner at both history and politics, so it is hard for me to express my thoughts in correct terms... but." He pointed to one book and then another, taking a moment to reread the words. Several different accounts of the histories of Sunberth, mostly of the mines. Then politics, but mostly of the anarchy concept. "Control? Sunberth seems to value anarchy over anything else. It is unique from all other cities in the sense that it is chaotic, ungoverned, splintered. I believe anarchy is the term for what they like, correct? And to be quiet honest, I don't know that much of your plot. I believe your leader and I exist in a silent but comfortable agreement. It is her business, and I just offer intellectual advice. Like our meeting now, for instance." He grabbed one of the books and plucked it out of the half circle, turning it about to face her. It was a simple description of anarchy. "They want this, which is the exact opposite of what I assume you want. From what I know, control. Do you have a theory on how you can force control on anarchy? Politically? By force? Some other means? The history holds a clue, I think. There is a pattern of sorts, from what little is recorded." He suddenly sounded something like a teacher, like he was pushing her towards an answer. He had an idea, perhaps not a good idea, perhaps an excellent idea. He just wanted to see where her mind went, and see if that would help them both reach another idea together.

[Zandelia]

“Thank you for the compliment, I think. No, I have not worked in a brothel, my interests collide with them at ties but selling my body is something I only do when required. I dabble, let us leave it at that” she responded as she watched him open the books and all but surround himself with them.

“As to work, well I can find that by myself but thank you for the offer. Gold comes and goes as quickly as you breathe and so I shall find some again. I have enough to survive for now, perhaps more in time. Opportunities come to those who seek them and I am a seeker of sorts” she continued as she took the slip of parchment Matthew had proffered to her, taking it between the forefinger and middle finger of her left hand.

She read it and her eyebrow rose slightly at the wording, processing the neat handwriting and the almost purposeful suggestions that lay behind the words upon the parchment. She regarded him anew, assessing and weighing him in her mind. It was almost an offer, one unspoken and beyond what his speech had given her but she could not be sure how far he meant it to be taken. He was a scholar it seemed, a medical dabbler and a prostitute of some renown perhaps. He was difficult to place, he seemed to want to do everything and that was a good cloak for anything which he truly may excel at. She didn’t get the sense that he explored her world to the same degree but he was clearly a person of worth.

Interesting man this Matthew, simple and yet complicated. Open and yet closed. He reminds me of Bitzer. Perhaps I should take a lesson from them and create my own sense of enigma she used as she slipped the calling card into her left boot for future storage.

“You work at Ruby’s I seem to recall Matthew, how often are you there for employment?” she asked, the question simple enough but the knowledge precious, “do you work any other brothel? Or are you loyal to Ruby alone? I may have to seek you out in future” she stated as she took the quill from upon the table and a scrap of paper of her own. She needed little ink as he note was brief.

Web
Weaver/Gatherer
Profession: Investigator

People Person
Mercenary
Definite Source of Knowledge

She smiled as she blew upon her own replication of his act, there was no information within that she would not want known to the public soon enough and not enough to cause her any immediate danger. She needed uses and perhaps he could give them to her in time, leads and means of employment and tools with which to build towards her own ends. She handed it to him silently and wondered if it would spark anything within hi, a desire to seek her out of an offer of partnership. She had no illusions and he held no obligation. He would know a little piece of her now, her outward face enough to build deduction from. Words were not necessary, the offers they had both given were enough to reach a silent understanding. She returned the quill to its ink pot gently.

“Then we can be beginners together, I know little beyond the local mythology that most know. Precise accounts seem to be vague at best, impossible to give credence to at worst. I think this city seeks to forget much of its past and those that explore it probably do not live too long she shrugged as she continued to listen to him, noting how his tone of voice changed towards the end and became more of the scholar than anything else.

“Anarchy, I have been thinking about that term and whether it truly applies to Sunberth. I find myself convinced and yet unconvinced at the same time,” she mused as she pulled out her pipe and placed the tip into her mouth, “it helps me think” she explained simply as she pulled a scroll forwards and held it open with her free hand.

“Here it says that anarchy is the absence of a controlling authority, though in cruder words admittedly. Another talks about government and another slips in a piece about personal freedoms” she continued, “it would seem that Sunberth is anarchy. But is it?”

“People still need food, goods and other items. They need employment and a way to make a living. Do we have government? No. Do we have control? Loosely but perhaps not. Do we have freedom? Of course, if freedom also includes the ability to get your throat slit in an alley. Are we anarchy though…I do not know” she mused aloud as she let the mouthpiece of her pipe trace her lips.

“I think that we have certain levels of control and that mostly they are found in gold. The ebb and flow of money. Businesses, establishments, the slave trade perhaps. You assume but I don’t think we are ready for such considerations yet. In time perhaps. First we must establish ourselves”

“Yet you raise an issue well, how do we establish ourselves if we cannot exercise control? I’d wager that economics would hold the answer. Perhaps the only answer. Our history is violent and bloody, it reeks of hate and a desire to just live and get one with life. Money is a way of giving the people that perhaps”

“What do you think? You seem well read, interested and observant. What would you do? Where would you start?” she asked simply, watching him with interest.

Often a differing perspective is a trigger for thought. Or at least a verification of one’s own data she noted to herself privately.

[Matthew]

Dabbled. How interesting. He wasn't so sure how he felt about that. His professional side scoffed at it, argued that a customer would be able to tell the difference between someone who dabbled and someone who was dedicated. However, his common sense told him that only the unusual customer actually cared enough to know the difference. Most in Sunberth just wanted something to stick themselves in, or something to be stuck in them. He watched at she processed the document, chin settling into an upraised hand as he observed. She glanced up at him and then back down to the paper, her mind getting quite active behind those eyes of hers. Well, eye. One of them was perfectly blank as far as he could tell. He couldn't imagine a life with only a single eye. He shuddered at the thought of a life with no eyesight at all. He would have to research which god to thank for his current healthy state, especially when it came to his eyesight. For a moment, he considered his Auristics. Would it be good to take a look and see what he could find? No, not right now. He rarely used the magic off of impulse. He liked to have a defined and tactical reason to do so. He was cautious of magic, respectful of it. Hopefully he could keep himself that way. He had used some of his skills in a casual way before and it had never went well. The document went into her left boot. Interesting method of storage. Processing her questions, he thought for a chime and then answered them each in turn. "I work at Ruby's most weekdays, though there are some nights when she does not need me. On those nights, I have her permission to work at Brega's, though she prefers it if I tell them that I mainly can be found at the Sanctum. On days when I don't have work in either location, I see if I can volunteer at the local Doctor's Clinic. If you ever need any fixing, please make sure that I am there to service you. The regular Doctor has a demented definition of medical care." He answered truthfully and quietly, blue eyes turning down to watch as she wrote. He carefully read the words, the first two causing something to click in his mind. Web. Weaver. Not her real name, or it just happens to be a rather handy coincidence that coincides with her profession. People person? He furrowed his eyes at that one. Was that a joke, or was she actually a 'people person'? He blinked at it a few times as she handed it to him, the harlot waiting until she put down the pen so he could grab it. He carefully wrote, putting a single line through 'Web' and a small question mark behind 'People Person'. The pen then stood poised, waiting to write something else. Unlike what he had seen from her, he did not actually have a calculated network of contacts. He knew people, but he just recorded information about them and shelved it away for later use. Perhaps it was the same. It felt different, though. Quietly listening as she spoke, the harlot let his eyes wander down to the books of history and politics. Anarchy apparently had different definitions, but they were only briefly touched upon. The main one that this book focused on was the idea of a society without an enforced government. Web quickly covered it, pulling a pipe from her person. He resisted the urge to note that down. He nodded absentmindedly at her words, at the idea of gold, control, economics and so on. His mind wandered to the history of Sunberth, wondering if this was how it had all started. Someone had wanted to control the immense value to be found in the mines and had therefor made a move to take utter control. She then asked him his view and he kept quiet for a few moments longer. He did have an idea of where he would start. He quickly reviewed the resources available to Web. An unknown number of recruits, though an assumed number could be counted from the recent meeting. Wrenmae, Fallon, Web... and the others. Each with a different set of skills. Had Wrenmae been the one to start it? Had Robern been the very first domino to tip over? Had the man come to the same conclusion that Matthew had? Grabbing another blank document, he sat this one equally between himself and Web. He took his time, drawing and writing slowly, ink swirling and dipping across the page. He split it into sections, then labeled it as Sunberth. "In theory, an Anarchy should be a society without a leading force, without a government. One would assume that this is the case with Sunberth, that there is no government or control." He paused, glancing up at her. "However, think outside the box. Don't think of a government in traditional terms, of kings and queens and councils. Break it down even further. In a government, at the very basics, there is a ruling group and a ruled group. Take me. Who, in theory, am I ruled by?" He jotted down a name in one of the many boxes on the page. Ruby. "Take every person in Sunberth and you will find that they have a ruler. Have you noticed? The whores, the murderers, the gangs. Brega, Ruby, the Slavemaster, the Doctor, all the other people who rule some small aspect of this city. Sunberth IS controlled. All of its people ARE ruled. The city is split into a variety of very distinct groups, some of which are even ruled by bigger groups." He put down the pen and steepled his fingers, tilting his head at Web. "Does this trigger any new thought on your part, or is it something you have considered?" He paused, glancing down at the paper, then back at the books. History and politics. The way Sunberth wanted to me. "The anarchy is a lie. Sunberth is very much under rule, but in a way that makes them believe they are truly free."

[Zandelia]

Matthew surprised her with what his actions, thoughts and words and not for the first time she wondered why he had chosen the harlot’s profession as his cover. Oh she was entirely sold on the idea that he took to it was relish, or perhaps a mechanical need to understand it, to comprehend it completely and then move on. He had suggested such an ideology implicitly though she was not sure if had meant to do so. He had decided to take to prostitution and thus had come to Sunberth – the story was from its very beginning largely different from most of the other whore’s stories of woe and abuse. He was a doctor, teacher and now wanted to study politics. She noted there were books upon history amongst them too, their words visible if difficult to read the wrong way around without seeming to do so.

“Yes, Petricious is said to be quite…unique…in his methods. Thankfully I have not had to seek him out yet. I thank you for the offer but cannot help but repeat the old adage of like mentor like mentee” she considered, “though perhaps that would still be better. If I ever get injured I shall seek you out. Hopefully though this will not happen” she twirled her pipe in her fingers slowly as she contemplated his words.

She couldn’t quite see what he had noted down as he had read her own scrawled note in response to his and it frustrated her, she was sure it had been about her but then she had offered the acceptance of curiosity and it was to be expected. She liked to know what was being thought about her but for now let it be and didn’t push the issue beyond the casual observation. It could have been a tactic of his own, she reasoned, to test her as he had done in the tent at that meeting of what might one day become the Scars. His words upon the city and the diagram he had begun to weave however was easily viewed and intended to be so.

He is correct of course and I have long thought upon it and that it was so. Sunberth has its own little leaders but just enough of them to create a morass of confusion and the people under the spell of misinformed opinion she mused to herself as she continued to twirl the pipe in her fingers.

“I can’t but agree with your assessment Matthew, I have long thought it was so and as time has continued and the observations have mounted it seems that the conclusion has merely grown ever more solid,” she responded with interest, “yet now we have a situation where the major players that did control these smaller ones are under threat. They are far from finished but their powers are diminishing it seems. Last I was in Sunberth their rule was absolute if despised. Now…well you can hang a Daggerhand general up and it almost seems like the people accept it as a given thing” she leant into the desk, her chair clattering to the wooden floor and studied the beginnings of the web Matthew had formed.

This was interesting, this was almost how she thought inside the privacy of her own skull – given physical life with the strokes of the quill dipped ink. It was a good start and yet was far from complete – they had much further to go and she had an idea of what sort of direction to take it in. She picked up the quill and drew a few of her own boxes upon the now shared parchment.

“Lets us say that what we say is true, then the logical extension would be to decide which ones of these smaller groups aligned themselves with the larger ones,” she spoke as she wrote both Daggerhand and Sun’s Birth to the outsides of each side of the parchment, “Ruby’s and Brega’s are easy – one to each. We aren’t talking current events here but historical ones as they are the most useful” she thought aloud as she connected the lines together.

“The markets and warehouses have the most autonomy I think as controlling food is too difficult without rebellion, the past of Sunberth shows us that obvious means of control are most reviled and thus challenged. So we can assume they are left alone, at least openly. The smaller gangs that still warren the warehouses could be used but they are far from powerful” she continued, adding the box of ‘smaller gangs’ to the parchment along with the castle commons and warehouses.

“Now information is sometimes said to be power and so we need a spider in there. People need to work and thus we need employment. Ring any bells?” she asked as she passed the quill back to Matthew slowly and wondering if he would pick up on her suggestion.

“Politics is well to the good but history, I think, gives us the answers we might seek. We know Sunberth was a mining town, everyone does. Yet the mines are closed for the most part. Why do you think that is?” she asked softly.

The answer is simple enough I think, it’s because we remember what they represent even if we don’t remember the events clearly. Is he astute enough to go with that idea and take it further? she asked herself.

It was difficult now to see whom was the teacher and whom was the pupil. They both had their ideas and in some ways they seemed to mesh neatly. In others it was still to be seen. Captivating conversation, however, was a rarity in Sunberth and so she was enjoying herself immensely.

“Does Sunberth hate its mages? Or does it hate its past? I think we hate our past more and use mages as the excuse. The past speaks of greater means, even if it was a harder life in some respects. No one likes to look back and think that what they have now is but a relic of a fragment. People desire wealth and prosperity so much that they kill often enough for it here. To me it seems like a cry for help, for someone of something to give them what they want”

“I have seen much of the world and nowhere could be said to be as decrepit as Sunberth, so involved in its own self-destruction. Nyka has scores of stone buildings and yet we have rotting wood. Syliras has the knights and law and we only have blood in the streets. Something has to change or Sunberth will consume itself, so lost in its past, that it forgets to embrace the future” she finished quietly, watching him intently

[Matthew]

Like mentor like mentee, hm? He thought back to his time with the Doctor, curious to if any of his methods had rubbed off on the harlot. They were both men driven by their curiosities, though the Doctor had a darker sort of curiosity than the harlot. Would Matthew ever wander down that road? He wanted to learn everythng that he could, didn't he? What if eventually, all that was left was the darker sort of things? Absentmindedly, almost as if reading Web's thoughts, Matthew slowly turned the small piece of paper that she had gifted him with and faced it toward her, edits and all. He didn't make any other reference to it, or even glance at it. He just showed it to her, apparently for his own odd reasons. He had plenty of them. He focused in on her words, nodding as she added to the theories and concepts they were discussing. He kept still, comfortable in her presence, body remaining like that of a statue. He was like the exact opposite of a hyper-active child who couldn't stop fidgeting. He liked to think he was in control of his body, and therefor had no reason to needlessly move about. His eyes followed hers as they studied the spiderweb he had drawn before her, walking along their path of thought together. "I also think it would help to go one step deeper. Look at every single link and detail. If this is a web, you want to figure out either how to control it, or how to make it collapse so you can replace it with a new one. Ruby and Brega hate each other, that is a link that can be exploited, for instance." He reached forward, drawing another line between the two of them and labeling it with very small carefully drawn letters. He took quite a bit of time to write, but that was only because of a lack of skill. He wanted his script to be neat and easy to read, and that required that he be extremely careful with it. He let her continue, nodding and making small noises to reassure her that he was indeed actually listening and processing the information that was presented to him. He twirled the quill in his fingers, making small notes and lines in a neat manner to keep their little spiderweb up-to-date with new information that was presented. "They hated the mines. In the present, the mines probably represent what was. Or, they could even be completely forgotten at this point, and just not be at all important to an entirely new generation." The harlot put down the quill, clasping his hands together once again and settling his chin on the linked fingers. A cry for help, was it? "Then why not save them?" He gestured down to the map of information in front of them, tilting his head as he glanced from it to her and then back. "I dare suggest that none of these groups actually exist out of fear. These groups exist because, to some level, having a leader or a controlling power is comforting. It gives you some measure of order in the middle of a world consisting of chaos. Sunberth is dangerous, and what is the first thing someone will usually do to survive when they first get here? They will align themselves with one of the many, many groups. You are a group right now, in a sense. Perhaps your best path would be to collapse the web of options, reveal true anarchy, and be the only safe beacon of order for them to run to." He stared at the piece of paper for a few more moments before finally answering the one question and silent suggestion that he had left for the very last. "I will only be in Sunberth as long as is required to fully master my craft. That time is soon. But, I will be available, yes. If you wish to make use of me, then all you have to do is come to the Sanctum and pay the coin to the woman at the front. Ask for Matthew. Buy my wares." He shrugged his broad shoulders, blue eyes glittering with intellect as the wheels turned, processing where this might take him in the future. He had so many people coming to meet him anyways. "My wares are most certainly not the only thing most people assume them to be. My mind enjoys many other challenges."