Chapter 4: The Order's Inner Workings
Pluton sat in the dimly lit chamber, surrounded by the Order's members. Archon, the leader, nodded in approval. "Well done, Pluton. You've proven your worth. From now on, you'll be assisting Davie, our youngest and most talented member."
Davie smiled, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. "I'm a Researcher and Courier, Pluton. I gather information, negotiate with our sponsors, and... facilitate the exchange of knowledge."
Pluton's eyes widened as he realized Davie's role was more complex than he had imagined.
Archon continued, "Davie has proven himself to be an asset to our organization. His skills in cryptography, linguistics, and diplomacy are impressive, especially considering his young age."
Davie's face flushed with pride as Archon handed him a small, intricately carved box. "Your next mission, Davie. Communicate with our sponsors in the eastern provinces. They require... persuasion to continue their support."
Pluton watched as Davie accepted the box, his mind racing with questions. What kind of organization was this? What secrets did they keep?
As if reading his thoughts, Archon leaned forward. "Our libraries, Pluton, are not just repositories of knowledge. They're hubs of information, relaying messages and secrets across the land. Davie's role in the library was not just to keep books, but to trade and sell knowledge."
Pluton's eyes widened as the scope of the Order's operations became clear. He was now a part of something much larger than he had ever imagined.
"Come, Pluton," Davie said, standing up. "We have work to do. Our first mission together, and I'll show you the ropes."
With that, Pluton followed Davie into the shadows, ready to face whatever lay ahead.
Pluton's heart raced with anticipation as he followed Davie through the labyrinthine corridors of the Order's headquarters. The dim torchlight flickered against the stone walls, casting eerie shadows that danced around them. Pluton couldn't shake the feeling that every step he took brought him deeper into a world of secrets and intrigue.
Davie led Pluton into a small, cluttered room tucked away in a forgotten corner of the library. Piles of scrolls and manuscripts covered every surface, and the air was thick with the scent of old parchment. Davie motioned for Pluton to take a seat at a worn wooden table, while he rummaged through the stacks of documents.
"Welcome to my domain," Davie said with a wry smile as he finally found what he was looking for—a map of the eastern provinces, marked with cryptic symbols and annotations. "This is where the real work happens."
Pluton watched in fascination as Davie began to explain the intricacies of their mission. Their goal was to secure the support of influential figures in the eastern provinces, ensuring the continued flow of resources and information to the Order. It was a delicate balance of diplomacy, persuasion, and sometimes outright manipulation.
"As Researcher and Courier, it's my job to gather intelligence on our targets and devise strategies to win them over," Davie explained, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "But it's also your job, Pluton, to learn the ropes and become an indispensable member of our team."
Pluton nodded eagerly, eager to prove himself worthy of the trust placed in him by Archon and his fellow members of the Order. He listened intently as Davie outlined their plan of action, which involved a combination of covert meetings, coded messages, and subtle acts of persuasion.
Their first target was a wealthy merchant known for his influence in the eastern provinces. He controlled vast resources and had connections to powerful political figures. Securing his support would not only ensure a steady stream of funding for the Order but also open doors to other potential allies.
But convincing the merchant would not be easy. He was known to be shrewd and suspicious of outsiders, especially those who sought to undermine his authority. It would require finesse and cunning to gain his trust and persuade him to align himself with the Order's cause.
Over the next few days, Pluton and Davie immersed themselves in their mission, pouring over maps, deciphering coded messages, and strategizing their approach. They spent hours poring over the merchant's background, studying his habits and weaknesses, and devising a plan to exploit them to their advantage.
As they worked, Pluton couldn't help but marvel at Davie's expertise. He was a master of cryptography, able to crack even the most complex codes with ease. His knowledge of linguistics allowed him to communicate fluently in multiple languages, making it easier to navigate the diverse cultures of the eastern provinces. And his diplomatic skills were unmatched, able to charm even the most skeptical of adversaries with his quick wit and easy charm.
But Davie was more than just a skilled operative—he was also a mentor to Pluton, patiently guiding him through the intricacies of their mission and imparting his wisdom along the way. He taught Pluton how to read between the lines of a coded message, how to interpret the subtle nuances of body language, and how to use words as weapons to sway the opinions of others.
As they prepared to put their plan into action, Pluton felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was it—the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to prove himself as a valuable member of the Order. He squared his shoulders and steeled himself for the challenges ahead, ready to face whatever obstacles stood in their way.
. . .
The dimly lit tavern was a hive of activity, the air thick with the smell of smoke and ale. Patrons huddled in corners, their faces shrouded in shadows. Pluton, dressed in a crisp black suit and white gloves, stood behind Davie, his eyes fixed on the merchant.
The merchant, a portly man with a thick beard and a gold earring, sat at a wooden table, his cronies flanking him like guard dogs. He eyed Davie and Pluton warily, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Davie, resplendent in a tailored black coat with a red vest and a silver tie pin, smiled charmingly as he extended a hand. "Merchant Roven, a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
Roven's gaze flicked to Pluton, then back to Davie. "I wasn't expecting...company," he said gruffly.
"Ah, my butler, Pluton," Davie said, waving a hand dismissively. "He's here to ensure our...transaction is conducted with the utmost discretion."
Pluton bowed slightly, his eyes never leaving the merchant.
Roven snorted. "I don't need some fancy-pants butler watching my every move."
Davie chuckled. "Ah, but Pluton is more than just a butler. He's a...silent observer. Aren't you, Pluton?"
Pluton nodded, his expression neutral.
Roven's eyes narrowed. "What do you want, Davie? You're not here to make small talk, I'm sure."
Davie leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Let's just say we have a...mutual interest. One that requires...cooperation."
Roven snorted. "You mean you want something from me. What is it?"
Davie's smile never faltered. "Oh, just a small favor. A...token of your support."
Roven's gaze turned suspicious. "What kind of support?"
Davie's eyes locked onto the merchant's, his voice low and persuasive. "The kind that will benefit both our...organizations."
As Roven hesitated, Davie's hand suddenly flashed to his revolver, spinning it on his finger before firing a silent bullet spell at a nearby bird perched on a windowsill. The bird let out a soft squawk as it fell to the ground, its eyes frozen in a glassy stare.
Roven's eyes widened in shock. "What the...?"
Davie's smile was cold. "Just a little demonstration, merchant. That bird was a spy, a rat. I'm sure you understand the importance of...discretion."
Roven's face paled, his eyes darting to Pluton, who stood motionless behind Davie.
"Ah, I see," Roven said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I understand."
Davie's smile returned, warm and charming. "Excellent. I knew we could come to an...understanding."
As they negotiated, Pluton remained silent, his eyes fixed on the merchant, his presence a reminder of the power and influence that lay behind Davie's words.