The Old Gentleman first addressed the matter Ryan had overheard upon arriving — the generous stranger looking for an Extraordinaire's help — and elaborated:
"In his own words, a moment of carelessness has forced him into a significant transaction with parties whose backgrounds and reputations leave something to be desired. Fearing complications, he is seeking someone with Extraordinary abilities to serve as additional insurance.
The requirement: someone capable of, should negotiations break down, helping his people recover the important goods from the other party by force. Payment is fifty pounds regardless of the transaction's outcome. Should complications arise and the goods be recovered successfully, he is willing to double the amount — or more.
For additional details, you can find a man named Finley York at the back of the clock tower in the city center at noon every day this week. He will be in black formal wear, carrying a gold pocket watch.
I should note, however, that I have no personal knowledge of this individual. Whether what he says is true is entirely a matter of your own judgment."
The words had every one of the seven people in the room sitting a little straighter. A guaranteed fifty-pound job was a serious temptation for most, who were only at Sequence 9.
"Ha — I've told you everything I know. Now, let's begin the transactions in the usual order." The Old Gentleman smiled and took his seat.
Ryan didn't give the fifty-pound job much thought. He had no reliable way to evaluate its legitimacy, and being cautious, he'd planned to leave the city the day after filing his report — too soon to wait it out.
He watched the participants begin from the fireplace side, working left to right — some offering goods, some stating needs. Each person spoke once, then passed to the next whether the exchange had been completed or not.
Ryan quickly realized that for someone who had only been an Extraordinaire for three days, even following the conversation was a struggle. Many things existed in the big lug's memory only as names, with little context behind them — and what context there was might not even be reliable.
"I have some sun-domain talismans of my own making for sale." The soft-spoken man held up a handful of thin gold discs, roughly the size of an infant's palm.
The unfamiliar script, symbols, and markings etched on the surface caught Ryan's attention. Even at this distance, there was something about them — a faint warmth, as though sunlight were touching his skin.
Sun was the domain of the Eternal Blazing Sun, the deity worshipped in the Kingdom of Intis. Because the Eternal Blazing Sun's Church and the Storm Church of the Kingdom of Ruen were in profound conflict, Beyonders of this type were exceptionally rare here. If this man were discovered by a Punisher, his fate would be far grimmer than most unsanctioned Beyonders.
"How do these talismans work?" Ryan asked.
"Ah — first, pronounce the activation word 'sun' in Ancient Hermes, and channel your spiritual power into it. Within three seconds, throw it toward wherever you want it to take effect. If you've been possessed by a vengeful spirit, you can also simply hold it. These talismans cause no harm to the living."
The man blinked at the question — he hadn't expected something quite so basic — but gave a thorough explanation.
"What does channeling spiritual power mean?" Ryan followed with an even more fundamental question.
Spiritual power can be channeled manually? Doesn't it just get consumed automatically when you use an ability? The confusion was plain in his voice, even with his face hidden behind the mask. A few people couldn't help but laugh.
"If you don't know how to meditate, then after you speak the activation word, you'll sense your spiritual power — the same way you do when using an ability. The difference is that a talisman won't draw from your spiritual power automatically the way your abilities do. You have to direct it yourself and feed it into the talisman deliberately."
Noticing Ryan was a genuine novice, the man explained again — and helpfully added, "The Ancient Hermes pronunciation for 'sun' sounds like this."
He demonstrated, and Ryan repeated it back, haltingly.
"Each talisman is two pounds. They remain viable for one month — after that, the spiritual power dissipates and they become inert."
He glanced at Ryan again, the implication clear.
Somewhat surprised that something this expensive also had an expiration date, Ryan nonetheless bought one. It was the first Extraordinary-infused object he'd encountered, apart from a potion — and he might actually need it. He spent the two pounds.
He slipped the thin disc into his pocket — warm as actual sunlight — and began committing the Ancient Hermes word to memory as he watched the rest of the trading unfold.
The man looked around at the others, and when no further interest emerged, signaled the next person to speak.
The next participant simply shook their head in silence. The person beside the talisman-seller spoke up instead:
"I'm looking for an Extraordinary weapon — anyone with leads? Starting at ten pounds."
The man's voice was low and graveled. It sounded oddly familiar. After a moment's thought, Ryan realized it resembled the voice of the person who had sold the big lug his primary potion ingredient. The memory was fragmented and old enough that he couldn't be certain.
Maybe I could ask around about the next formula in the Assassin line.
That had been part of his reason for attending in the first place — he just hadn't expected much from it.
The room fell quiet for a moment, as his need and the next woman Extraordinaire's request both went unanswered. Then it was Ryan's turn.
He produced the cigarette tin he'd been turning over and over like a worry stone, displayed the deep crimson gelatin inside, and addressed the room:
"I came across this on a corpse by chance. I can tell it's unusual. Does anyone here know what it is?"
To his slight disappointment, even the Old Gentleman only shook his head.
"I know only that this appears when an Extraordinaire dies. Beyond that, I can't say."
"Then how should I handle it? I'd rather not draw the Church's attention by disposing of it carelessly." Ryan asked, plainly.
"Just throw it far away, Big Guy." Beer said offhandedly.
"Far enough to keep the Church from tracing it back to me?"
"Most likely. The farther you throw it, the longer it takes the Church to find it, and the less likely they are to connect it to you." Beer expanded.
Seeing no objections from anyone else, Ryan pressed on.
"So if I've attracted the Church's attention, moving to a distant city is enough to be safe?"
"Provided what you did isn't too serious. But they'll certainly telegraph whatever information they have about you to other cities." The Old Gentleman said.
Ryan nodded to show he understood, then shifted direction.
"I need the follow-up formula for the Assassin potion. Anyone have leads?"
In the silence that followed — just as Ryan was about to give up — the man with the graveled, low voice spoke.
"I know a lead that probably won't be much use, but I'll share it for free. A few years back I ran into an Extraordinaire whose abilities bore a resemblance to an Assassin's — but she was clearly above Sequence 9. You could try heading up the Tasok River and seeing what you find. She left Avignon in that direction."
The more Ryan heard, the more it rang a bell.
"Didn't you say something almost exactly like this when the big lug bought materials from you a year ago?"