By the time Elliot had conquered the return hike up Madison’s infamously steep river trail, Main Street bustled with farmers. The midnight caravan had arrived, and it exceeded all of Eliott’s expectations. It was full of cheery, beautiful people spreading a thrilling message. A Fortune Market was to be held in Caesarea! In only six day’s time! Elliot’s understanding of pan-continental economics was abysmal. This is what he did know.

Rich people liked to travel. Rich people, for the most part, did not like to feel any less rich whilst they traveled. Rich people had the power to make everyone else do exactly as they wanted, and they exercised this power at every possible opportunity. This is why Fortune Markets existed. In order to entertain foreign guests, city state governments would host and subsidize spontaneous trade events. For farmers living on coins under the table, these surprise markets were quite good fortune. Hence the name. Elliot had known men to travel hundreds of miles on a day’s notice to attend a Fortune Market.

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Elliot was disappointed. He had quite enjoyed the little mystery of Tommy’s disappearance, and he expected his fun would be over now. The market caravan would clean out the little town of Madison, and he would have to choose between remaining behind with the evidence and following the POIs.

“Welcome!” A scholarly man had singled him out in the bustle. Elliot’s eyebrows scrambled up his forehead. He was flattered.

“Well good day to you too!” he replied.

“Will you tell me your name, please?” the scholar’s friendly eyes bore into Elliot’s mind, and the answer burst forth from Elliot’s lips. He hadn’t even had time to consider.

“Elliot Gunn!”

Elliot wrestled for control of his own mind, and the scholar recorded his answer on a wrist mounted notepad.

“Thank you Elliot! My name is Dexter. Welcome aboard!”