Unsettling, the reports went against the curve I was aiming for.

The nature of life was to go against the expected, but even this was too far for one's own liking.

Throughout the building men scattered like pigeons in the wind.

Reports in hands, ravens with information scattering from hands that trembled with anxiety and herbalist tonics.

Most men who took the job of trader would soon grow an addiction to the herbs that sped up intellect and charisma. Only to become completely void after a few years of addiction. It was a sad reality, but the reality nonetheless.

Hold!

Sell!

Buy!

Dammit why didn't you buy or sell sooner!

One second, one margin is all financial ruin needs to spawn!

Once the beast has been created, he will take years to defeat!

What's worse than death?

Taxes!

Worse than taxes?

Stop asking silly questions, nothing is worse than taxes! Now! Get back to the market!

A bustling was in the air.

An anxiety filled the men of numbers.

The auction house was back online.

If only we had more time, I grumbled to myself as I took in the air of chaos around me.

It had been the longest down time in recorded history. A whole twenty-one grueling days. The next longest market take-down had been when our ancestors, the first adventurers entered the land. With their arrival came weapons and gear that could never be farmed, thus an influx of money from the powerful and established houses of the Original Realm.

Using this as an opportunity to grow and even breed with the new adventurers.

But that's a history of how we came to be, not of the numbers of the market.

What matters now is that we are back online. Every adventurer worth their gear and map has been waiting for one of two things: to buy or to sell.

Either they have accumulated a horde of gold from quests, bounties, or monster drops.

Or they've accumulated a stash of items they wish to sell at a high rate, speculating that the new opening might come with a chance to grow rich.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The rumors were of a new taxing system that would be implemented, that was why everything went down. This was wrong.

A buyout caused the market to twist in a way that the ones behind the scenes, the ones who control everything like a game didn't agree with; this was also wrong.

The true reason for the market being down?

The honest truth is more mundane but that much more of a reason why the public couldn't know.

The realm had forced it.

Only just allowing us to go back online.

Walking to and from the main trading area known as the bullpen, because that's where the fighting is done, I made my way back into my office to rest my mind.

Only to find a note inscribed in crude letters.

Meeting room now.

With a sigh I collected myself and walked down the hall, past a flight of stairs and into the oval meeting hall restricted to only partners, owners, and me.

Mercy and his men had just spent the last few days farming the newly acquired heroic dungeon, South of the Main City.

After enough of their own upgrades, they sent left over gear and wanted the auction house manipulators to supply them with the most ridiculous of prices.

This was new, never before seen or equipped gear after all.

Novelty sells as well as bullshit in our realm.

The Items were only slight upgrades that went for markups that would make me, a cheap man, whither and die.

But our realm was warping.

Tough times required strength, and strength came from gear.

A small rare or epic upgrade would once, that is if you sold your current piece, cost you, maybe 10 more gold for a blue and upwards of 30-50 for a purple item.

Now, those prices have gone up double since last year. A whole 100% rise was ludicrous.

Men no longer held housing or other ventures, there was no gold in their banks, it was all worn on their body.

This meant bandits and pkers were even happier with the times.

A large bandit camp had even been reported by the mountain path. A scary one that operated like trained professionals and not a pack of wild dogs.

Entering the oval room, I was met by old faces resting in leather bound chairs that were the result of a month of a leather worker's time and the most expensive pelts on our realm. They laid back joyfully sipping from their glasses a wine or herbal tea that was cultivated in the highest peak of the West Indies, shipped by boat across the Bleak Sea, then carried in a caravan by a high guild who owed them allegiance.

Each finger and neck held necklaces and rings of not just wealth and opulence, but of power unleashed.

In this world true wealth is a monstrous thing.

Mercy being an example of what a talented warrior can become when equipped with the highest gear in the realm. These old men could battle amongst the high guild members solely on the stats provided by their two rings and one necklace slot.

Nerves shot up my spine, as I waited to be called upon.

Boy, what do you think?

The older council member said as he finished sipping from his moonlight glass which twinkled with engraved gems on each side, as if adding to the drink by being rich and loud and opulent.

What do you think of the chaos? He laughed and the other men followed.

What do I think?

What I think is that this council and their stronghold on the market is killing the realm. That if we wish to fight we must worry less on the stake, and more on making sure our adventurers are not under geared or destitute.

But what I said was this:

The prices set at 10x are still selling out. Anything put up by an adventurer that we believe will sell for more in the coming months is being bought out quicker than it can be listed.

Everything is going according to plans.

Even though I had hoped it wouldn't have...

Good, good. Make sure it stays that way boy. You may go now.

And with those small words I was sent out of the room like a monkey who knows one trick.

Out to the battlefield that was the marketplace.

A frenzy could be heard as I entered the halls.

What was all the commotion?

Making my way into the bullpen I was met by frantic faces. I grabbed a trader and asked him what was going on.

It's The Path!

They've found a new reserve of dragonscale ore deep in the Dwarven Valley.

And...

And well..

The trader stopped as if scared of his own information.

And what. Spit it out man.

With a breath and a catching of his spirits, he said.

And well Sir, they are set up outside a small village giving it away….

Fuckin hell…