Sworded Affair

"Well, how do I put this? You\'re familiar with the saying, \'from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs\'?"

"I\'ve read Marx," Noah confirmed, a note of confusion in his voice as to where this was going.

"That was the basic idea behind the Gallery, of creating a single location for England\'s magical community to buy and sell their goods. Somewhere on neutral territory where transactions could happen, free of the typical socio-political posturing that often paralysed attempts at cooperation across the history of the Empire. Simple enough in theory, but logistically difficult. There are, at best, a few thousand practitioners in the country at any given time. Of that, only a small minority will be in the market on either end; most will be immersed in research, plying the social circuit, exploring ancient ruins and so on. That leaves maybe a couple dozen people looking to exchange goods and services on any given day of the week. You can see the problem here?"

"That\'s not even enough footfall to justify a supermarket, let alone all of this," Noah realised, waving a hand at the surroundings.

"Exactly," Elizabeth confirmed. "Everyone knows the benefit of having a common marketplace as a hub of commerce, but no practitioner is going to bother setting up shop and spending time manning it, when they might get a few sales a month. That\'s where the magic comes in. Those who enter the Gallery come with certain intentions; the path they take reflects their desires and brings them to when they can be fulfilled. It might be the same day, a week into the future or a century in the past; if someone has what you need and you have the payment they want, you get the opportunity to exchange."

How does this affect my timed quest? Emma wondered.

[Subjective time experienced: you have six and a half days from your perspective to get everything you need.]

"Well it\'s a good thing we made a shopping list then," Noah joked, patting his shirt pocket lightly.

He was something of an outlier, wearing business casual while travelling alongside a magical girl and a sentient suit of armor; though Emma couldn\'t tell who was closer to the norm, as there was nobody else visible.

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Wait, weren\'t there queues of shoppers just a moment ago?

[The illusion fades once you learn the truth; a precaution in case mortals stumble upon the Gallery.]

"We all have things to buy today, so this is where we split up," Elizabeth agreed. "Once you have everything you need, let\'s reconvene here at the entrance. The Gallery has no map, follow your heart and all shall be well."

With that final explanation, she turned on her heel and headed into the nearest tent, the one selling food, and vanished in a puff of blue smoke once she crossed the tarpaulin threshold.

"Oof!" Noah staggered, barely keeping himself upright as Saint transferred herself onto his shoulder by means of a flying tackle. "I\'m glad I put some points into strength; guess you\'re with me today then."

Emma found herself mildly concerned as Noah staggered into the distance, his sense of balance upset by a remarkably heavy cat.

[He\'ll be fine. Scholomance donated him a few items, enough to keep him alive at least.]

"Right," Emma nodded. "Looks like it\'s just you and me again huh?"

Sir Bearington chortled, the sound rustling the leaves by his feet, before starting to move unprompted. Mindful of Elizabeth\'s warning, Emma let him do as he pleased; this was her first time here, so his guess was as good as any. The result was a slow walk down the length of the Gallery, passing numerous tents and log cabins; all of which looked completely empty, devoid of any inhabitants or belongings. The signposts outside the tents remained, covered in strange symbols that reminded Emma of both hieroglyphs and lines of code simultaneously. There were words on them before, Emma knew, but none came to mind despite her best attempts at recalling them.

Well that\'s not creepy in the slightest.

Reaching the end of the path, Sir Bearington sniffed again, before doubling back, eventually reaching the small stream that bisected the entire compound. Sticking his head in the water, her mount resurfaced seconds later, a fat salmon struggling in his jaws.

Maybe I should have picked a route, Emma corrected herself, though she didn\'t stop Sir Bearington from eating, or from going back for a second and third course.

Eventually, even his stomach could hold no more, and Emma deemed it a good time to move on. Taking a second look at the signposts, the previous symbols had been replaced with crudely drawn smiley faces, one per sign. The log cabins had turned pink, but were otherwise unchanged. Still empty though, always empty; though now that she looked, Emma could see dots on her minimap, green to denote their friendly nature and one inside each cabin and tent.

Another illusion? Emma wondered, seeing a similarity to the Third Prince back in Scholomance.

Deciding she\'d dawdled enough, Emma directed Sir Bearington to make for the largest log cabin; conveniently directly opposite him. His first step towards the cabin turned the logs brown again; every step taken afterwards aged them by a decade. Twenty steps later, Sir Bearington entered the ruin of what had once been a cabin, the wood long rotted away to leave a single table behind made of glass and steel, upon which perched a massive blue bird.

"A customer? Finally, I was starting to think the spell was broken."

The oversized parrot warbled; standing up straight and puffing itself up; showcasing iridescent blue feathers and height greater than Emma herself, thanks to the additional boost granted by the table.

"What can I do for you today?"

[Magus Macaw - Level 35 Life Binder]