Livingston

“... is open for business!”

My eyes shot open, the cool night air is thick with Mother’s lights, like a swarm of glow worms massing for war. The remains of our campfire are now a meek pile of embers and charred wood. From outside my limited cave view, a warm orange hue washes over the ground from a distant source.

I struggle to sit up, my wounds were still numb from the healing products. The rest of my body is equally dead after sleeping heavily on the cave floor. Slowly coaxing blood and feeling into my limbs, I manage to roll onto my front, and straight on top of Piia’s unconscious mass. She wakes with instant alertness, her imp dagger bidding good morning to my stomach.

“It’s me, it's Seth.” I whisper in her face before she opens my abdomen.

“Get off me hairless one, sleep is the only pleasure I seek.”

Does she think I am making a pass at her?

“I heard a noise and there is a bright light out there.” I indicate through the hazy glow of Mother towards tungsten wash.

I lean back, giving Piia her personal space to sit up and peer out the cave. She kicks into survival gear and rises like an assassin, dagger at the ready.

“Any sound from the Guardian?”

“No, just a strange… announcement.” My eyes adjusting to the low light see her concerned face.

“Announcement? Explain.” She orders.

“It was odd, I may have dreamt it. Let’s just go investigate.”

“Well move your Daemonic cattle, he blocks the way.” I kiss my teeth at the comment. Cane’s giant rump is parked in our crawl space between the dangling roots. A meaty wall for our little Helm’s deep is perfect for slumbering, but a terrible door.

I prod his thick leathery skin. “Cane, move out the way.” His heavy breathing continues, giving no indication that he had heard or felt my probing. I get closer and shake the pink mass awkwardly from my low position, his great bulk barely wavering.

“Cane you fat lard, get out the way.” I command and push harder.

Runes appear in my periphery, I concentrate on the symbols.

Tamed cattle of Seth the Shepherd

Status: Healthy (Charmed)

“My ability says he’s ‘charmed’?” Surprisingly I wasn’t alarmed by this, the unease I felt from being startled awake had left.

Leaving me somewhat relaxed, mellow, pretty chill.

Was I being charmed?

“There is a strange magic in the world around us, this is not Mother’s presence.” Piia says while severing the hanging roots to widen our passage.

I’m mesmerised as the imp dagger slices through the knotted roots like they’re made of foam.

“You should probably not sleep with that in your hand.” I point out.

“By the Mother, do you think it is dangerous?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good, it will stop you trying to get into my bedroll.” She giggles, returning the blade to her satchel.

“It wasn’t like that.” I blurt out.

Piia shushes me and we crawl out and around Cane’s arse to see what had caused our rude awakening.

The warm light was spilling into the clearing from a large carnival tent that sat amongst the ferns. Its peak is hidden amongst the canopy with long vertical stripes of white and red canvas streaking down, several fully grown Guardians could have had a comfortable party inside. Decorated with hanging lanterns and a large sign that hung over the entrance. The over-embellished sign was difficult to read at any distance, before I could decipher the words a trumpeting voice shouts into the dark surrounding forest.

“Livingston Emporium of rare and fine antiquities is open for business!”

Bewildered, I turn to face Piia, who was equally shocked by what lay before us.

“An emporium? Who sets up shop in the middle of a forest? Is this normal?” I asked.

“I have never seen this in my many seasons. What is an emporium?”

“It's just a pretentious name for a store. Shall we take a look inside?” The voice of curiosity is whispering in my ear.

Equally intrigued, Piia nods in agreement. “Mother watch over us.” She says and approaches the shop entrance. Wooden posts holding metallic lanterns mark the path towards the shop entrance, as we tread along the illuminated way we start to hear the sound of a soft melody playing within. The smell of incense and fragrances fills the air and coaxes us in.

I dip my head first through the canvas flap to reveal the emporium's wonders.

The large tent offers spacious real estate, which the shop owner has crammed with a staggering variety of assortments. Wooden chests, tables, hangers, hooks and barrels are overflowing with garments, weapons, armour, trinkets, jewellery, antiques, potions and more. Every colour of the visible spectrum can be checked off from the diverse collection of foreign materials used to construct the products for sale and the exotic animal parts hanging from the walls and contained in vials.

A large iridescent mithril blue suit of armour, made for a fat, midget knight, stood to the side of the entrance. Wielding a round shield, that would cover the wearer's entire frame, and a flail with multi-coloured acorns hanging off its chains.

The suit pulled back its helmet visor to reveal a tortoise head with one large round eye.

“Welcome patrons to Livingstons Emporium, please browse freely and approach the counter when wishing to make a purchase.” The cyclops-tortoise-chode-knight abruptly slams its visor down and remains motionless.

Piia and I shared a perplexed look.

“Thank you, sir Knight.” I say.

The tortoise’s arm flew up, pulling back the visor. “You're welcome.” Then slams it shut again.

I shrug at Piia. “Shall we have a look around?”.

We shimmy down a tight alley of protruding objects, nearly taking my eye out on the horn of a beast's skull suspended along the path. A table mounted with a pile of rusting chainmail and trinkets blocks the narrow route, we manage to bypass by crawling underneath.

Standing, I notice a breathtaking painting of a gorgeous scantily clad woman bathing in a pond fed by a flowing waterfall. The gushing water was visibly moving as if an invisible artist was continuously applying strokes of paint. The woman was washing her auburn hair with her slim toned back facing me. I was entranced, levels of lust I haven’t felt since adolescence raced through my blood. The painted Goddess of my dreams, as if hearing my pounding heart, turns and reveals more of her divine body.

Smiling at my engrossed state, she seductively beckons me over with a wave.

I sprint forward, careening through a stack of helmets and collide with Piia who was also rapidly rushing the large framed painting.

“Hey, she’s mine!” I yell at my friend, her face in a similar enraged state.

“She? It was clearly a striking Satyr and he was mine!” She screams back.

The anger and lust evaporate in moments, leaving us both sprawled on the floor and staring at each other.

Piia begins to laugh “Your little man was standing like a fully grown tree over a painting of a Satyr.” I can’t help but laugh with her.

“It was a woman, the most beautiful human woman I have ever seen.”

“It is in fact your heart's true desire.” An articulated voice states aloud from behind.

We both whip our heads around to find a sharp lanky gentleman towering above us.

“If your heart was located in one's love regions of course.” His long face was accessorised with a twirling black moustache and donned by a fine rabbit fur top hat. The tweed three piece suit was tailored perfectly to his elongated form.

We both stood and grasped the full height of the gentleman, he was roughly eight feet tall. Offering his hand to us, he introduces himself.

“Welcome patrons of Livingston’s Emporium, I am Montgomery Livingston the Third.”

“Seth, and this is Piia.” We shake hands, his long fingers curling and enveloping mine.

“Well met travellers of Silva, I must apologise for the artwork, the workmanship of that individual piece is truly perfected and tends to literally charm the garments off fine folks such as yourselves”

“Is it for sale?” We say simultaneously, the effects still lingering within.

“No, it’s exhibited for visual appreciation and distraction, as you gracefully displayed.” He said with a Cheshire cat smile that never faltered or faded.

“Why would you want a piece of art to distract customers?” Piia asks.

“Ah the ignorance of the dispossessed, I must say Lady Satyr your fair hair has a lustrous and mesmerising shine.” She blushes at the compliment.

This fella reeks of pompous arrogance.

Livingston continues. “In this world of multifaceted individuals, far few carry such high quality as yourself, Lady Satyr,” - His eyes flick over me quickly before returning to Piias. - “Alas, barbarians and plebs amass the majority. Hence ‘One’s True Lust’, distracting said individuals, ergo permitting Servant Tranqit,” - he gestures to the short tortoise knight silently standing behind us (When did he get there?). - “to promptly dispose of unpleasant guests before a major ruckus ensues.” Livingston bellows.

He is a dodgy fella that loves the sound of his own voice.

“I see.” Piia says a little confused by the middle-class jargon he uses.

“I own and vend copious amounts of useful items and trinkets for any and all occasions. On display are countless sought after goods, ranging throughout the rarity spectrum. How about a woodland cloak for you Lady Satyr, woven from the leaves of a Gollock bush by real Inta masters. Far more effective in camouflaging that tempting figure of yours from molesting eyes than regular moss in the fur could ever be.” Livingston pulls the leafy shroud off a clothes peg, where a variety of dark leather gowns, red scaly frocks, sparkling silk scarfs and luxurious velvet gloves are also hung.

He drapes, without permission, the shroud over Piia's shoulders.

“It is so soft and comfortable, like I am wearing a cloud. Oh my Mother, Seth, look at all these pockets on the inside.” She says while rummaging through the forest shroud.

“A person’s comfort should be second to nothing. Now my darling Piia, centre stage. Imagine a terrifying fiend is on your hooves. Try to disappear.” He directs Piia with that unwavering, car salesman smile.

“Disappear? Do you want me to hide somewhere in the Emporium?” She says, still finding more pockets in the cloak.

“No, my dear, imagine. Imagine oneself in the feral wilderness. Fiendish miscreants, goaded by your comely frame are near. Crouch down and wrap the Inta’s masterwork around you.”

Great, he's a creepy pervert as well.

Piia, looking a little embarrassed, does as he says.

The effect was instant. As she pulls the material around her, the Gollock leaves shuffle and shift. Resulting in a perfect bush that looks as if it had been planted in the middle of Livingston’s store a few years ago.

I was stunned, my brain couldn’t fathom it was Piia under there.

“Tell her boy, tell her what you see.” Livingston lightly slaps the back of my head in that annoying manner grandparents have. Did he just call me boy? I glare at him before answering.

“You look like a real bush Piia. It would be perfect for Silva.” The merchant may be obnoxious, but his wares were incredible.

She jumps up in excitement. “Truly?” She says, looking down in wonder at the thriving leaves.

“I’ll show you?” I say. Piia removes the cloak and before she can pass it over, Livingston snatches it away.

“Years of work have gone into the manifestation of this item, ergo the price reflects the quality.” He says while folding the Inta cloak over his arm and then begins walking through the store. Piia eagerly follows his long strides, I begrudgingly stalk after them.

Continuing their conversation about the cloak and price, my focus drowns them out when I notice a glass display with several labelled items within.

The display cabinet has a large plaque on top, it reads ‘Throwaway items (Single-use)’.

The interior was magenta velvet lining with separated sections that formed a wooden grid, under a thick glass casing. Each item was housed in its section with individual metal plaques listing the item's name. There was no correlation, from what I could tell, except for their apparent limited use. They were so randomly different from one another that they reminded me of that miscellaneous draw found in every household. You could find some of the same items in those draws as could in this very display case.

Dice, cards, string, juggling balls, a leather pouch, a thimble, a needle and thread. The items themselves hadn’t grabbed my attention, but their name plaques.

Dice of Multiplication, Uncuttable String, Bag of Screams, Instant Repair Kit and Jugglers Balls. Well, that last one isn’t so unusual.

“Seth!” Piia shouts in distress from down an avenue of sprawling, poorly-organised wares.

My stomach drops from her call, why did I leave her alone with that sketchy man? I always get distracted by loot.

“Piia!” I call out with alarm.

I try rushing in their direction but piles of junk and sharp weapons slow me down. I trip over a spear of obsidian glass and stumble towards a glass cabinet full of shining crystals and expensive antiques. I tip my weight at the last second and aim for a plant pot housing a yellow candy floss bush. The wispy soft leaves break my fall like a giant bean bag, and then a cold feeling of depression consumes me.

I’m pathetic, I’ll never make it out of these woods alive. A terrifying beast will eventually get my scent and hunt me until I'm exhausted, then it’ll cut me down and eat me alive. What if we run into a patrol of Daemons and they flay my human skin, what an awful way to go. It’s all hopeless, I’m never going to see my family again. Streams of tears were down my numb cheek. It’s going to happen, I’m going to die and I may as well just do it myself, get it over with fast. I try to draw my blade, but laying down in the yellow cloud was too awkward an angle. I stand up and drew it out, placing the cool metal against my own throat.

What the hell am I doing?

I pull the sword away from me and collect my thoughts. I turn slowly on the spot and stare at the yellow bush. Did that plant just enchant me to kill myself? What a crazy method to protect itself, holy Mother it almost worked.

“Seth! Help!” Piia cries with desperation.