I ran to the Skara Brae bank as fast as I could. It was near dusk. Hearding was there, as he often is, talking with friends. I asked him if he would meet me at Best Dressed Britannian in a few minutes. Being the agreeable sort of chap he is, Hearding said he would.

I ran up towards Rivendell, where Talyn the Assassin looks for unwitting player-slayers looking for an easy victim. She then stabs them with her deadly poison, and watches them twist in pain, and sometimes run off, but more often cry "Ugghgh!" I asked her if she would come with me. She said no. I asked her again, and told her that I had a tale of mystery and intrigue and conspiracy for her. She said she'd be right there.

It is important to be a salesman.

Hearding was already at Best Dressed Britannian when Talyn and I arrived. I brought the two of them back into the Corner Room with me, and told Hearding to get into the armoire.

"Why would I want to do that?" he asked.

"Hearding. Don't ask; just do. Please? This is important." Hearding knew by looking at my face that I wasn't joking. He *sigh*ed and climbed into the armoire. Just before I closed the doors around him, I said, "When I get the door closed, pull the string. Then, move out of the way." A few moments after I closed the door, I heard a <kathunk!> and opened the door again for Talyn. She went into the armoire much easier than Hearding did; I didn't even have to lean against the doors to get them to shut. When I was sure Talyn was out of the way, I climbed into the armoire. With my knees at my chin, I shut my eyes tightly and clenched my teeth in an effort to ready myself for the upcoming drop. I pulled the string, and then I was with my friends.

Monroe had been busy making nice things for the basement. He had sewn together pieces of cloth and strategically placed them on the hard earthen floor as a makeshift rug. He placed the lanterns in different corners of the room and lit them. He had made himself a bed of furs with some woolen blankets. He also tailored himself decent clothes to wear: A cloak, a pair of thigh boots, a fancy shirt, and a baldric, each a different color. The eclectic look, I supposed.

"Janey! Why didn't you tell me Monroe was alive!?" Hearding heartily shook Monroe's hand and then sat on a nearby stool.

"I just found out myself. I have called both of you here tonight because Monroe is going to tell us a story." I pulled one of the blankets off Monroe's bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and sat in front of Hearding, legs crossed. I used his shins for back support.

"A story?" Talyn grabbed a blanket and sat next to me. "What kind of a story? A *good* story?"

"This is where the murder and intrigue comes in, Talyn," I told her.

"How many dead?" Talyn's eyes twinkled as she asked Monroe this question.

"Too many, girl." Monroe told her. "Far too many." This answer seemed to satisfy Talyn. Monroe sat on a chair facing us, took a swig of ale, lit his pipe, and began.

"I am originally from Cove. I ran a shop there, until the recession hit, and I was forced to close. I moved to Minoc, and opened a shop there. I made enough money to keep food on my table and a roof over my head, but not much else. See, most folks in that town are miners, who don't much care about their outfits, being in dusty caves all day.

"I figured that if I was going to stay in business, I would have to find something special to separate my shop from the rest of the tailor shops in Britannia, and begin a trade with the other shops. That's when I commenced work on the formula for my green cloth. I toiled on it day and night, searching the forest for suitable leaves and herbs to use as dyes. One day, I knew I had it. Beautiful Green! It was dark… so very dark. A green like this had never been seen in all of Sosaria! I ran to tell my weaver, Colin, that I had perfected my recipe."

Monroe drew on his pipe. A stream of smoke slowly escaped his lips and wafted into the air. He shook his head, eyes downcast. "The next morning when I arrived at work, my shop was gone. Oh, the building was still there alright, but everything inside -- my bolts of cloth, my tubs of dye, my cash register, and even my sewing kit -- was missing. The sign hanging above the door had been changed to one of those plain gold signs. My shop was *clean.* Not a speck of dust anywhere. No way to tell where anything had sat, no way to tell what had been where. It was as if my shop had never been there at all.

"At the time, I had figured Colin who had done it, and taken the recipe for my green with him. Last I heard, he was in Nu'Jelm hawking a green entirely too similar to mine. The rat was a Weaver, and he was always jealous of my Tailor status. I believe he stole my green in an effort to raise himself up to become one of us. Anyhow… if it *was* Colin, he must have had help, because that was an awful lot of work to do for one person in a single evening.

"Whatever the case, I deduced that I wasn't welcome in Minoc any longer. The rest of the cities in Britannia already had tailor shops, save Buccaneer's Den. Hell if I was going to sew clothes for pirates and brigands! The Explorers had just found passage to the new lands. I decided to move there. There was nothing left in Britannia for me any more."

I jumped through the moongates a few times until I arrived at Moonglow. Standing in a certain spot, I said 'Recdu' which took me to the Lost Lands. I ended up in Papua, where I found work at a budding tailor shop. I began work on a new formula for green. The green plants in the Lost Lands were numerous and plentiful, so it was not long before I had a new green. Soon after that, Janey, you met me in my shop."

"Yes, Monroe. I remember," I smiled at him. "I was with Hearding and the pirate Arron Degas. It was my first visit to the Lost Lands. I bought your green, made a cloak and baldric, and told the world what a wonderful thing you had done!"

"Yes," Monroe said, "you did. But you also told the world where I was, and some of that world, for some reason, did not and still does not want me around. It was after you began your writings about me that strange people came to see me. They did not look like us, you see. They looked cryptic… dreadful. They came and went all day, every day. They never bought anything but thread and sewing kits. Written on their nametags were bizzare things; they did not have normal names. Their faces were always covered. They said strange things to me. I could only reply with a simple 'I do not understand thee.' These were the same people, I believe, who ruined my shop in Minoc, and forced me out of Cove."

"Who were they?" Talyn asked, puzzled.

"I know not," Monroe replied. He closed his eyes. "But I do know that they did not work for themselves. They have a leader. It is he who ordered my assassination."

"Assassination!" Talyn exclaimed. "Do tell!"

Monroe looked at Talyn. "I'm getting to that, girl. These people - I will call them Shadows since they never show their faces - these Shadows showed up at about the same time the Tailor Guildmasters did. Baxter, the tailor in Skara Brae who also had a nice green (though I daresay not as nice as mine!) was murdered in approximately the same timeframe. Now, these people, whomever they were, were not just playing games of economic warfare; they had blood on their hands! Upon seeing these things, in addition to the frequency of the Shadows' visits, I knew my time had come to move on, lest I be the next to go. In the dead of night, I left Papua for Britannia in a hurry, carrying nothing but the clothes on my back."

"Carrying nothing?" I asked, concerned. "Do you really mean… nothing?"

"Yes," Monroe replied. "I mean nothing."

With both hands, I grabbed Monroe's leg. My eyes pleading, I cried out: "But the green, man! What about the green!? Tell me!! What happened to the green!?!?"

Monroe placed his hand upon my head. "I am sorry," he said. "It is gone." In despair, I slumped to the floor and sighed a small sigh.

Just then, we heard the front door open and close. Footsteps on the wooden floor made bits of dirt fall in our hair. Lanterns began to extinguish by themselves. Monroe covered the mouth of his ale jug with one hand, and put the index finger of his other to his lips. The three of us nodded. We sat silently in the dark, waiting for whoever was upstairs to leave. We heard muffled voices. Then, finally, they left.

"So then," I said to Monroe, "you knew about Baxter. Was he truly an evil man?"

Monroe, pensive, answered my question as best he could. "Baxter was competitive, stingy, and a bit of a troublemaker, when it suited his purposes. That he sold his green cloth in pieces rather than bolts goes to show you what kind of businessman he was. Pieces of cloth! Ha! Ten pieces of cloth - you can't even make a cloak from that!" Monroe coughed. "I must admit, though, that while he was my staunchest competitor, he was not evil. He was a victim, just as I am. They would have you believe he was, though. That is what they want." I wondered who he meant by 'they.'

"The assassination!" Talyn urged him, "Please get on with your story!"

"Ah yes, the assassination." Monroe got back on track. "I stood on a concrete pentagram and said 'recsu.' I always thought that word sounded like 'rescue,' which is what I really needed - a rescue. I thought it fitting. I figured they would be looking for me, when I did not show up for work the next morning, and would be staking out the moongates, so I decided to hang out at the Lycaeum until the coast was clear.

"There was a convention going on at the Lycaeum that week. 'Mystical Arts & The Effects on the Environment' or some such thing. They were trying to teach mages and alchemists how to practice their arts without strip-mining all the reagents, and the scribes how not to chop down all the trees for paper. What a joke. Oh - and the jokes they *did* tell? Do I need to tell you how absolutely un-funny scribes are? Every single one of their jokes starts out: 'A Mage, an Alchemist, and a Warrior walk into a tavern…" Monroe shook his head in disgust.

"Anyhow, since these folks traveled from all over Sosaria at the Lycaeum, nobody knew anybody else. So, it was easy for me to go unnoticed. I grabbed a blue robe from the coat closet and tried to look snooty and contemplative, like the rest of them. I ate bread and drank wine - there was no ale at *this* party! - with some of the sharpest minds in the land.

"It seemed I had drank one glass of wine too many, and went behind the building to, uhh… Mark My Territory. Just as I was finished, I heard someone close behind me say 'Monroe.' He caught me with my pants down - and I'm not just saying that. When I turned around, he said 'Corp Por' and threw an e-bolt at me. I felt myself resisting magical energy as I hurriedly tucked my shirt in my pants. He said an unmentionable, then repeated 'Corp Por.' I resisted again. He didn't know that I had worked my Magic Resistance up to unbelievable - for a tailor, anyway - heights so as to ready myself for a day like today. He kept throwing e-bolts, and I continued resisting them while I pulled my poisoned dagger from my boot. I had him. He was out of Mana; I had a fully poisoned dagger in my hand.

"'Who sent you?' I demanded from him. He would say nothing. I shoved the dagger into his belly, and he slumped to the ground. Blood gurgled from his mouth. I asked him again who sent him to do this to me. He would only say - and I will never forget this: 'Killers of Everything We Loathe.'"

"Killers of Everything We Loathe?" Talyn asked, perplexed. The three of us were stymied.

"Yes," Monroe said, just as confused as we were. "That's what he said. I don't think that was all he had to say… there was more, but he was too full of poison to go on. Just before he expired, I said 'Kal In Ex Por,' and traded identities with him. His name was Jasper. The trading of identities allowed me to get to Vesper, the next place I hit at the moongates, safely. I didn't want to travel via the moongates too much; I figured they were likely to set up stakeouts there for me. So I traveled through the forest to Yew, where I met Janey."

"And that," Monroe said, "in a nutshell, is my story."

"About these Shadows," Hearding leaned forward with his hands on his knees. "Did they have a guild affiliation? If so, that may be the best way to find out about them."

"They did not have a guild name attached to their name," Monroe answered. "But I knew that they were from the same organization, working for the same individual. They spoke alike. They looked alike. You could not tell one from another, in any obvious ways." He paused to take another drag on his pipe.

"Maybe the assassins need some assassination done to them." Talyn quipped.

"I think we had better find out what's really going on, first," I stated. "Who could be doing this, Monroe?"

"That's really the question, isn't it," he said. "Not Why, or How… but Who. Who has the power to cause recessions? Who has the power to instate guildmasters? Who has the power to erase entire shops? You answer these questions, and you will find the answer to your own."

"You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?" Hearding was shocked.

"I'm not going to do your homework for you," Monroe retorted. "Should you want to stop them, you should find out for yourself. I'm just telling you where I think it's coming from, and it's not coming from a source that anybody wants to fight."

I gasped, "Lord British! You think Lord British is doing it!"

"Shut up!" Monroe hissed. "Not so loud! They'll hear you!"

"Sorry," I blushed. "If you think he did it, I say we confront him about it. Let's just ask him. If he says no, then I'll want to believe him. If he says yes, then we'll know."

"Ha!" Hearding laughed. "He'll never tell you that he did it. At best, he will give you some flim-flam politician's answer."

"Well," I shrugged, "if he does, then so be it. We will know either way. I am going to see him. Tomorrow."