When asked about heroes, many people in Blackstone would agree that Joseph Corwell was just one. The latest heir of the noble House Corwell, renowned for the military minds that it had gifted to the city, could lack the martial prowess of his forefathers but that didn’t make him any less of a paladin in the eyes of the citizenry. His displays in the courtrooms were the stuff of legends, and not only because of his fiery, drilling rhetorics. Honest men, dragged before the judge just for refusing to bend the knee to the Crow’s demands, owed Joseph Corwell their freedom; many a criminal owed him their just sentence. Poor sods that nobody would bat an eye to see thrown in the dungeons found in the noble turned lawyer their staunchest defender; criminal chiefs that not even the guards would touch found in him their worst enemy. The man was a true defender of justice, a reef against the wave of corruption that threatened to engulf the city; or a fool and a walking deadman, depending on who you asked.

Still, everybody agreed. If someone had to be called a hero, who but this man, that, after three attempts at his life, had returned to his podium each time more war-like than the last? Foolish or brave, call it what you wanted, Joseph Corwell was a true hero.

Well, Joseph didn’t feel like a hero. First of all, a hero would have been tall, strong, maybe with long locks fluttering in the wind. He was short and chubby, with what little hair remained already thinning out despite him having barely touched the thirty. Also, a hero would have been brave, courageous; he would have stood undaunted before danger. Joseph Corwell didn’t know a moment without fear or tension. He regularly used at least five handkerchiefs daily only to wipe his face from sweat. There was a lump of pain in his side, a hot coal that never left him; an effect from humors being unbalanced, the medics told him. Sometimes, it got so bad that his muscles seized up into cramps, and he had to sit and wait for the moment he could start breathing normally again.

From what he remembered of the old stories, no hero had stuff like that.

Even now, closed in an unmarked couch rattling down a side street, he didn’t feel a hero; more like a trapped rat.

Nervously passing a kerchief over his heated face, he hazarded a glance beyond the curtains, tightly drawn over the small windows. He saw a bunch of nondescript houses over a cobbled street. It was almost night, the twilight drawing long shadows and coloring every surface in red. A good time to come out of the burrow. People were home now, or in the tavern. Still, he felt like there were eyes watching from every shadow. His chest, where an arrow had come very close to puncturing the armor he kept under his clothes, tingled. The attempt to his life hadn’t left a scratch on him, but he had almost died out of fright all the same. Not very hero-like.

“Calm down, young master,” Robert grumbled. With the cloak draped over his armor, the massive guard appeared in the gloom of the couch like a misshapen statue. Joseph was happy for his presence. Robert had been his father’s right-hand man and he couldn’t ask for a more loyal and efficient bodyguard. If a bit grumpy, but that was nothing before the benefits.

Still, no matter that Corwell senior had passed away ten years ago, and that the junior had hit thirty years, he was always the “young master” for the hulking man-at-arms.

Joseph couldn’t really blame him. He wished he had even half of his father's composure.

“How much yet?” He asked, panting.

The old guard threw a glance beyond the curtains. “Only a little more.”

Joseph nodded, swallowing. Father had insisted that he learned about the city’s streets. The wish to have listened to that demand only increased his already kilometric list.

“Good good…” he mumbled, sinking back into his seat.

The air was stuffy in there. He shuffled his feet, fighting the urge to loose his collar. Getting out of the house wasn’t never pleasant, but this call promised too much to be ignored.

Shamefully, he had heard of Lucius Cartus only far after his actual rise to importance. He had been too busy with the preparation of his cases to listen to even the most basic of voices. Still, that the businessman would reach for a contact was a good opportunity. An outsider like him could act without the hobble of being already embroiled in the city’s politics. Moreover, he seemed a wealthy and shrewd individual and, more importantly, not willing to bend to the Crow. They always needed men like him in their faction. Of course, the same virtues made him a bit of a wild card, mysterious and detached from the city as he was. It was crucial that he showed him that it was in his interests to join them and not the Crow. He hoped to make a good enough impression…

Joseph sighed. To be honest, he didn’t feel optimistic. Since the death of the previous Governor, the city had been caught in a downward spiral that seemed to have no end. He and his allies did what they could to stop the Crow, but how did you stop someone that didn’t play fair? Each week, another craftsman accepted to pay the “protection”, another merchant changed his prices in exchange for smuggled goods; and so the crimelord’s reach extended. In the end, it felt like they were just delaying the inevitable, the day when all of Blackstone was held in the grip of a shadowy overlord.

The thought ignited a spark of anger in his chest. If that day was to come, it would after that he was dead and cold. A lump of feverish fear settled in his stomach. He was scared of death, absolutely, completely terrified of it. But if it there was need for it, for his life to be given for the cause, he was… he was…

The couch came to a stop, jolting him out of his reverie.

“We’re here.” Robert was watching him, a question in his eyes.

Joseph opened and closed his hand. Without noticing, he had sunk it in the seat until his fingers hurt.

“Good good.” He passed the kerchief over his forehead, eyes darting out the window. “Let’s go.”

The Flower Hill tavern was a good place for secret meetings. The largest of the city, there wasn’t a moment when it wasn’t full to the brim with raucous customers. Its importance, it could count even nobles between his clientele, and the position in the genteel part of the city had allowed the owner to retain its independence. Moreover, it offered, for a discreet sum, spaces where one could hold private meetings. The walls were too thick for eventual listeners and the customers could use their own guards if wanted, no questions asked. All in all, the tavern offered the closest to security one could hope for, especially because there was an unspoken agreement, and a strong paid guard, to keep it violence-free. That the peace held wasn’t so surprising; there was always need for a place where to conduct negotiations after all.

Led by Robert, that spread the strong escort from House Corwell to keep an eye on the exits, Joseph was ushered inside of a small room on the second store of the tavern.

Trembling under the cowl covering his face, the lawyer laid eyes on the small table where two figures waited for him. He couldn’t make out their faces under the voluminous cloaks, but they were surprisingly petite. He tried to disregard the fact that they also seemed to be two clones of the same person, identical down to the brooches holding their cloaks.

Robert stepped forward, lowering his cowl, and he hurried to do the same. Behind them, five guards of House Corwell spread out, moving their cloaks aside to show swords already an inch out of their scabbards.

Joseph eyed warily the escort the other party had brought. Escort was an understatement there: a short, burly man with a professional air and an iron gaze and a tall, willowy woman with a smile that sent shivers down his back. There was nobody else. He relaxed marginally. At least, if things took a turn for the worst, they had the numbers.

“Where’s Lucius Cartus?” Robert asked with suspicion. The guard was intercepted by the burly man, that advanced to stop him from reaching the table. He glared hard at the him, but, despite barely reaching his chest, the shorter man wasn’t fazed.

“The Master.” The cowled figure to the left spoke with a feminine voice, dryly emphasizing the word. “Won’t be present at this meeting.”

“Peepers from the Crow.” The right figure, a male, added with a mirthful tone. “He couldn’t shake them off enough to make it this place. You understand.”

Joseph saw his cue when Robert looked ready to bark his outrage.

“Of course of course. We understand.” Dabbing his cheeks with his kerchief, he threw his guard a pleading glance. He could well understand his frustration. Going there wasn’t a cakewalk for them. The least that Cartus could do was being there to meet them. Still, in his message the guild master hadn’t specified that he would have been there in person; and the caution might very well not be an excuse but the truth.

Whatever the case, they couldn‘t afford to be skittish. They needed allies.

Thankfully, Robert already knew all these things. The guard sneered but still drew back.

Joseph repressed a sigh of relief.

“Can we go right to business?” He asked. The animosity of his guards for the other party pressed on his shoulders like a boulder. He really didn’t trust long negotiations right now. And he wanted to get back home as soon as possible. Not very hero-like, not at all.

“Indeed,” the figure on the left said in a business-like tone. Primly, she tapped a small stack of paper into order, then, sounding like she had rehearsed her speech beforehand began: “As you already know, our Master has been recently subjected to harassment from the criminal organization held by a man that styles himself as the Crow. You already received the details of the event, so i won’t repeat them here. Now, our Master isn’t interested in submitting to the requests of this criminal, in fact the demands that he has already received are highly damaging to his activities. He acquiesces to them for now, but only while he searches for an alternative solution.” Joseph felt the eyes under the cowl fix on him like two nails. “You, Joseph Corwell, are renowned as an enemy of the Crow.”

“Our Master would be interested into a cooperation.” The other continued seamlessly. “But before, some information, if you don’t mind.” A grin appeared under the cowl. “Rest assured, our Master will make it worth your while.”

“Fair.” Joseph wiped his forehead. Not so bad. He had many deals like this in the past. After all, it was only common sense that this man wanted to know more before seriously committing. “What do you want to know?”

“The Crow.” The female picked up. “What is his reach?”

Joseph bit his lip. A question that he was familiar with. The answer wasn’t ever easy.

“He’s… powerful, yes,” he conceded. “The underground is firmly under his control. He controls the smuggling and all the street crimes. All the bands of the city answer to him, and he uses them to extract protection money by the merchants. A strong part of the guard is under his thumb, as well as many important merchants of the Guild and…” Shame pulled at him. “…and also many powerful noble families.”

The male nodded, while the female dutifully wrote everything.

“What do you know of his organization?”

Joseph thought about the answer. He wouldn’t divulge his suspects, but there was no problem to give in the basic knowledge. It was common knowledge after all.

“His organization is powerful and well-structured,” he said. “He’s the undisputed leader, with the most powerful nobles and merchants acting as his seconds. It’s they that dole out the instructions to those that they have forced under their wing. They force them to alter their prices at their advantage, or to buy or sell only to them and so they control the market. The affiliated nobles’s private militia and the Crow’s thugs provide the muscle. In exchange, they offer “protection”, smuggled products and they harass the competition, so that their affiliated can feel they are earning something in exchange for their freedom. ”

“I see,” the female nodded, writing down everything.

Joseph eyed the speed with which her hand moved. Worthy of a professional secretary. “On the other side,” he continued. “The Crow and his acolytes use their influence to protect their goons. They maneuver so that the guard doesn’t crack down on them and at the same time work to indict their enemies.”

“So he has his hand even in politics,” the male noted.

“Yes,” Joseph admitted bitterly, but then hurried to add: “Still! His power isn’t uncontested. Just as many nobles, merchants, and honest men oppose them! We all work together to stop him.”

“These nobles are provided with their own militia?”

“Yes,” Joseph explained. “And the merchants that work with us oppose the Crow’s allies in the Guilds and in the Society of the Crossbowmen. Also, we have allies in the guard as well. We might not be just as united and powerful as them, but…” He left the words trail off. To be honest, the Crow’s men gnawed at their powerbase constantly, with each month seeing more and more flocking at the crimelord’s banner. It was discouraging, to say the least.

“And what about the Governor?”

Another sore spot. Joseph searched for the right words. “The Governor is part of the problem, i fear,” he explained. “This crisis started with the death of her predecessor. She’s… she’s a good woman, but she lacks what is needed to hold this city together. This has left a power vacuum, and the Crow and his allies have only profited from it.” He restrained himself from voicing his sour feelings on the matter. They had no place there anyway.

“Very helpful,” the male chimed. “I guess that asking for more details would be too much.”

“Not too much.” Joseph nervously wiped at his forehead. “Only understandable. But you must understand. I need to know what your Master’s intentions are if you want more.”

“Fair,” the female said, putting down the pen.

“Master will stand with you!,” the male cheerfully confirmed.

Joseph was pleasantly surprised. Usually, that was the time when his interlocutors cordially expressed their interests and said they were going to think about it. He found the same people between the posse of the Crow a few days after. Still, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Wonderful! Ehm, i mean…” He coughed, catching Robert’s warning glance. Better not to look too enthusiastic. “Very good indeed. Still, i need to ask a token from you. A proof of commitment.”

“Indeed! What do you propose?”

“Well.” Joseph clasped the kerchief with both hands, smiling tentatively. “First of all, your Master could refuse to obey the Crow’s demands. You can be sure that our faction will help you against his goons. Together, we will bite a chunk out of them!”

“Yes yes, of course,” the female said offhandedly. “But our Master would have another proposition for you.”

Joseph frowned at that. Another proposition? Curious, he gestured for them to go on.

It was the male to pick up the discourse. “You see, right now our Master isn’t at odds with the Crow’s men. It’s something that he’d wish to maintain, at least for now. Still, if you want a proof of commitment, he isn’t averse to that either. Now, if you’d ask for something, let’s just say, less showy…”

That was too much for Robert. “Are you trying to play both sides, outsider?” The guard barked, outraged.

“Robert, please!” Joseph pleaded, raising a hand. The guard sneered, but added nothing.

“You’re asking me not to force you to show publicly where you stand,” the lawyer said. “Why?”

“It’s simple enough,” the female said. “Our Master thinks that you’d benefit greatly from having an insider.”

“Oh, a double agent?”

“Indeed.”

“Very convenient,” Robert snarled. “So you’d stay nice and cozy while others risk their lives.”

The female raised her chin. “We’d risk our lives anyway, any moment, while conceding to demands that damage my Master already.”

“And you’d get a potentially essential source of information!” The male chimed in helpfully.

Joseph’s mind was racing. That could become big! Their faction hadn’t insiders with a true reach in the acting of the Crow’s organization. There had been attempts, but the Crow’s goons seemed to have a knack for finding double agents and after the first big failures, the volunteers for the job had drained up. On the other side, the rest of his allies lacked the means, refused to bend or were simply too honest for it - he himself abhorred the idea -. Still, that left him with a question.

“You’d be forced to do their bidding, illegal actions.”

The female nodded. “Another reason for it. Our Master would act to contain the casualties as much as possible.”

Joseph nervously considered the idea. It was daring, tremendously so, but if it worked…

“Master…” Robert took him aside. “I hope you’re not actually considering it?” The guard sounded equally appalled and enraged.

Joseph glanced at the duo. Thankfully, they seemed willing to concede them some moments.

“We need this, Robert,” he panted. “An insider could be worth more than one hundred soldiers. Just think of all the help an inside source could give us! And don’t say that it would be a cozy job,” he added, preventing the guard’s protests. “Just remember poor Arsham. He didn’t end up well, did he? And he was our insider!”

Averse to what he felt to be just underhanded tricks, Robert was unwilling to concede the argument.

“The Duke will never accept it,” he protested.

Joseph knew that better than him. He didn’t need to remind him. Still, this was too good of a chance to let it pass them by.

“I will speak to Edward,” he whispered quickly. “When i tell him of the rewards, he will understand.”

Robert gritted his teeth. As much as he disliked the deal, it wasn’t his job to push for it. Looking like he had swallowed something bad, he nodded, and drew back.

Joseph felt like he could breathe once more.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to the duo. “I accept your deal. Some of our allies won’t be happy about it, but i will convince them. Still, i must know” he nervously wiped at his face. “It’s a big risk. Why would your Master be ready to take it?”

“Simple!” The male replied genially. “He doesn’t like people trying to be smart with him!”

Joseph recognized those words for that they were, a feint and a warning, but still smiled tiredly. “We have something in common then.“ He turned serious. “But i must warn you. The Crow’s goons have a knack to find double agents in their midst. Maybe you will find this redundant, but i have to ask. Are you really sure you want to do this?”

For the first time, the duo acted at the unison. Instead of speaking, both nodded, with a sameness of movements and rhythm that sent a ripple of disquiet through his gut.

“Good good.” It didn’t escape his notice that one of the main reasons he was agreeing was that the outsider was, on the whole, a sacrificial pawn. Without allies, without a powerbase in the city, his presence wouldn’t have been missed. The same qualities made him a good infiltrator. But no, he wouldn‘t allow it. He would make sure that Cartus and his men was as cautioned as possible against being discovered.

Returning from his thoughts, he found the duo waiting for him, the female looking a bit impatient, the male grinning cheekily.

“You still have to tell us what you want us to do.”

Joseph blinked, then caught himself. “Oh, of course, of course.” He coughed. So, a task that would show their commitment and at the same time not reveal their allegiance to the city. What could it be? Not exactly the most immediate of…

“Oh, of course!” He snapped his fingers. “Are you familiar with the Bronze Road?”

The duo shook their heads.

Joseph wasn’t surprised. “It’s a smaller road that ends up joining the Silver Road. It connects Blackstone to Greenvale, even if it’s not the only one. Recently, a group of brigands that call themselves the Crow’s Arrows has been assaulting the travelers on it.” He grimaced. “Bad stuff. They don’t limit themselves to just robbery. They also kill a great deal. Still, they also throw money around. Only a small part of what they rob, but enough to make them pass like some kind of defenders of the poor in the eyes of many people. There have even been a number of bards going around the taverns of the zone that speak of them, singing about their good deeds and whatnot.” Joseph swallowed. “From the name, you can understand by yourself that these brigands associate the Crow to their name. They have been trying to make him pass as some kind of defender of justice, fighting againt the corrupted nobles or something like that. And of course, those robbed or that has suffered the death of a friend or a family members are slandered as enemies of the people.” A couple had even turned out on his door, poor men with their hats in their hands, begging for a justice he couldn‘t give. The thought was enough to make his blood boil. “These actions have been too well-coordinated to be the work of some brigands alone. We suspect that it’s some kind of pet project of the Crow.” Just saying it left a bad taste in his mouth. Killing and stealing and lying, a pet project. What a sick joke. “Eliminate the brigands and bring me the proof of their defeat and i will put my word for you with my allies.” He gazed on the duo. “Do we agree?”

The two cowled figures exchanged a look, then the female nodded.

“Consider it done.”

Joseph felt a smile appear on his face. “If you do this, it will mean the safety of many. Thank you.”

The duo smiled.

With that, there wasn’t anything else to say. The two parties exchanged the last pleasantries - Robert didn’t miss from locking a hard glare with this burly man - and then they were quick to part ways.

Joseph was more than relieved to get back in his stuffy couch, but a true sense of security returned to him only once he was back to House Corwell. There, sitting on his favorite armchair before the great fireplace, he would reminisce about the strange mannerism of his two interlocutors and the deal he had struck. Many of his allies would fuss at it, but he was sure to have made the right choice. What they were to lose anyway? If else, there was only to earn,

Still, he couldn’t but wonder. This Lucius Cartus, who was he? Where had he come from? Voices said he came from beyond the Wasteland, from the war-torn Seven Cities, but they were just that, voices. Who was this man ready to risk his life in such a way? He suspected that his play was more nuanced than just generosity, but he couldn’t but be curious. Those two had been so strange…

As he thought, a detail, unremarkable at the time, came back to him. As he and his guards streamed out of the room he had caught a glimpse of something in a corner, something… furry?

A cat?

The thought made him smile. Not exactly the time to think about tavern cats, was it?

What Joseph didn’t know was that after his party had left, both of his interlocutors had turned their gazes on that same cat he was dismissing.

“A honest man, but not a stupid man,” A deep, rumbling voice spoke in the minds of those still present. “I am pleased. He’s all that i hoped for and more.”

“What about the bandits, Master?” Trich asked.

The cat’s eyes flashed. “I need his trust. We’ll start preparations at once.”

The sight of four humans bowing to a cat nestled in a corner would have looked grotesque to anyone entering the room in that moment, but to the Gremlins there was nothing but the deepest respect in that gesture.

"By your will."

Gorren had Argus and Scarlet repeat the Schools’ names and definitions until, to the chagrin of the latter and the dutiful effort of the former, they had them thoroughly memorized. Only when he was satisfied by their performance he moved forward, passing to Magic Types.

“The Type is how we say where a spell receives his power and how it channels it in the world. If i had to list all the strict types that exist in the world, we’d be still here by the end of the year. Instead, i will summarize as much as possible. Here.”

The Types he spoke to them of are as follow:

- Arcane Magic: all the spells that are produced by the mage’s internal energy are gathered under this Type. Technically speaking, the inner energy is compounded by a low percentage of external energy that the mage’s aura gather unconsciously. This is by far the most common Type of magic, so much that many not privy to the knowledge think it the only form of magic. Also called Mortal Magic.

- Chorus Magic: this Type gather the spells that are cast by the communal effort of more than one mage or other founts of Mana. It’s not as immediate as solo spellcasting. The mages have to work together and attune to each other to become able to turn their power into a Chorus. Consequently, the more numerous is the Chorus, the most difficult is to maintain its attunement.

- Divine Magic: the power of the Gods is channeled through this magic. Even non-mages can cast these spells because the Mana doesn’t originate from their bodies, but is bequeathed by a deity. This Type requires strict adherence to a religion and its dictates. In theory, a deity could channel a great deal of his power through a mortal in this way, but that would only result in the burning out of the vessel. That means that its limitations depend on how much energy the channel can sustain. The level of favor enjoyed with the deity play a great role as well. Abandoning or violating the norms of the followed religion is a sure way to lose the powers bestowed through this Type.

- Nature Magic: while arcane magic relies first and foremost on inner energy and only marginally on external energy, Nature Magic does the opposite, with its users relying primarily on the Mana coursing through the natural world. This affords them greater stamina and the chance to channel great power, but at the cost of dependability: compared to Arcane, Nature Magic is fickle. It requires long periods of communing with the elements and the use of strange practices that might as well appear as barbaric superstitions. Its reliance over emotion rather than reason makes it difficult to pass on.

- Primal Magic: also said Ley Line Magic. This Type channel the Mana currents that hold the world together. It’s usually usable only through long and elaborated rituals or particular constructions that tap in the energy flows of the earth. The massive amount of energy that allows mages to channel, and the tremendous effects it can have on the world, makes it a truly dangerous practice.

- Alchemy: half science half magic, this practice channel and weave Mana through chemical processes, rigorous study and celestial influences. It includes potion and scroll making. It can reach an extremely refined form that comes to be known as Magitech, wondrous machines and apparatus that allow for Mana to be used in a dizzying array of methods.

“More often than not, you’ll find spells that cross the borders between these types,” Gorren explained. “So, once again, keep them in mind, but do not let yourself be shackled to it. They are guidelines, nothing more. Understand?”

Argus nodded, already struggling to keep everything to mind. Scarlet made a face like she had just swallowed a frog.

“Good. Then, let’s start repeating.”

Scarlet hid her face in the blankets with a disgusted sound. Argus looked embarrassed for her too.