Wallamir held a fierce pride in his intellect; left for dead by his parents, he had gone on to graduate from the top of his class in Norastir. Other mages had spoken his name in hushed whispers during the war. But the mess of papers scattered across his desk taunted him with a secret that refused to reveal itself. It was like a test in a subject he hadn't even realized he was taking. Wallamir threw a handful of papers down in a huff, not caring how they scattered across the rest.

He pulled out his pipe and flicked an ember into the bowl. Glancing over the jewels arrayed on his fingers, he carefully checked for the scratches and imperfections that came from using them too often. The cheap ruby he'd gotten at a discount would need to be replaced. Already the flaw in its core had splintered to the edges. Trying to produce too much flame now might lose him a hand when it shattered.

He counted out a handful of gold from a drawer before making his way outside. His office sealed itself behind him, gems embedded in the wood glowing briefly as the wards activated. The scribes and accountants averted their eyes as he marched toward the front door, and Wallamir enjoyed the hush that fell over them as they struggled to appear busy.

Wallamir descended the steps into the street and turned into an alley that ran alongside the building. A smile lit up his face as he saw the shaggy mound of fur rise up to greet him, grass and dirt falling free of Monty's hide as he shook himself awake. Monty was his constant companion, a being of spirit and magic that Wallamir had acquired during the war. The beast's size had grown in sync with Wallamir's magical prowess, and now the animal stood almost as tall as a full grown horse.

Monty let out a growl of warning as Wallamir went to scratch between his ears, the bassy rumbles shaking the ground, and Wallamir chuckled to himself.

"Someone is grumpy today," he said.

Unfortunately his size meant Wallamir could no longer allow him inside. After numerous complaints— and the inevitable mess that came from having a dog that size running around indoors— Wallamir had finally conceded to reason. But their magical connection strained both of them as the distance between them grew. Thus the small section of alley that had been unofficially set aside for Wallamir's personal use.

"And how fared my fearsome beast while I worked to keep us fed?" Wallamir asked. Monty stood to tower over Wallamir's shoulders, teeth the size of daggers showing through a lopsided grin as his tongue spilled out a corner of his mouth. He was gentle unless provoked, although his fearsome appearance served as enough of a deterrent for most.

"Well I am done for the day, Monty. Let the drones finish the paperwork, we have a man to meet about a job." Wallamir began walking, and the ground trembled slightly beneath Monty's pan sized paws as he followed along. "Between planning the festival, the temple's funding requests, and this latest string of territory disputes I have no time for myself anymore."

His mind wandered as his steps traced a familiar path through the city towards his dinner reservations, finally managing to let go of the puzzle that had niggled him for weeks. The crowd parted around him as if by magic— mostly due to the towering presence of Monty behind him— and Wallamir enjoyed the chance to take in the sights of the festival.

Busy merchants hollered as he passed and traveling jongleurs filled the air with festive music. He stopped by a trio of knife jugglers, trying to count the blades as they twirled through the air. Finally giving up as the whirling steel proved too difficult to number, he tossed a platinum piece into the air above them. He chuckled and gave a few polite claps as the coin flawlessly flowed into the juggling act and then disappeared into a pocket when a hand was free.

The smell of the restaurant reached him before he could see it, kitchens in full swing to accommodate the festival crowds. The Champagne Flower was one of his favorite places to dine in Farone, and not only because the owners owed him a great deal of money that amounted to first class treatment every time he visited. What made it so appealing to Wallamir was the lovely view of the city's central marketplace. Elevated a few feet above the round city center, it was tastefully separated from the common folk with a series of plants and trellises that still afforded a view over the busy streets toward Izael's temple.

After being shown to his normal table he waited only a few minutes before the waiter brought out his usual meal and a chilled bottle of wine. The wine was left in a magically cooled divot in the center of the table and the server made himself scarce. There was an enchanted bell near one end of the table if he needed anything, but Wallamir doubted he would use it. He came here to be alone, to enjoy peaceful solitude in the middle of the bustling city. The inherent contradiction made him smile.

Moments later his delivery arrived, and Wallamir made a note to commend Lavinia for her promptness as Grist was unceremoniously deposited into the chair opposite him by one of Lavinia's men. "We found him passed out in an alley, sir. Lavinia said to bring him straight here."

Wallamir nodded a dismissal toward the boy and took in the sight of his old friend. Greasy salt and pepper hair fell in lanky streaks across his face, and the brilliantly green eyes that had broken hearts in every port now stared lifelessly at Wallamir as Grist's head lolled back against the cushioned seat. You could hardly recognize the man he used to be, and for a brief moment Wallamir felt pity catch in his throat.

One of Wallamir's hands reached into a pouch at his belt for a stub of coal and he held it on an outstretched palm between them. A spell snapped together as Wallamir whispered the mnemonic and several of the gems on his fingers glowed brightly— small cracking noises letting him know he would be replacing more than his ruby today. A small breeze blew outward from the lump of coal as it was pulverized to dust, and Grist's eyes finally focused on Wallamir before looking around him in a sudden burst of alertness.

"There he is," Wallamir whispered. "It's—"

"Hold that thought," Grist interrupted with a raised finger. He snatched the bottle of wine from the center of the table and began pouring it directly into his mouth. Wallamir sipped gently at the glass he'd been ignoring and raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile Grist stared into Wallamir's eyes as the bottle was drained.

Several long seconds later Grist finally placed the bottle down and grabbed a silken napkin from the table. He used it to dab away the excess wine that had begun staining his beard and belched loudly before speaking. "I spent all morning working on that drunk, and you just go and magic it all away? Your parents taught you better than that, Wallamir."

"I have a job for you," Wallamir said. "And before you start complaining, let me say it would benefit you to listen to the details before making any judgment calls."

Grist laughed. A guffaw straight from his belly that startled the nearby customers with its volume. "I thought you learned your lesson the last time," Grist answered when he stopped to take a breath. "Besides, I'm retired."

"There is a difference between retirement and failing so miserably at life that you can do no more than waste away in a bar until your liver gives out," Wallamir bit back coldly. "Regardless of how you pretend, I know my friend is somewhere in that husk of a body. And beside that, you owe me."

Grist tilted his head in confusion. "Owe you for what? We haven't done business in years."

A folio of papers emerged from below the table and Wallamir pushed it across toward Grist, avoiding the wine stains on the fine white linen. "Indeed. But failing to pay your debts does not simply make them go away. Fifteen years ago you were given a loan from the Royal Bank to purchase a ship. When you were unable to make the payments I bought out the debt, feeling it was the least I could do for an old friend in a tough bind."

As he began leafing through the papers Grist's eyes grew wide. "This is—"

"That is what you owe," Wallamir interrupted. "The loan was not paid off, control of the debt was merely transferred to myself. Unfortunate how interest stacks up over the years, is it not?"

"It doesn't change my answer," Grist said.

"The alternative is a trip to prison until you can pay me back," Wallamir answered. "And we both know it would be hard to stay as drunk as you prefer in the king's dungeons."

Wallamir stopped as a waitress approached with another course of food, placing down several plates with meat and roasted potatoes before turning to leave. Grist pulled out a large dagger to stab at the meat and the waitress jostled the table in her rush to leave. Before she could get more than a step away, however, Grist snatched out with his hand to grab her wrist. He squeezed it in a tight grip and lowered his voice.

"I know it might not have much inside, but I'd like to keep the purse you just snatched, please." Grist released her wrist and held his hand out, waiting patiently until his coin purse was returned. The woman stammered out an apology in broken Wilden before Wallamir cut her off with a smile.

"You can drop the act. The disguise is good, but there are few others who would be willing to steal from a patron here." Wallamir's tone was lighthearted, but his stern face brooked no response other than a sigh from the serving girl as she sank onto the last remaining empty seat at the table. "This is not how I wished the two of you to meet, Grist, but may I introduce my ward, Lavinia."

"Sorry about picking your pocket," Lavinia said with a smile.

Grist smiled in response as he looked her over. "No harm done, everybody's got to make a living somehow. But I'd recommend better fitting clothes and a better ability to pick your mark." He chuckled as her cheeks flushed red. "I'm guessing you just took whatever uniform was available in the back? But no halflings work here, so the end result was that mess." He gestured up and down at her clothing.

"Didn't realize you'd gone full father-figure, Wallamir," Grist continued. "You know, I saw Lil's daughter today. She was walking around the market with some boy in her church get-up," he choked out a cough and Wallamir saw the hint of a tear disappear into his beard. "She looked happy."

Wallamir saw the pain in Grist's eyes and wondered if he could use it. Karyth and Lilian's daughter was something they'd never discussed directly. Wallamir had never dared. But Grist had brought it up, and that provided an opportunity if Wallamir could stomach taking advantage of it.

Grist took back his knife and stabbed at the meat and potatoes Lavinia had brought. He gestured for Lavinia to help herself, but she sat silently until Wallamir nodded his permission.

"So what did you need Grist for, Wally?" Lavinia asked. "The conversation seemed a bit one-sided before I interrupted." She reached for a hunk of meat with her fingers, and Wallamir sighed loudly until she picked up a fork instead.

"I was discussing a business proposition with an old friend," Wallamir answered. "Believe it or not, Grist was once the captain of the fastest ship in the Faronian fleet. And now I have need of his skills."

"Blackmailing, more like," Grist said in between bites. "Your boss is forcing me to do his dirty work in exchange for not going to prison."

Lavinia furrowed her brow in confusion. "What's wrong with blackmail?"

"There is nothing dirty about it, Grist," Wallamir interrupted before they could get sidetracked yet again. "If you would listen instead of running your mouth you would know that already." Grist waved his dagger through the air while chewing, and Wallamir set the trap.

"The church is sending one of their novices on a holy mission and they have requested a companion," Wallamir said. "They want a well-traveled individual with no ties to the church available for an indeterminate amount of time, and my superiors want someone we can trust to report back to us on what is happening. Luckily for you, you fit the bill on all counts."

"So you want me to spy on some church girl?" Grist asked. "What's in it for me?"

"Besides the lack of prison in your future?" Wallamir asked. "A travel stipend will be provided to accommodate the girl on her travels, you can keep whatever remains after the trip is done. In addition the debts owed to me will be erased and the Spiders will hold you in their highest regard."

He grinned across the table as he saw the pieces fitting together in Grist's mind. It was a stretch, Wallamir knew. The connection was tiny, almost invisible unless—

"It's her," Grist said in a whisper. "Isn't it?"

"I am not allowed to give you details until the job is taken," Wallamir said. But even as he stopped talking he let his head fall in a nod. "May I give my superiors the good news?"

Grist hocked up a wad of phlegm and spat onto the floor beside him. "It's not for you." He said with a grunt. "But I'll take it."

Wallamir sighed in satisfaction and took another sip of wine as he sank back into the chair. Unlike the conundrum waiting in his office, his conversation with Grist had gone exactly as he'd predicted. "Well I shall contact you with the details in the next day or two. Feel free to take some food with you, Grist. Lavinia, I—" His eyes caught on Lavinia, an uncharacteristic pout confusing him. "What's wrong?"

Lavinia shrugged and scratched at her nose. "Well it's just— the fireworks are starting soon, and these are pretty great seats. Do you think—" she trailed off with a hopeful smile, and Wallamir found no good reason to deny the simple request. It would be a fitting end to a successful day to relax among friends for a moment and forget the cares of his work.

Wallamir rang the silver bell at his side and asked for a fresh bottle of wine as the other two finished eating. It arrived just as the evening bells sounded over the city, the seraphs of Izael's temple heralding an end to the day much as they heralded each dawn.

Lavinia's eyes lit with excitement as she climbed the back of her chair for a better view. "The fireworks should be starting now, guys. Watch!" Her excitement was infectious and Wallamir found himself grinning along with her as the bells faded into silence. The three of them fixed their gaze over the temple to the north where the fireworks would soon begin erupting.

And so Wallamir saw very clearly as the stars began winking out one by one. It started slowly, as if a bank of clouds had drifted in over the horizon. But any natural cause was quickly ruled out as the phenomenon accelerated like a wave on the shore. A blanket of darkness fell over the sky, and the city was shrouded in shadows.

Wallamir sat frozen. A whimper of fear came from Lavinia's chair and he could just make out her widened eyes as she looked to him in confusion. In the unnatural silence that had fallen over the city he could hear her clearly.

"Wally? What's happening?" Lavinia whispered in a shaky voice.

Wallamir opened his mouth to express his own ignorance, but instead the silence was broken by the sudden sound of an explosion that echoed throughout the city.