Erden snickered. Easy money, this – until an archmage had arrived and they'd nearly shit their pants. And then, he'd left, not sparing them a glance. Erden was a mage, competent enough, but the quality of ones magical artifacts said a lot about their position. And then there were recognizable faces, like Kael Emberwind's, someone none of them could fight. Even altogether. That was one of the downsides of being so near the academies.

Still, he'd gotten away with it again. Feeling only slightly regretful that he hadn't been able to hold up the students. These things were a gold mine, but they were too dangerous to delve for three intermediate mages trained outside the academies that would never have accepted them. The twenty or so men he kept in his 'crew' would be nothing more than dead weight.

Instead of plumbing those depths, they'd sit here for days at a time. Camped out beneath the tower atop the dungeon entrance, waiting for those inside to deliver the loot right into their waiting hands. A few women too, meat for the boys and the good ones either went to the slavers or the syndicate. In their arrogance, the academies were powerless to stop them. Amistad's council, per the treaty, could not take official action beyond the wall of mana towers defining their official border. And all any adventurer would see when they came out this way to investigate were the 'guild men' who had obviously seen nor heard nothing.

Students and adventurers were easy prey. Dropping their loot and running for the hills once they found themselves bereft of the magic they'd defined their lives by. Erden was different. An 'apostate' mage tempered by the road. He didn't need the magic, it just made it easier. But without it, the groups he'd help up were completely worthless.

“Oi, E.” They all spoke in code. No full names, and illusion artifacts about their necks that allowed them to change their faces so as to avoid capture. Bounties would be set on their heads, little did they know that the owners of those faces were well on the way to rotting beneath the ground somewhere far away from here. “Five on the road.”

Petyr, another mage and a jovial looking halfling, his unassuming appearance made their job so much easier. More talented than Erden at most things, but especially divination. He was working at his magic circle, spinning the outer edge of the wheel into focus to emit a rough wire frame map of the region. On the road less than a mile away, four dots blinked into being.

“Correction.” Petyr frowned, correcting himself. He could've sworn there were five signatures, but the filth some way in the lead had flickered and gone dark after an adjustment. “Must've been some interference there for a second. Four on the road.”

“...Easy money.” Erden chuckled, greedily rubbing his hands together as yet another batch of brats entered his trap.

I hope they have women, those in the last lot were too homely... Boss seemed to like them, though.

A few minutes later, Tyr spotted them and sent Okami off into the forest as he always would. This time, it was different. There were mages in this group again, and he was keenly aware that he'd made a mistake in how they'd approached the situation before. Mages were complex opponents that had all sorts of abilities at their fingertips, many of which he had never seen nor heard about. Everyone was different.

The wolf, however, was more aware of this than he'd thought. Tyr attempted to use the 'life sense' spell, which worked well enough. Asking Alex to do the same. Neither of them could see nor sense the predator silently flanking them.

He shrouded himself...? Tyr had never considered the fact that Okami could use magic, but it stood to reason. He was a 'magical beast'. Another topic he'd have to look into before finding himself in an inopportune struggle against one. Relying on his apparent immortality was one thing, but he was also aware that he'd not like to find himself crammed into the stomach of such a beast after failing to properly prepare for it.

He did use magic to break that 'curse'. Hmm... Maybe he can learn to breathe fire or something... Or fly, that would be convenient.

Those men he'd sensed were lounging around a fire, waving at them from their position, standing garrison in front of the half-collapsed remains of a tower. A lake of sorts with a stone bridge extending over the water toward, all the way to a small island. Crowning it was a dilapidated tower of stone, ivy crawling up the side of it. A ruin of some bygone age, but the tower wasn't what was important – it was the dungeon beneath that attracted people to it.

A magical place, and one of the many junctures where ley lines crossed, where the mana would give birth to monsters. Dungeons, and how they worked, were poorly understood, but they'd stopped being any real danger a long time ago. Now, they were a source of profit, or a place of rare reagents not found in the outside world for mages and alchemists. As with most things, the passing of time and expansion of human civilization had turned wonder into margins and mystery to industry.

“Oi, lad!” One of the men called out, waving, just as they crossed the bridge. He had an idiot smile on his lips, a flat face and a nose that had clearly been broken more than once. “A good day to you fine folks.”

“See.” Alex was very smug, a half smirk pointed at her partner. “I told you. Not everyone is a threat.”

She'd said that, again and again. To Tyr, it sounded like nonsense – but she was convinced that he only found fights because he'd gone off 'looking for them'. In any case, these men didn't appear to be hostile. Some of them looked to be dead drunk, even at so early an hour.

“Names E, and you lords and ladies?” Erden was near the point of drooling. First there was the fact that they were clearly of nobility. All but for the white haired man were dressed in fine fitted leathers not dirtied by the road. Expensive clothes that typical students couldn't afford, capable of cleaning and repairing themselves. Northerners, at least two of them, which meant their families would be slow to learn of their unfortunate... Whatever the boss did with them. As for the white one, he appeared to be some sort of adventurer guide, and based on his kit, that silver wafer wasn't likely to impress any of them. Not all adventurers were fighters, after all.

Alex nodded to him. “Good day, adventurer.” Normally, she'd make it a point not to speak to men such as these – but after hearing Tyr exclaim that they were 'definitely suspicious', she had a point to make. “I am called Alex, and these are my associates – Astrid, Sigi, Tyr, and... Is-Iscar.” She left out the last syllable, it was better not to walk around announcing a heir primus, even if the men were unlikely to recognize the name.

It was the women for Erden, especially this one. Mages in general sold for a high price, but these women... He was certain he'd never seen women like this. Every spectrum of beauty was present. From the confident and businesslike girl with the black hair, the meek pink haired lass, and the strong one full of what one might call 'northern charm'. All three were peerless beauties, fit, clear eyed and straight backed.

The more unique, the more expensive. The more noble, the more enjoyable it was to break them before handing them over. He might even keep the one with the black hair. This Alex suited his tastes well. He was due a bonus, after all, and doubted the syndicate would mind. Erden didn't often put his hands in the cookie jar like the others.

“A pleasure. These are my boys, though I reckon you'll not need to know the same of this sorry lot.” He laughed, raising his hands in mock apology as his men booed and protested the joke. They seemed genuine, men of the road wearing all manner of blade at their hip, playing at various games or making furniture of the crumbled masonry.

“What are you doing here?” Tyr asked. Via the adventurers association, dungeons in this region were all 'claimed' by the guilds. Common adventurers couldn't enter a dungeon without being a member of those guilds, or receiving a permit – one that had been secured on their behalf via the academy. He'd not seen one so closely, but he was aware that they guarded and patrolled the dungeons on paid contracts, given something like eighty percent of all profit – only paying a retention fee of some sort. Meaning, these must be guild men. A sorry lot they were, three below average mages and eighteen other men of no apparent talent. Based on what he'd heard, Tyr had expected better.

“Oh, just restin' before heading back in, you?” Erden was still smiling, he'd always been a good actor and liar. Just then, a voice whispered in his ear.

Four of the five are pretty talented. A rank students, maybe. Two of them definitely are, we need to use the artifact.

Acknowledged. You said four though, what's up with that?

Nothing to worry about, some adventurers carry broad spectrum concealment wards so this is completely normal. There are monsters that hunt with magic, but I doubt he's a monster hunter. Probably a scout of some kind.

“Oh?” Tyr tilted his head, staring the man directly in the eye. He'd felt a buzzing in the air around the mans skull for a brief second before it'd vanished. “What guild are you with?” He didn't see any badges or standard, and most of their equipment was in a poor state. No badges, no transit wagons. Guilds were a proud lot that fancied themselves equivalent to a knight chapter, some were even run by well known crime families. They all had one thing in common though, and that was their want for clout. No guild would allow their men to march about looking like hoodlums. Of those he could see - only their leader, this 'E', was anywhere approaching 'well dressed'.

Erden's mask slipped ever so slightly, turning his head toward the youth for the first time. He was dressed for the road with the signs of it on him, but he didn't look like much. Tall and broad shouldered, meaty in the right places – but that wouldn't save him from a dirk between the ribs. Too handsome, but not so much as the noble man standing behind him. Perhaps not just an adventurer, but a knight or retainer, they didn't usually come that young but it was possible. Erden didn't like the way he was being stared at in the least bit.

Threat assessment on the white one?

D rank, at best. Maybe worse. He barely registers as a mage to my array.

Target him first. These kids are one thing but he might be guilded and I don't want him slipping away when it starts.

Understood.

“Oh, an adventurer!” Erden inched forward, and in response Tyr unlooped his sword belt and allowed it to rest meaningfully across his knee. “No need for that, my boy. We're...”

Tell him that we're in Scarlet. They are a very well known syndicate family in Milano that run a guild in this region. It'll run him off our trail, possible spook him off – we can't implicate Hastur.

Their client, it was a wise move. That one had always been quick witted – but he was a poor actor and halflings were discriminated against by some. Never the face, Petyr was the brains behind the operation.

“Alright, lad. You got me.” Erden raised his hands helplessly. “Keep a secret between us?”

Tyr shrugged, letting his thumb rest across his pommel as the others remained at the rear. Not visible was the scathing look Alex was burning into the back of his head. But he could feel it, with Tyr acting so thuggish for no reason. No doubt she'd be angry after their very recent discussion. If not that, then the fact that he'd shouldered past them and taken the lead – cutting her off.

“We're Scarlet, see. As you might imagine, for a silver rank adventurer yourself – we don't exactly want to be... Advertising. Savvy?”

“That makes sense.” Tyr nodded, visibly relaxing. His shoulders to sag and bursting into laughter. “Apologies, brother. I've been so long on the road I forgot what the face of a friend looked like. Well met. Where are you from? Milano?”

Tyr had no idea who or what 'Scarlet' was. He knew of a few guilds, but he'd never heard of them. It sounded official enough. Something was bugging him, though. Instinct, a poor justification for doing what he wanted to in this moment with no other cause, but it was there.

“Well recognized, sir. Milanese born and raised.” Erden beamed up at the boy, satisfaction at another successful operation welling up in his gut. He was a sadistic man, luring these people in to feel safe and sound by the campfire before binding and gagging them. Relieving them of their positions, their lives included. Taking a bit more if the men had a mind for it. Men, boys, women, it didn't matter. A good roll or five would break them down and make things easier. Wouldn't hurt their worth so long as they kept the bruising to a minimum and didn't touch the face.

“I see.” Tyr hopped from his horse, sending it back to the other side of the bridge with a whistle. He attempted to throw some signs back to the others, as he would with the blackguard, telling them to stay put. But they only stared at him in confusion.

Shit. They could die... He felt a panic rising in his gut, but Tyr had no other option than to let it play out. With their magic, and Iscari, there was no way they could lose. If they were injured, both he and Astrid possessed healing magic. Not the best healing magic, but it could be the difference between life and death. If he jumped the gun too soon, he'd either ruin any future relationship with everyone – Iscari included. Or, it'd all erupt into a confused melee and they could get hurt.

E draped his hand over Tyr's shoulder and guided him across the bridge. Tyr had to admit, it was a good trap – and this man was exceptional at the game. If he'd not had the knowledge gained from many years doing the same thing, he might've fallen for it.

Then again, he was stuck. Was Alex right about him? Were these completely normal guild men? No. Tyr knew. She was wrong.

If not for the two mages that Tyr could smell cleverly concealed behind the stones – he might've not been so sure. But most of all, it was how the man spoke. 'Savvy'. All human nations that he was aware of had adopted common, but they each had their own manner of speaking. Tyr wasn't worldly, but it had immediately alerted him to the fact that not only was this man Harani – but also an apostate mage judging by the mark on his hand. Guilds didn't hire apostates, or the inquisition would pay them a visit, but they were more than able to contract expat college mages. Not all mages lived and died in the empires, some were allowed to leave, on the expectation that if they ever come back they'll get right back to it.

“Lads.” Tyr offered a shallow bow toward the rogues and ruffians surrounding the campfire, earning himself a laugh and a few good humored bows of their own. Men on the road didn't act that way, but this was the game. The old adage of the wolf in sheep's clothing. He'd practically mastered the emulation of 'normal' behavior, with very little tells or ticks to alert anyone to his duplicity. E could play it, but Tyr was far better.

Or at least, he would be. He was still conflicted. In lieu of allowing them to sink deeper into the jaws of danger, Tyr sighed. Honesty was the best policy, and surely these men wouldn't think that they could handle five mages on their own? There wasn't a paladin or templar among them, nothing to indicate that they were mage hunters of any stripe. As for artifacts, only a handful and none seemed very impressive. Tyr's knowledge was lacking and he was easily impressed by magic artifice, but even he'd spit on this bargain bin garbage.

“Fellas. This can play out one of two ways. See, I made a promise to someone – a promise I'd very much like not to break. I know who you are, and what you do. I'll give you a thousand credits – right here and now – if you let us go on our way.”

Erden's mask dropped in an instant. His whimsical smile faded from his face to replace itself with a malicious smirk that seemed far more natural in comparison.

“A thousand credits?” A thousand credits was a lot of money. Even split between them all, each and every one could live the next few years comfortably – free from the dangers of the road. Become landed men in any of the various nations. Or, whore and drink without care for several years before being broke again.

Every man had a price. But 'right now' indicated either a bluff, or the fact that the boy had at least that much on his person. Dimensional rings were near impossible to crack, if the bound owner was alive, that is. Erden was no fool.

“How about that second option?” He didn't believe this ragged adventurer had ten marks to rub together, let alone a thousand credits. A thousand marks to throw around like that was the wealth of a merchant prince, but it was possible enough not to call it the lie that it likely was. “Let's not rush to a decision yet, lads. I think we might be able to make a better deal, don't you? My pa always said never shake at first offer.”

“Aye.” They'd risen now, all of the men. Swords, axes, maces, bows, spears held loose in their hands. For some reason, they didn't seem to fear mages despite not possessing much magical talent themselves.

Orders?

Get ready to plant the artifact.

Roger.

“The second option...” Tyr's face turned to stone, any luster in his eyes dimming until they were that of a dead man. “Please don't make me do this.”

“Humor me.” Erden chuckled. He'd seen men try to bluff their way through danger, but this whelp was an arrogant one. There wasn't an ounce of fear in his eyes, no tremor, no quickening of breath or flutter in his eyes as he tried to figure out how he'd save his own skin. He was so still Erden thought he really might have passed out on his feet.

“Tyr...” Alex asked, craning her neck over his shoulder. “What's going on?” Despite her wish for him to approach a situation without violence, she had a spell in each hand. Iscari's face was hard, leaving the task to his friend and person he trusted the most in the group. He'd never let him down before, and might be offended if he offered his protection – but he was ready. He thought...

“The second option is...” Tyr was conflicted, pausing for a moment to reflect. He could feel the two other mages preparing spells from their hiding places. He had to be dramatic to have any chance of living up to his promise. If money didn't interest them, then fear would. “I take you all apart, including your two buddies over there who think that I can't smell the filth in them. I will peel you like an apple and leave you to dry in the sun. Like the flies that you are, I will pluck your wings and burn you alive. Mad, skinless, begging for an end. I promise you this as a Blackwatch Vindicator. You are no match for me, and you are not the first band of miscreants I've put to the torch.”

Not technically a lie... He was touched by Thanatos and didn't think the deity would care if Tyr claimed to be one of his chosen. The very few templar equivalents that existed under the darkness pillar symbolic of death and its associated gods, undead hunters. He'd never met one but they had keeps and fortresses in the far south. Sentinels, Black Templars, Blackwatch, lots of 'black' or 'grave' or 'rosary' iconography. They had a lot of names, but the Blackwatch specifically were located in Oresund. Hard to confirm or deny the claim that way. They weren't necessarily sworn to Thanatos specifically, for the most part, but Thanatos was the only 'known' death god currently doing much of anything so...

He hoped it wouldn't come to it. Prayed even. He did what he could to strike some fear in them, but it didn't work. There was steel here, men of the open sky who'd robbed and raped and killed with abandon. Long enough to temper them brittle.

“What the hell is that!? Blackwatch? What a stupid name!”

The bandits, or whatever they were, laughed. Loud and hearty, not falling for the bluff. They'd seen killers, and while this boy might have a sword at his waist – he was no killer. His body was unmarred by a scar of any kind, and his hands were smooth. As his spirit was refined, so was all things physical about Tyr. His callouses faded, and his already clear skin was as fresh and new as a baby. It made him look younger, and softer, but beneath it all was a body forged of iron, rippling muscle and not an ounce of fat. He must've appeared a fresh knight or a house man to anyone with eyes, and given his fineness of complexion he did look younger than he actually was. But in terms of capability, Tyr was stronger than he'd ever been, with no need for magic.

Erden didn't laugh, though his smirk widened into a smile once again. The lad did have talent after all, if he'd grown up a bit and gotten a bit more rougher looking – Erden himself might've believed it. Took a person who'd seen some things to have eyes like that. “You're a brave one. Got a sword, and some magic in you. Why follow this fop?” He jabbed his thumb in Iscari's direction. “Nobles are no good, doubt he'll pay you more than I can. What say you take up with us, little brother? We could use a big man like you, and I'll match whatever your stipend is and double it. Once we and our fellows are done picking apart the academy, our employer could sweeten the pot based on your performance. You know I make fifty marks a week on post? That's about thirty five sovereigns since you know I'm born Harani. Not bad, right?””

He was impressed. Some men would try to keep a brave face, but be all knots beneath. The others were – he could see it – even the bitch who'd prepared her magic for the fight. But this one... Suffice it to say that Erden was well impressed by his temperament, no longer interested in simply killing him. Men like that were rare enough. The arms and bearing of a knight but none of the pompous finery and foolery, a boy with a story to tell.

A story that Erden would very much like to hear.

“I'm happy with my employment.” This reply earned a laugh from the captain, a wry chuckle as his arrogant smirk returned. Too bad.

Drop it.

Roger.

Petyr did as he was commanded, and the mana began to flee the surroundings. They'd found it beneath the earth, deeper than others had gone. Alongside their employer, they'd plumbed the secret depths of the place and come across it. Losing three score of men in the process, but it was worth it. Erden had of an artifact that could so heavily dampen magic. That's why they always traveled with the mercenaries at their back, mages weren't ready for magic this rare.

Alex panicked, shaking her hands as the flickering lightning within her dimmed and fell silent. Her further attempts to cast were inexplicably all failures. There wasn't an array in sight, how were these men possible of silencing her without magic of their own?

Tyr, however, was undaunted. The world of magic was still very alien to him. From his perspective, anything was possible before the power of magic, and he didn't need it. He drew his sword, allowing the men to appreciate the dappled light spilled from the mirror sheen of it. A magic sword, their eyes becoming greedy as they beheld it.

It looks like he'd have to break his promise after all. Not a day after he'd made it. There was nothing to do but ensure that they understand just how important that promise had been to him.