“What do you think I’m good at?” Tristan asked as he and Jayce sat for breakfast on their free day. The thought had come to him when he woke up that morning. Master Wraithen had told him to come back when he knew the answer but what if the answer was nothing.

Jayce looked up from fingering a shiny button that had fallen off his coat. “You’re good at asking random questions first thing in the morning while I'm still half asleep,” he said.

“Thanks, but seriously.”

“I am serious, it's a real talent, hoa.”

“You give any thought to what we're gonna call our squad?” Tristan asked, changing the subject.

Jayce, who was in the process of trying to fit a whole boiled egg in his mouth, grunted a response

“I’m thinking, something like Dawnstars,” said Tristan. “Or maybe Talons of Fury, that has a good ring to it.”

Jayce choked down the egg and wiped his watering eyes.

“No offense, hoa. But one thing you’re not good at is naming things. Besides, we can’t decide on a name until Luna’s back.”

“Where is she?” Tristan asked.

“Don't know,” said Jayce. “She has a habit of slipping out of the academy before anyone else wakes up.”

“I've noticed,” said Tristan.

Tristan caught the scent of cardamom and smoke in the air and the smell distracted him from his thoughts. He had smelt the same combination often in the Great Hall.

He turned in his seat and saw a silver tray floating up to their table. On it was a white envelope with Tristan’s name on it.

“It's for you,” said Jayce.

“Can you smell that?” Tristan asked.

Jayce took a bite of his toast and shrugged.

Tristan opened the envelope and read the letter to himself.

*

Tristan Bell

We await your first payment towards the academy’s repair fees. Ten silvers per month as agreed upon. One hundred silvers in total to be paid in full by the summer solstice.

All payments to be made through MagiMail.

Regards

Credeus Clearwater

Secretary of Tempest.

*

He’d all but forgotten about his promise to the Headmaster.

Where he was going to get the coins, that he was less certain about.

“Why is the only mail I get bad news,” Tristan moaned.

He wrinkled his nose as an idea began forming in his head.

“What is it?” asked Jayce.

Tristan absently handed him the letter, his mind still deep in thought.

“What?” Jayce blurted out. “How is that even possible, hoa?”

Tristan waved a hand at his friend. “It's a long story,” he said.

A plan took shape in his mind. The hero was from his world. That seemed obvious and the hero had taken all the easy ideas from Tristan’s world and capitalized on them in Umbra. The only ideas left were risky ideas. The ones that were not worth the hero’s time.

“Does the MagiMail deliver outside the academy?” he asked.

Jayce shrugged. “Of course, what would be the point if they just delivered here. But that's not the issue. One hundred silver. That's more than most people will ever see.”

“Don't worry my friend,” said Tristan. “I've got this.”

“Something tells me I’m not going to like your plan,” said Jayce.

Tristan laughed. “No you’re not, but I don't have a choice.”

“We’ll not you gotta tell me, hoa,” said Jayce.

Tristan rubbed his hands together. “If it works I’ll let you know all about it. If not, I might need you to bail me out of jail.”

They stood up from the table. “What happened to my button?” Jayce asked. He patted his pockets. “It just disappeared.”

It was a warm winter's day and the walk into town was slow and uneventful. Students sat in parks eating ice creams and a few food merchants walked the streets selling bags of salted nuts and sun dried fish sticks.

Jayce threw a handful of nuts into his mouth then offered the bag to Tristan.

“Did that beggar you gave a silver to, ever get back to you with news about Scarlet?” Jayce asked as the pair arrived outside a shop on the far side of town called Scribble & Scriveners.

“Nope,” said Tristan. He still hadn't told Jayce what Aurelian had said about the Crimson Guard’s search for Scarlet.

“Guess that’s a silver wasted, hoa.”

“Maybe,” Tristan replied. “I see it as a seed, you know you can’t reap if you don’t sow.”

“Did you read that in a fortune cookie?” asked Jayce.

Tristan laughed. “Something like that.” He knew he couldn't tell Jayce about Scarlet. If the Crimson Guard were after her then she was probably already in their custody. That kind of news would only hurt his friend.

***

A bell rang as the pair entered Scribble & Scriveners.

The shop was what you’d expect of a stationary store, but they also sold coffee, doughnuts, fortune telling cards, newspapers, art supplies and books on every subject you could imagine.

“Some magi went mad and was taken to the Temple of Belladeon,” said Jayce, who stood in the middle of the aisle flicking through a newspaper. “And an Aressean nobel was murdered in his house.”

Tristan looked up from the stack of envelopes he was going through. “Anyone we know?” he asked.

Jayce scratched his head. “Cassaden Townsend was found killed in his mansion,” he read, “The name sounds familiar though.”

“You know a lot of nobles?” Tristan asked with a smile.

Jayce waved the newspaper at him. “I might be a fisherman but I know some about the fancy folk. What do you think it all means?” he asked.

“Magi going mad, nobles killed,” said Tristan. “Malice is on the move.”

Jayce winced. “You know it's strange, you’d think there’d be something in this paper about the dragon being let loose on Umbra.”

Tristan nodded. “He seems to be biding his time. I wonder what he’s up to?”

“Well we ain't going to find the answer to that in a stationary store,” said Jayce. He smiled at Tristan. “What you got over there?”

Tristan held out a stack of ornately decorated envelopes and a wad of bleached paper.

“That's not going to be cheap,” said Jayce. “I thought the plan was to make money, not spend it.”

“I am,” Tristan replied.

“Then why are you buying the fancy envelopes?”

“You only get one chance to make a first impression,” said Tristan.

“I hope this works, hoa.”

“Do you trust me?” asked Tristan.

Jayce smiled. “I do but I probably shouldn't.”

“Good,” said Tristan. “I need to borrow some money.”

“You’re kidding, hoa.”

“Don't worry you'll get it back.”

Jayce pulled out his coin purse and handed it to Tristan. “You’re a bad influence, hoa.”

“When was the last time you visited a temple?” asked Tristan.

“I didn't think you were religious?”

“There's something about the world falling apart that makes even the hardest cynic a bit religious,” said Tristan.

***

Nine ancient buildings sat in a circle in the very heart of Aressea. It was obvious that they were all once temples but all but one of them had been repurposed. One was converted into a baron’s mansion, another into an auditorium and the largest of the nine was converted into a bank. The other five were now council buildings. Only the Temple of Belladeon still retained its purpose. The temple was a towering white building with dark wooden beams and heavy oak doors with iron linings. Elegant pillars held up a golden slated roof and outside in the modest garden swung seven human sized wooden wind chimes. The chimes made hollow inharmonic clunking sounds as they gently collided in their endless dance.

Tristan and an uncomfortable looking Jayce climbed the stairs leading up to the oak doors.

“Why are we here again?” Jayce asked.

“Do you remember what Luna read in the library about the Magi not having authority over the temples.”

“So you think they are just going to let us walk in and use their library?” asked Jayce.

“That's exactly what I thought,” said Tristan as he pushed the double doors open and entered.

***

The sounds of deep throaty chanting balanced by running water permeated the inner temple. The air smelt floral and earthy with a faint undercurrent of sandalwood. Plants grew inside the temple and beams of light spilled into the room from sunlights in the rood and bounced around from large mirrors strategically positioned on the walls.

In the center of the room bathed in light was a statue of a woman, tall and beautiful with a snow white lion beside her and one hand resting on the lion's head.

“The blessings of the mother upon you, travelers,” said a voice that echoed around the room and merged with the melodious meditation music coming from some inner chamber.

A bald man dressed in a white robe trimmed in gold bowed his head to the two friends.

“Are you here to pay your respects to the blessed mother?” asked the man.

“Yes,” said Tristan. “We came to pay our respects as soon as we arrived in town.”

The man smiled broadly and bowed his head again. “You are welcome. Would you like to purchase an offering?”

“Oh, I unfortunately left my coin purse in my wagon,” said Tristan. “But next time I come I will be sure to make a generous offering.”

“Of course,” said the man, he bowed his head again and then wandered off down the passage and into the inner cloister.

As soon as the man was out of earshot Jayce slapped Tristan’s arm. “What are you doing, hoa? This is all sorts of blasphemy.”

“I thought you didn't believe in the old god's?” asked Tristan.

Jayce shook his head, then stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m not superstitious either but that doesn't mean I’d look into a shattered mirror or stand on someone's grave.”

“This is different,” said Tristan. “We’re looking for information, this place might have the answers we need. Let's just look around for a bit. If we find nothing we’ll leave.”

Jayce nodded.

They explored the outer rooms. Most were empty but one room contained large vessels filled with water or wine, probably wine thought Tristan. As they tried to enter the inner cloister two men dressed in gray stopped them.

“We are here to pay our respects,” said Tristan.

“The shrine is that way,” said the eldest man as he gestured the way they had just come from.

“We were hoping to see the library,” said Tristan.

“Not today,” said the man. “The Paladin and the council of elders are meeting inside.”

“Who is the Paladin?” Tristan asked.

The man's eyes narrowed. “A devout follower would know the answer to that question,” said the man.

As the two friends began to leave Tristan heard a low moaning sound coming from a small room that they had not yet explored.

He made his way to the door making sure that the two guards were not watching him.

“This is not a good idea,” said Jayce.

The wailing grew louder as they drew nearer. Tristan pushed open the door and saw rows of beds with sleeping patients.

He entered the room and Jayce tugged on his cloak.

Tristan ignored his friends’ protests.

“Faye Marple,” said Jayce, pointing at a girl lying in bed and staring up at the roof.

Tristan approached the bed. “Faye,” called Tristan.

The girl ignored him. He waved his hand in front of the girls face but she continued staring blankly at the roof.

Tristan passed one patient after another.

“Are they all magi?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jayce shook his head. “I hope not.”

As Tristan passed the bed of a woman dressed in a thin night shift. The woman looked down and her eyes fixed on Tristans.

“He calls to us,” said the woman.

“What?” asked Tristan.

“That’s Lady Hemlock,” said Jayce. “She was a Master at the academy.”

The woman continued to repeat herself over and over. Eventually the whole room began to chant the words growing louder each time.

“We should leave,” said Jayce.

Tristan nodded as he turned to leave, he bumped into a group of sullen looking monks.

“What are you doing here?” asked a bald woman.

“Leaving,” said Tristan.

A man dressed in gold armor entered the room and the monks stepped back from him. The man seemed to radiate light. Tristan’s head began to throb. The man stopped in front of Tristan and laid a hand on his shoulder. Instantly Tristan felt the pain subside. He saw a tattoo on the man's wrist, a silver sword with wings.

“There is a taint about you,” said the armored man. “Pray to the Blessed Mother that you might receive the salvation of your soul before it is too late.”

The man stepped past Tristan and into the room and the patients immediately fell silent again.

***

“You met the Paladin,” Luna said for the fifth time as the three friends sat in the common room in large squashy chairs in front of the fireplace

Tristan who sat with a stack of envelopes in his lap shrugged.

“I've already told you, he never said who he was but if he wasn't the Paladin then I’d hate to meet the person who is.”

“The Paladin is the head of the Temple of Belladeon,” said Luna. “He's rarely in Aressea. And you said he was there for a meeting with the council of elders?”

“We’ve been over this so many times,” said Jayce. “Can we talk about something else? I'm trying to forget that we lied to monks in a temple.” He looked at the roof. “If we get struck by lightning I'm going to kill you,” he said to Tristan.

“You said you wanted to meet to come up with a squad name,” said Tristan.

Luna nodded. “We need to submit our name by the end of the week or we’ll be assigned a generic title like blue team or something like that.”

Tristan shook his head. “Jayce says I'm no good at naming things,” he said. He folded a letter, inserted it into an envelope, licked the sticky part and sealed it out. He deposited the envelope on a pile and repeated the process with the next one.

“How about ‘The Piece Makers’,” said Luna as she eyed Tristan’s letter folding curiously.

Tristan shook his head. “We need something more fierce.”

“The Obliging Thugs,” said Luna.

Jayce laughed. “I like that one.”

“Really?” asked Tristan. “It sounds like highway robbers who say please and thank you whilst robbing you.”

“The Optimal Aces,” said Luna.

“Where are you getting these from?” asked Jayce. “Have you got a list in your pocket?”

Luna smiled sheepishly. “I've never been part of a… well anything really, so I’ve been thinking about names ever since our squad was formed.”

“That's sweet I guess,” said Tristan. “But it's most sad. How about you come up with a name that best suits our merry band of misfits and I'll just agree with whatever you say?”

“The Merry Misfits,” said Luna. “I like the sound of that.”

“Or just the Misfits,” said Jayce. “Easier for our fans to chant.”

“He's not wrong,” said Tristan.

“Ok the Misfits it is,” said Luna. She rounded on Tristan. “So, what are the envelopes for?”

Jayce opened a bag of dried fish sticks. “You don't want to know,” he said as he passed them around.

“No thanks,” said Luna, “I still don't eat meat.”

“It's fish,” said Jayce. “They’re basically vegetables.”

Luna laughed.

“Did you get a job sorting mail?” she asked.

Tristan smiled. “It's kinda a job.”

Luna picked a page up and read it out loud.

“Claim your large inheritance from a wealthy benefactor that has passed away.”

Luna frowned. “What is this?”

She picked up another letter. ““Little Jimmy has the withering cough. Donate one silver coin to help him and his family.” Her eyes hardened. “Every little bit counts!”

She looked up at Tristan. “Are you kidding me?”

“I'm selling goodwill,” said Tristan.

“What?” asked Luna, a note of steel in her voice.

“I said you didn't want to know,” said Jayce.

“Listen,” said Tristan. “What is the worst thing in the world?”

“Death,” said Luna.

“No,” said Tristan.

“Starvation,” said Luna.

Tristan shook his head.

“Sickness?” said Jayce

“No,” said Tristan. “It's that feeling of hopelessness… feeling like you can't make a difference. I’m giving people something to believe in. Even if just for a moment. Just imagine how good it would feel to think you were about to receive a large inheritance or that you were helping a sick child to recover.”

Jayce frowned but he nodded. “But they’re not receiving it,” he said slowly as if he was still trying to wrap his head around what Tristan was saying.

“That's not the point,” said Tristan.

“You’re scamming people,” said Luna. “That's the business?”

“When you say it that way it doesn't sound good,” said Tristan. “I see it as more of a win-win situation. Giving me money will make these people feel good and at the same time they are investing in my education which I will use to make their lives better.”

“But you heard the Masters,” said Luna. “We can't help common folk.”

“Really?” Tristan said. “You’re a healer Luna, we both know that no law is going to stop you from healing anyone in need.”

Luna pushed the envelopes away from her and stood up from the desk. “You might be right, Tristan Bell, but there is such a thing as right and wrong. You can spin your fancy words any way you like but stealing is still stealing no matter what you call it.”

Luna crumpled the note and tossed it at Tristan, then stomped out of the room.

“Should I go after her?” Tristan asked as he began unfolding the crumpled letter.

“If you don't mind being kicked in the balls,” said Jayce.

“What really?

Jayce laughed. “Don't worry, hoa. She’ll come around. I think she’s more disappointed in you than angry.”

If Tristan wasn't already feeling bad, Jayce’s words made him feel even worse.