Irwyn reached the first fields in just a few hours, the sun still a while before its zenith. He had expected as much as they were vaguely marked on the map. He was headed towards a village that was not even named and he would likely not even directly enter. The forest road had vaguely connected to a much more trod dirt path that farmers used to better access their fields, however, if the old map was still accurate the field path would eventually split into two, one leading into the village and the other connecting to the only real road leading out of the village. A barely maintained gravel path that went almost directly to the city of Drathsol, the place the farming settlement exported their crops to. Since he had more than enough supplies he would avoid the village altogether and hopefully reach Drathsol before dusk.

That part of the journey started off as he would have expected, just a boring walk through the countryside. He made it past the split without issue, not meeting a soul on the way, at most he saw some people working the fields in the distance. Then he was on his way to Drathsol, on a path that should connect to a proper trade road just about a 10-minute walk before the city itself. Unfortunately, there was a sudden and jarring interruption as Irwyn came up upon a wagon standing by the side of the road. It was one of those travelling merchant carts that doubled up as a portable shop with a window on the side. Except, Irwyn noted, that there was no horse to pull it, in fact, there was strangely not even the harness and supports for such purpose that horse-driven vehicles almost universally had, nor was there a seat for the driver. Irwyn was going to pass right by it when the window suddenly opened and from it came a burst of magic Irwyn had not perceived at all the moment before. He jumped back and brought flames just beneath to his fingertips, ready to immediately defend from an attack. However, none came. Instead, a voice called out.

“Good post-morning to you my friend!” a man exclaimed from within the coach. “Now you shouldn’t be so on edge, it does no favours to your health. Youth should be enjoyed, not spent jumping at shadows.”

“Who are you?” Irwyn looked at the man with a frown for he felt, without a doubt, a significant amount of magic that he was not even trying to hide. How much exactly was difficult to judge; Irwyn had never gotten a measure of the shadow and the fae were… different than humans in the way they radiated power, at least as far as Irwyn was able to tell. He could, however, feel that this man was seemingly holding significantly more raw magic than Rage or Alira had. And then there was the strange flavour of his magic. Two nights ago Irwyn would have had no clue what it was, however, he felt that it was vaguely similar to the fae that took the form of empty but not-actually-empty space. And that one seemed to have a relation to both Time/Space and Fate/Causality. Maybe their merger, like Irwyn's Light and Flame became Starfire, though that was just conjecture.

“...an extraordinary travelling merchant, though you may call me Bhaak,” the man slightly bowed as Irwyn realised he had missed the start of the sentence, lost in his thoughts. Stupid to not pay attention when I could be attacked, Irwyn admonished himself. “But it is rude to take introduction but not introduce in turn, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I am Irwyn. What are you doing here, this is not exactly a prime trading spot,” and what mage in their right mind would work as a merchant? It was more than suspicious.

“Awaiting a customer, of course,” the man chuckled. “And by the looks of it, I may have been awaiting you.”

“That does not make much sense,” Irwyn frowned, more suspicious by the second. This road was scarcely travelled and connected Drathsol only with a bunch of farmers, maybe some average craftsmen at best. Definitely not where you would hunt for customers. That being said, Irwyn suspected it had something to do with the Fate magic the man seemed to possess. Did he divine I would come here? but that would contradict the fae who made it sound like tracking him through divination would be exceptionally difficult, maybe even impossible.

“I go where I need to go to achieve the best bargains,” the man waved his hand. “If I relied only on what makes sense I would hardly earn much the way I do business. You see, I specialise in providing what my customers need, often before they realise it themselves. So, what do you need?” Irwyn felt the magic in those last words as something intangible twisted. It tried to reach out faster than he could react but when it touched him it just snapped back. Rebounded. Irwyn took another step back.

“What did you just do?” Irwyn really contemplated summoning a wall of flame between them that very moment. He was probably exposed as a caster anyway. He did not, however, want things to turn hostile against this mage of unknown power and affiliation.

“You are very sensitive for your age,” the man shrugged, still completely casual despite Irwyn’s growing wariness. “Unless, that’s not your real age? Are you a shapeshifter of some sort? It would explain why your Fate is so tangled up. But you wouldn’t be that twitchy if you were older, I guess.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Yes, yes. Definitely as young as you look,” the man sighed over-dramatically. “I just attempted a bit of reading. A minor divination if you would. I specialise in getting customers exactly what they need after all. It can be hard to sell a cure to a disease they don’t suffer from yet without a bit of help. But I can do it well enough without a crutch, just watch me. Much can be learned from observation and the surroundings. Where am I, actually?” the man asked the question to the air and Irwyn felt magic shift but not towards him this time. It seemingly did not move away from Bhaak before it scattered. “Yes, yes. Coming from a farming village with nothing else in sight but you don’t clothe like that, especially that cloak. What sort of rogue would wear that in a small community? So you are avoiding something or someone, going off the big road but don’t feel so wanted that you would avoid roads and settlements altogether. Very sensitive to magic at your age but I don’t see no heraldry, no sign of allegiance. A young rogue mage then?” he eyed Irwyn whose poker face was too strong to give anything over the guess. Internally, he was freaking out though.

“Well, I shouldn’t pry into the exact backgrounds of my clients. Unless you need someone to share with, of course. I offer therapeutic chats pro bono with any trade! No? Well, back to what you need. A young man trying to keep away from someone. Perhaps… Do you have a mask to hide your face?”

“No…” Irwyn answered after a few seconds of hesitation. Bhaak was drawing a lot of conclusions that could be potentially dangerous to Irwyn if they reached the wrong ears, however, it was probably riskier to just walk away in the middle of the conversation. The man did not seem like he would detain or hurt Irwyn despite most like being more than capable of doing so. As long as he remained happy, that is.

“That will do then!” Bhaak nodded with satisfaction. He waved his hand and Irwyn felt something contort, fall apart and then come back together. Then a whole counter appeared in front of the man, layered with masks of all kinds and make. From simple cloth to opulent artisan pieces carved into gold. Irwyn stared at it and baulked. There had to be dozens; in fact, Irwyn could see way more than could reasonably fit on the counter. The edges were strangely blurred and the spacial geometry of it made no logical sense, however, Irwyn’s eyes could see all of them just fine. There was definitely some magic going on, but he did not possess the knowledge to figure out what was expanding beyond that space was manipulated to fit more into less. And that the magic was chock full of intention to the point Irwyn could not begin to guess what was what.

“This… is a lot,” Irwyn hesitated. Just taking in the number of masks a collector would not scoff at made him feel strange.

“Just look and see what catches your eye,” Bhaak smiled. “If nothing does, perhaps I can offer something else. I believe we can come to a mutual bargain. I always do!”

With that said, Irwyn humoured him. Trusting a stranger was usually very low on the list of things Irwyn did, however, feeling like the stranger could theoretically easily erase Irwyn from existence with whatever offensive magic Time caster used sure did do wonders for Irwyn’s willingness to cooperate; unless they crossed a line, that is.

The mask themselves were impressive. Irwyn’s eyes did not linger at the opulent carvings into various metals. Not to mention how expensive those would have to be, they stood out too much. Just cloth to cover his face did not sit right with Irwyn either though. The ones on display were a bit too brightly coloured and if Irwyn were to use cloth to cover up his face he might as well just burn eye-holes into rags.

What was far more promising were the wooden masks. They were well carved and most coloured, however, it was clearly ‘an hour or two of effort by an experienced craftsman’ rather than ‘a master artisan spent a year on this’ kind of quality. Some were bright and otherwordly, depicting myriad colours and striking creatures, those Irwyn dismissed from his sight. He was looking to hide his face, not wear something even more memorable. What fit his needs better were the animal masks. His eyes quickly went to the birds, he was a Fowl after all. It would be fitting. One colour scheme in particular captured his attention: A black beak and shades of gray adorned it. Could it be…?

“The mockingbird mask,” Bhaak announced, and Irwyn snapped back to attention. He had completely lost his guard again. Perhaps there is some such magic at play here, Irwyn shuddered. He hoped that he usually wasn’t this careless. Unfortunately, the whole coach was too heavily enchanted for Irwyn to tell what they were actually each doing. He looked back at the counter and realised that the mask he had been eyeing at the end was the only one he could see. No matter where at the counter he looked, he would be always staring directly at it while all the others were simply gone. Another casual display of twisting space.

“You clearly went for the bird masks right away. Bird… Fowl. We are in the Duchy of Black after all,” the man quickly reached another conclusion. “The Guild is still around, yes? What’s happened around here lately?” another blast of magic erupted from the man and seemingly dissipated into the air. “I see. Well, I have to say, becoming a Fowl at your age is impressive, Young Mockingbird,” Irwyn felt his usually solid poker face almost shatter. There were two possibilities. Either the man had known from the beginning or he could just instantly find out recent news very few people knew about. After all, whatever letters the Old Crow had sent out, it would have been sent only a few days ago and information in the guild tended to spread downwards gradually as rumours rather than mass announcements. And if he had that power, what more could he just as easily find out?

“Yeah, I can see why you would be this careful. Branch of house Blackburg is somehow involved? More details. Yeah, an injured heiress is… Ouch. Well, they don’t seem to have your sketches in circulation yet for some reason, not even a proper description so someone might have helped you out,” the man kept breaking every expectation. “Well, no need to fret. I have never once in my life let slip a customer’s secret. Not an important one, anyway. But maybe it will help to say you have actually met 2 of my older customers?”

“I have?” Irwyn questioned, decisively choosing not to do the same about how Bhaak had determined that. He had given up grasping any control and decided to be lead by the self-proclaimed merchant for the time being.

“Yes. Old Crow for one. I assume you know him well enough considering he pretty much declared you a Fowl,” Bhaak nodded his head. “How is the ancient bugger doing? I have some of his favourite tea in stock when he runs out. Though he apparently stopped drinking after the last Lich war.”

“You sold him tea of all things?” Irwyn looked at Bhaak strangely but felt a big portion of the tension leave him. It was one thing to meet an enigma of a caster, another for them to be someone who knew someone. And Old Crow was not just anyone but someone who had been a Fowl as far as anyone could remember. And the man had no real need to deceive Irwyn.

“Well, he likes a blend that doesn’t grow in the Duchy Federation,” the man shrugged. “Though anything beyond that goes under client confidentiality. You can ask him yourself if you want to. That being said, here, the mask,” it appeared in Bhaaks hand as he stretched it out towards Irwyn.

“We haven’t agreed on a price,” Irwyn said warily out of habit. Better to know what something is worth before taking it.

“Let’s see, a mockingbird mask, full face. This one was made… More details… In Steelmire. Huh. Anyway, it’s lightly enchanted to fit better and not restrain the line of sight, though it’s made to be really hard to detect the magic within. Whoever made this definitely did it with stealth and infiltration in mind. As for the cost. Well, I am not in the business of beggaring my clients. Since that is the case, I will take that thing behind your left ear for it.”

“Behind my ear?” Irwyn asked and reached there despite not feeling anything with his skin. However, as soon as his fingers reached up it became clear that something was indeed placed there. He grabbed it and brought it before his eyes but the object was completely invisible. All he could figure out was that it was a rod with a bulb at the end. Or maybe more of a stem? Irwyn thought it might be a flower, though he still could not see it nor feel any magic from it. “What is this?”

“An orchid of impresence. It comes from my other client you have met,” Bhaak grinned. “She, and only she, can make these. As many as she damn pleases, apparently, though that doesn’t mean she does. They are a collector’s items in some circles and she makes damn sure they remain sparse so that she can extort me with a bunch of them every once in a while.”

“The fae?” Irwyn realised the obvious culprit. Invisible yet clearly there? That did fit the description of one of them as well as the flower. “The one they called… ‘fatty’ I think.”

“Well, that name doesn’t really matter when dealing with them,” Bhaak shrugged. “They ain’t got a name until they have a Name, if you catch my drift. Most of them just chose or get their nicknames chosen randomly and change those around pretty frequently. Thinking about it, it was probably the orchid which brought me here. Your Fate is way too convoluted for me to just stumbled into it. Bah, I will have to get her a referral fee. Anyway, the mask for the orchid. You wouldn’t have anyone to sell it to anyway.”

“I am hardly a great client, all things considered,” Irwyn had to admit as the mask and flower exchanged hands. Paying essentially nothing for an enchanted mask was too much of a bargain to reject. Even if the orchid could be worth much more, it had uncertain value and no clue on where to sell it. The mask would help him in the immediate future, Irwyn was already thinking about when he would and wouldn’t use it.

“Don’t worry too much about it, you will make it up to me next time,” Bhaak just laughed.

“You seem… sure that we will meet again,” Irwyn observed, hoping to get an explanation.

“Well obviously. The fae don’t recommend just anyone,” Bhaak spoke matter of factly. “You see, I only ever make 2 types of new customers. People who are at the last stretch of their lives and people who are at the start of a meteoric rise. Well, sometimes both, but that’s Fate for you. If you live long enough, you will want to buy stuff that makes the mask’s worth look like a grain of sand in the desert in comparison. And of course, I will be there to provide. Maybe next time maybe you will sell me that little thing in your money pouch.” the man said and Irwyn’s heart skipped a beat after having mostly relaxed. He had almost forgotten about it but it was there nonetheless. Hidden in Irwyn’s pouch. The crystallised bud of a flower he had found in an abandoned laboratory beneath Ebon Respite. Growing from the skull of a deceased Magelord. Something of value so great Irwyn had no frame of reference as to what it was actually worth. And the man clearly knew about it.

“Do you take me for a bandit?” Bhaak shook his head in an exaggerated manner, clearly noticing Irwyn’s spike of distress. “Though, of course, when you figure out what you need I would be happy to take that off your hands. Usually, I would find you when that time comes but you are a bit more troublesome, huh. Alright, keep this a secret but when you really want to trade with me, you should find someone really important, or another customer, and ask them to say my name 3 times. I will probably get to them within a week unless something extra exciting catches my attention so stick around. Don't abuse this, though. I am a busy trader. Alright, that concludes our business I suppose. You don’t seem in the mood for chatting. Adios!” the man exclaimed as he fully withdrew into his coach.

The window on the side flew shut the moment he finished speaking and then Irwyn felt magic spike sharply. He had the time to take 2 steps back before it happened. Magic rose and rose and rose. Then the world changed. Irwyn’s vision swam as his mind struggled to comprehend the sheer complexity of the magics at play. Unlike in the vision, he had to rely on his own senses and knowledge which were completely inadequate. At some point, Irwyn fell on his butt and sat there for several seconds which felt like minutes. Then the magic was gone, leaving behind only an undirected fraction of itself. Irwyn looked up a moment later and the cart was no longer there. Nor was it anywhere in sight.

Of course he just teleports around, Irwyn cursed and massaged his eyes. The man was so far above what he could understand or deal with. At least he was gone. Irwyn certainly had no intention of calling on him for the time being.

He put the mask into his backpack and returned to his path towards the city of Drathsol, his head growing ever heavier with thoughts about the experience.