Wolf didn’t need his big brother’s warning. The moment he’d sensed murderous intent lock onto him, he had already fully awakened his senses.

A torrent of smells and sounds washed over him and flooded his mind, but the youth quickly filtered through them and found what he was looking for. The creaking of a bow, the twang of a bowstring and the wizzing of an arrow as it started its flight towards him.

All of this happened before South could finish his warning.

Wolf ducked. An arrow whistled above his head, with the resulting wind ruffling the youth’s shoulder length hair.

As the missile missed its intended target it continued onward, straight towards South. Or towards his bizarre wineskin, to be more precise. The arrow was about to hit the oddly shaped object when it suddenly froze in mid air.

South’s hand had moved at such ridiculous speed that nobody saw the motion happen. The drunkard held the arrow between his fingers, a hair’s width away from his cherished treasure.

South’s face turned dark as he snapped the arrow between his index and middle fingers.

“You dare attack my wine?” the bum growled, then disappeared.

His movement was so quick it seemed like he’d teleported. Even Wolf, with his fully awakened senses, failed to follow his big brother’s dash. At least a part of the reason was that his face was pressed against the white tablecloth from dodging.

The four remaining people were still trying to grasp the situation, and only Wolf turned towards the mouth of the alley.

A moment later South reappeared at the alley entrance. In one hand he still held his precious wineskin, while the other was covered in gore.

“I caught her. I think she wanted to say she was sorry,” the drunkard muttered while wiping the blood and slimy gray matter on his already grimy shirt.

South’s face was scary. Murderous rage seeped from his voice as he gave off an air of a god of war gone insane. Yet in an instant that grim aura he’d projected vanished without a trace. He’d once again become the same old amicable drunkard he was less than a minute ago.

The bum moved back to the table, seating himself next to his little brother. Then he leisurely took a swing from his wineskin. Everyone, save for Wolf, had their eyes trained on the drunkard’s movements, afraid they would become the maniac’s next victim.

Wolf recovered from shock first. He knew that his big brother was strong, but he had no idea South was that strong.

“Big brother?” he asked with a mix of excitement and awe.

“It’s all right. They were after my wineskin,” South slurred drunkenly and continued drinking. The sharp dangerous persona from a moment ago was nowhere to be found in this amiable sloppy drunkard.

Not even an idiot would believe such a flimsy lie. The arrow was obviously heading towards Wolf’s head and it would’ve pierced his skull like an egg, if not for the warning. At least that’s what the four people sitting at the table believed.

They never would’ve guessed that Wolf didn’t need the warning to dodge the arrow, nor did he didn’t need any help to deal with the assassin. In fact, if they weren’t as shocked as they were, they would’ve realized it required much greater reflexes to dodge an arrow after hearing the warning than it did to dodge as soon as you sensed the threat, the way Wolf did.

Wolf’s staggering performance went unnoticed as it was overshadowed by South’s actions.

Consequentially, the sloppy-looking drunkard suddenly became a mysterious powerhouse. Fast enough to issue a warning of an approaching arrow, his hands quick enough to catch the missile, and he even managed to kill the archer gods know where. All of this in a span of several seconds.

“We won’t talk about this incident, for all our sakes. Alright?” Wolf asked everyone gathered. While doing so he cast a Subtle Alter Memory on the old nanny. He didn’t have the time to go through fine tuning. He just wiped away all of her memories of the past two minutes or so. Anna, Wayde and the coachman nodded in agreement, while the chaperone’s eyes glazed over for a moment.

A dozen seconds later the coachman had the same vacant expression as memories of this incident disappeared from his mind. Inwardly Wolf cursed the fact that he’d only prepared three Subtle Alter Memory spells, not expecting the coachman to join the lunch party.

I can’t remove the memory from Anna and not Wayde, nor the other way around. It would be very suspicious if they tried discussing something like this and only one of them remembered it happening… After considering things for a moment, Wolf decided not to tamper with his friends’ memories. He’ll just have to believe their discretion.

The remainder of the lunch visit went by in silence. South kept chugging wine, Wolf didn’t bother talking and Anna and Wayde seemed to be too afraid to do anything other than mechanically eat.

Wolf kept trying to figure out who the assassin was and who’d sent her. But no matter how much he thought about it, he kept drawing a blank.

“It’s time, let us leave,” the old minder finally said half an hour after everyone was done with their meals.

The coachman respectfully tipped his hat and left to prepare the carriage.

“See you next week Big brother!” Wolf waved goodbye cheerfully and left.

“Goodbye sir South.” The chaperone curtsied respectfully and left. She was surprised by her action, but after this meal, for some unknown reason, she felt deep respect for this drunken bum.

Wayde tried imitating Wolf’s cheerful attitude and waved his goodbye. “See you Big brother!”

“Who’s your brother?!” South grumbled the same line once more.

“See you later drunkard.” Anna had mostly recovered from the incident and drew a parallel with a past incident. If she remembered well, South was standing next to her when she fainted. He probably knocked her out and then dealt with the situation.

“See you later little w… lady” Much to Anna’s surprise, South corrected himself all on his own.

The group returned to the Mage Academy, while South went back to his garbage heap. All the way back the old nanny read her book and stole glances at Wolf. Anna was calm and, just like on her way over she read her textbook.

Wayde on the other hand couldn’t focus and just stared blankly at his book without turning a page. He was busy, trying to come up with a way to recruit South. Finally the four of them arrived at the Mage Academy late in the afternoon.

When Wolf and Wayde got back into their room they talked late into the night. This was the first time Wolf had a conversation like this with someone of his age. He asked Wayde about a lot of things which interested him, while Wayde asked Wolf about magic and South.

Wolf told Wayde everything his friend wanted to know about magic, but he couldn’t answer any questions regarding South. That was because of the first rule of the beggar creed, as Wolf called it.

The only thing he knew about his big brother was that he was his big brother, an incurable alcoholic and a force to be reckoned with. Wolf also remembered one more thing. He told Wayde that South claimed to come from the land down under, whatever that meant. Unfortunately, Wayde didn’t get it any more than Wolf did, but suggested that South might be from Cranesword duchy down to the south-west of the Empire of Human.

Wolf left out a couple of things and was vague on purpose. For instance, he knew without a doubt that South’s body was much stronger than his own. But saying something like that would reveal him as a Body Refiner, which he wanted to keep as a trump card.

When it came to his personal information, Wolf took his father’s lessons seriously and developed a measure of paranoia and distrust. The only one he trusted with his secrets was South, and that was only because the old drunkard could read him like a wide open book. Even if Wolf wanted to hide something from his big brother, he was certain he didn’t stand a chance, unless South indulged him and pretended not to notice.

While Wayde sought knowledge and information on South, which Wolf more or less freely shared, the things which interested Wolf were of a considerably different nature.

Wolf asked about the youths going to the bordello, and Wayde told him of the perverse practices of aristocrats. Of the way common women were mistreated and abused as playthings, while noble women were used as bargaining chips and tools to cement relationships between houses.

Also the abuse of commoners wasn’t limited to women, nor was it only done by young nobles. Wayde once again mentioned that if not for his Mentor and savior, he might have suffered a very grim fate. A fate no small number of beggar children in Silver City suffered.

“I mean, how often do you get a chance to fuck the rightful Duke?” Wayde said, mocking himself and his own powerlessness.

He didn’t mention the fact that, if he were to lose his status as a student and support of his Mentor, there would still be a figurative line of people waiting to fuck him, even though he was no longer a child.

Despite the fact that he could usually control his face and voice, Wayde still shuddered. His lip twisted in disgust, but a moment later the youth regained his composure and blessed his benefactor aloud.

Wolf took this behavior as a good sign. Archibald often told him that you should feel gratitude towards your benefactors and that people who repaid kindness with injury were scum.

As for being able to loudly praise his benefactor and admit your weakness the way Wayde just had, Wolf believed it to be a sign of great character and powerful will.

***

Two youths talked their night away. Sometimes they spoke about serious things, sometimes about utter nonsense.

While their time passed peacefully, some people spent their night in a considerably less carefree manner.

“Sir, Shadow Three is dead,” a sharply dressed man named Albert reported to a well built man wearing a warm and comfortable burgundy colored house robe. “Shadow One and Shadow Two didn’t see a thing. They just found her on the rooftop with her head crushed like an egg.”

“Hmm, too bad,” the Marquess said with a sigh. “She was our best assassin and had a fine track record as a scout on top of that. Can we extract any information from the chaperone or the coachman?”

“I have already made an inquiry. Unfortunately, it will take some time before we get the report.” Albert paused for a moment before continuing.

As a proper majordomo he knew what his master would want. He also knew that the Marquess was asking for a timeframe, not whether or not it was possible to get the answers.

“We can expect the answers by midday tomorrow. Maybe in the morning, if our luck is good,” Albert said, hoping to pacify his master. What had happened today was a very expensive screw up.

“Tell me Albert, how can our luck be good?” the robed man replied dejectedly. “Our top assassin is dead. Our best scouts saw nothing. This Wolf boy is not as simple as he seems on the surface.

“His background is mysterious, and I have a feeling his backing is too strong. We’re cutting our losses and calling off this operation. My family isn’t the weakest, nor the poorest Marquess household. If this was an easy kill and easy money then I don’t see a reason to let others pick it up. However, seeing how things turned out, I think we should cut our losses and stay out of that boy’s way.”

The butler hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “As you say my Lord. I shall cancel our inquiries.”

“No, no, don’t cancel them. I want to know what happened and how we failed,” Marquess hurriedly said, but it was clear that he wasn’t chiding his majordomo.

“Yes my Lord.” With those words Albert turned around and left, while the robed man sipped on some wine and looked out the window.

“Interesting,” Marquess muttered while swirling his wine out of habit. “I wonder how many are going to end up being too greedy.

“Shadow One and Shadow Two reported that there are at least twenty players in this muddy game. And with so many people, this game smells like one which you win by not playing. It would be nice if this unknown faction took down some people who stand in my way…” The Marquess mulled over his thoughts aloud and leisurely enjoyed his wine at this late hour.

His luck appeared to be good. The report came in in the morning. Apparently, neither the old minder, nor the coachman remembered anything.

The only ones in the alley were the four of them and a beggar. Lord Skia had an inkling that the deed was done by the beggar. If that was the case, at least a Fifth Order spell was used to wipe the memories of the pair of servants. But there was an off chance that the magic used was Reforge Mind, a Tenth Order spell. The Marquess felt beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Sometimes you win by not playing,” he muttered and burned the report.

Training another assassin all the way up to Shadow Three’s level would cost the Skia family half a decade and five to ten thousand gold coins. Marquess had just wasted a fortune on a gamble.

Most gamblers would keep at the game, but with so many unknowns Marquess Skia didn’t want to go all in. After staying silent for several seconds he nodded his head and reaffirmed his decision. Unfortunately, making it had cost him a lot of money.

“Albert,” the man said into the Far Voice keyed to Albert’s. “If there’s any hint that this boy knows it was us who sent the assassin, buy a defective Monster Core of Ninth–” Then he remembered the potential that a pair of Tenth Order spells were cast on disposable help.

“… Make that Tenth Order. Attach a letter with an oath that house Skia won’t meddle in his affairs, so long as the people behind him don’t mess with our family. Also tell all juniors still attending the Mage Academy not to look for trouble with him.”

Marquess paused once again for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Tell them that I will publicly remove them from the family tree through an Imperial Decree. They should not act subservient, so as not to give us away, but they should not seek trouble. I think you know what I mean and what you should tell the youngsters.”

“Yes, my Lord,” the butler's answer came from the clay disc.

The Marquess placed the communication artifact back into his Ring of Holding.

Now, all I have to do is watch the show. I hope you crush them completely boy. I have high expectations of you, the Marquess didn’t say the words, but an evil grin flashed across his face.

***

Meanwhile Wolf tried going to the lectures, but was once again met with a delusional aristocrat who spewed nonsense about bloodlines and their importance.

It seems like it’s just as Wayde had said. They don’t want to teach me anything. Well, if that’s the case, I might as well go to the Mission Hall and see what I can do to earn money around here.