The extra carriage provided some much needed leg room for the scholarship students, letting them chat it up away from the ears of the recruiter. They were mostly discussing magic, asking Paxton and Goddard about it since the brothers were the most cultured. The brothers gave as rudimentry an explanation as they could get away with.

"You see," Goddard began to explain, "magic is all around us. It's in everything, something that we can't see because it is also a part of us. It gives us power if we can control it, but it takes training to control it."

"I heard that magic causes heart problems later in life," Barrot speculated.

"That's as a side-effect of overusing magic," Goddard explained. "If someone uses too much magic too often, it makes the heart beat too hard for too long. It would be similar to running for three days. As long as you use magic within it's limits, you'll live several lifetimes."

"What about dangerous magics like necromancey?" Samson questioned.

"Necromancey and white magics are the only exception to the dangers," Goddard said. "Well, necromancey not so much, but white magic is certainly exempt. If a necromancer overuses his magic, his power will increase drastically as an exchange for his life. However, once the dead necromancer's magic runs out, so does their body. As for white mages, they can just heal."

"Can I have a popsicle?" Mini asked, pointing at Liz who was sitting next to an insulated crate. The silent woman opened the crate, took out two popsicles, gave one to Mini, then stuck the other one into her own mouth.

"By the way," Barrot spoke up, "aren't we getting close to the ocean? Are we going to stop at any harbor towns?"

"Our last stop should be a harbor town," Goddard answered. "Why so interested?"

"I've never cooked with fish before," Barrot said excitedly. "I want to learn how to prepare one!"

"Hey, maybe we could set up a stall to sell some of Barrot's cooking!" Paxton suggested.

"No, we don't have the permit for that," Barrot grumbled. "I've tried it before."

They continued to brainstorm until the carriages arrived at the coastal harbor town. They had to enter through two enormous doors that were a part of a high wall which guarded the town. The town was a bustling center of trade and commerce, with cargo moving in all directions.

Seeing this much activity was amazing for the small-town children, and it was especially interesting for Paxton. He had been in massive shipyards before, but this old-fashioned, rope-and-pulley system was a sight to behold. Goddard had seen plenty of ships being used during the war, so he wasn't as enthused as everyone else.

When the carriages stopped, the children were warned to stay together. Goddard got close to Paxton and whispered, "Ready for another member?"

"Where is this one?" Paxton questioned.

"Right now, I can only assume that she's in prison," Goddard thought out loud.

"The crime?" Paxton had to ask.

"She's a thief, and a good one," Goddard explained as the brothers walked calmly away from the group. "She arrived here as a little girl, but her parents lost her in the harbor. She stole to survive, but now she steals for a gang."

"How are we planning on doing this? Should we pay her debts, make her choose to come with us, maybe offer her to steal from Wizeman?"

"Let me handle this one," Goddard said with an odd grin. He seemed to be enjoying this, as if he had a fun plan.

"You're the boss," Paxton stepped down, assuming he could enjoy the view.

The two brothers turned into an alley, then navigated the complex back alley's of the harbor town, arriving at a near-abandoned warehouse with some rusted cargo carriers. Two homeless guys dressed in rags were sitting in front of the building, taking notice when Paxton and Goddard arrived. Goddard led with a confident stride, walking directly towards the large, wooden warehouse entrance.

"What are you kids doing here?" one of the homeless questioned.

"We're here to bring in Peter Potter," Goddard said, examining the run down doors in front of him.

"Peter Potter?" scoffed the homeless. "You kids are out of your league. Why don't you go home to mommy while you still have tongues?"

Goddard answered by drawing back his arms, then pushing the doors with boosted strength. The gates to the warehouse broke free from their hinges and rocketed into the warehouse itself. The force of the blow had kicked up dust that sorrounded the two brothers as they stood at the entrance like warriors.

"Why don't you go back to the gutter you crawled from," Paxton retorted at the terrified homeless. The two guys scrambled away, their minds shattered as the young brothers entered unchallenged.

The sound of coughing and swearing reached their ears, so the brothers stopped to let the dust settle.

Inside of the warehouse was a gaggle of lounging thugs and mercenaries in various stages of armor. They looked at the fine clothes on Paxton and Goddard, immediately assuming their status as well as their hostage value. None of the tough guys were willing to move, trying to mentally connect these two kids to the enormous doors that had been blasted into the building.

"I'm here for Peter Potter," Goddard announced, "the first person to take me to him is the last one to get hurt."

Paxton watched in silence, letting Goddard take the stage. The thugs were all confused, but one of them had the gall to speak.

"What do you want with him?" came a voice from the group.

"I plan on taking him in," Paxton declared.

"You?! YOU'RE A FUCKING TODDLER!"

"And I'm still twice the man you are," Goddard responded with an overconfident smirk. One of the thugs stood up with an angry expression, glaring daggers at his offender. He walked towards Goddard until he was inches away. The size difference was obvious, the boy was barely half this guy's size and a third of his weight.

"Wanna say that again?" the thug challenged.

"No," Goddard stated, then the boy quickly punched the thug in the stomach.

The hit was aimed directly at the man's diaphragm, causing the guy to heave the air in his lungs. Goddard held his fist there, forcing the poor guy to suffocate by stopping his breathing. It took a moment for Goddard to pull his fist out, stepping to the side as the thug collapsed onto the floor.

The guys that saw this suddenly took Goddard seriously. One at a time, they stood up and grabbed whatever was most convenient to use as a weapon. They approached Goddard slowly, but the young boy just smiled widely.

"Time to see what I'm really made of," Goddard boasted, cracking his knuckles for effect.

"Good luck," Paxton cheered sarcastically.

Instead of letting them come to him, Goddard leaped at them, crossing a distance of twelve feet on a single jump. He landed just out of reach, then curled a kick into the first guy's gut.

Removing his foot, Goddard leaped baletically off his toes, almost floating towards another nearby thug who recieved a round kick to the temple.

This engaged 'fight mode' in the rest of the lounging toughs, so they got up and pushed past each other to get at the abnoxious brat. Goddard engaged his warrior magic, creating a shield around himself and tripling his strength.

When the guys tried to take him on, Goddard's martial blows sent them reeling back. When the guys tried to throw things, Goddard's advanced senses let him catch and return the debris. When the guys tried to dogpile him, Goddard lifted the group and tossed them like ragdolls.

Paxton watched, interested in how slow Goddard was taking this. The warrior he knew could have cracked a few heads and finished the fight in under a minute. At least he could have garnered some tactics and narrowed the fight with the terrain or something.

But Goddard was wading into the fray like a berserker, getting hit and hitting back without much hesitation. It was like watching a bunch of children trying to fight an adult, except the scenario was flipped for age.

Thugs went flying, tough guys went down in a few punchs, and every blow that Goddard took was returned tenfold at the same time. It was just dirty fighting by someone who knew that they couldn't be beaten.

The fight ended in total domination. Goddard had fought elite warriors, deadly monsters, and demon lords. A band of misfits barely tapped into his full repertoire of techniques. He didn't kill anyone, but that was hardly a handicap. The entire group of twenty-seven lay unconscious all around the warehouse, not even a twitch could be seen.

A sudden, sarcastic clap from behind caused Goddard to turn back to the broken entrance. Standing underneath the main arch was a man wearing a tacky suit with a cigar in his mouth. A few teeth were missing and there was a scar over his left eye, but he had a certain scumbag quality that could only be put down to intuition.

"That was quite a spectacle," said the new intruder with true admiration. "I can't tell if my men are incompetent, or you're just that good."

From behind the new guy, Goddard could see one of the homeless guys that had been sitting in front of the warehouse. They were lookouts in case somebody decided to attack while Peter was away.

"Peter Potter, I presume?" Goddard alliterated.

"One and the same," Peter bowed slightly, "but who are you?"

"I'm a friend of Christina's," Goddard explained with a hidden edge to his voice. "I've come to take her away."

"Oh, you and what army?"

"I don't need an army to put down a dog," Goddard said in complete control.

"Watch your mouth, boy," Peter warned, "your screams won't reach the bazaar. Besides, the bitch is sleeping off a good beating in a prison cell. I'd suggest you start being more respectful, or you're not going to have it as easy as her."

"Y'know, she told me what you did to her," Goddard said, his tone losing all solid sense. "The beatings, the rape, the times you let your dogs chew on her for a few minutes. I've heard horror stories that I couldn't accept as reality, until I saw for myself.

"Five years from now, Christina and I come back from Wizeman to pay her debts to you. Christina drugs me so I don't get involved, then tries to make the deal herself. When I wake up, I run to find that she's being violated in every way. And thanks to that particular instance, I finally did something that I'd refused to do for a long time.

"I killed all of your men that night, but I spent a lot of time giving you a special makeover. I had Christina kick you in the balls until you bled, then we spent some time doing to YOU what YOU did to HER. I'm going to have to apologize to her later, because she's going to miss out on all the fun."

"You're fucking crazy, little boy," Peter Potter chuckled to himself. "How about-"

Peter suddenly felt a powerful force push through his stomach, forcing air, bile, and excrement from his body. When the liquids stopped flowing out, Peter looked down to see that Goddard's arm was most of the way through his stomach.

The skin hadn't broken, but that didn't stop the innards from taking the brunt of the force.

"You don't get to talk," Goddard spat as Peter collapsed onto his ass, horror in the scumbag's eyes. "You only get to scream."