Irwyn double-checked everything for the last time as he approached the intersection. It was late afternoon, nearing the evening, when Irwyn finally saw the gravel path connect to a proper road in the distance. He had been walking all damn day, as he had been several days in a row, so his feet hurt; though not as much as by the end of the first day of his journey.

Decoy pouch, check, Irwyn went through the lot of things he meant to do before entering the city. He had had a while to plan his entry properly as well as other things. Having a bait money pouch was one of them, tied to his belt while the real one was safely tucked in an inner pocket of his shirt. The mask was at the top of his backpack, not visible but Irwyn had trained a bit to take it out without having to remove the whole baggage from his back.

Drathsol did not have a wall. In fact, none of the cities in the region around City Black had any real fortification. Irwyn had once read it was intentional: So that if was ever an invading force they would not have a solid staging ground against the capital. Drathsol itself was significantly further away from City Black than Ebon Respite which, as Old Crow had warned Irwyn, meant that there would very likely be multiple casters in the city. In fact, the man Irwyn was supposed to meet with was a Fowl caster staying long term. But that was a concern for later, first Irwyn had to enter.

He had expected a checkpoint of some kind, if only to check incoming goods, Drathsol was a major city on a trade route from City Black after all, however, there was nothing of the sort. Maybe the guards didn't maintain it in the evenings or there was a different system in use. Not that Irwyn would complain about an easy entrance.

The next step was finding the Guild. Old Crow had given him a name, or rather a title, of the Fowl that he trusted enough to look after whatever instruction he would send Irwyn. Now all Irwyn had to do was find the man. Or woman. Or whatever. Turns out that titles based on birds tend to be mostly gender neutral. What mattered was that they 'could be found at the Guild'.

Irwyn had multiple plans to figure out where it actually was. Drathsol would be different from Ebon respite but not unrecognizably so. Irwyn had been working with and around criminals basically as long as he could remember and obviously noticed some patterns. At first, Irwyn walked among the crowds, just like any other visitor, until he spotted some decrepit-looking buildings in the distance. Separating from the crowds was not hard, it was almost dusk at this point but the streets near the city entrance were still very busy, likely from travelers who had pushed to not have to camp outside. Irwyn wasn’t sure how far away the nearest settlement was that way.

Soon enough he managed to find a small alley leading to a dead end between 2 buildings. There he took the opportunity to put on the mockingbird mask. He also realized it played into his hand in other ways than just hiding his identity. Because he was no longer just Irwyn, a thief. He was a real Young Fowl of the guild and had to act the part. The thing was, even though Irwyn was confident in his bluffing, he didn’t exactly have an intimidating build and great displays of magic to awe anyone from the underworld were better avoided while who knows how many people wanted to capture him. Yet a mask played into his newfound persona. When he was younger he sure as hell would have been many times warier and respectful of anyone wearing a full-face bird mask claiming to be a Fowl compared to, say, an average-built teenager.

He returned to the street, still clearly a proper middle-class district, and headed further towards the clearly unkept structures. It took him just minutes to reach areas where there was far less foot traffic. The buildings looked progressively worse for wear and so did the people. It wasn’t quite as bad as the slums in Ebon Respite but Irwyn could feel the difference in the progressively warier eyes around him. It almost felt like home.

His decoy pouch was clearly visible as he kept an eye out for potential pickpockets. If one went for it he would be ready to grab them. He was especially looking out for the kids as those tended to be the most likely of that profession from his experience. Unfortunately, no one seemed to have fallen for it as Irwyn found an opportunity for his plan B.

He slowly and carefully erected a thin barrier of light around himself. It was barely a thin film that Irwyn had worked hard on during the last few days of travel. Now that Irwyn was on his own he had no one watching his back for potential club or stone in the dark. He needed to be able to protect himself from things he didn’t see or couldn’t quite dodge. At the same time he couldn’t exactly walk surrounded by a mesh of solid flames or he would be caught in a week. So he had figured out his current defense. A hair-thin sphere of transparent light. Well, mostly transparent as well as almost completely dim. The shine was so tuned down it was difficult to spot near basically any other light source, including the stars on a cloudy night. The same went for transparency: Irwyn could barely notice there was something as he tested it and he knew to actively look for it. Out of everyone he knew probably only Kalista would be able to notice without being told.

All that, naturally, came at the cost of integrity. Perhaps in the future he could make invisible walls as solid as steel, now, however, the barrier tended to crumble and shatter if he walked into a tree too fast. That was fine though. It would deflect a strike or a projectile that Irwyn didn’t see coming. And that would give Irwyn all the warning he needed to stop screwing around and fight without restraint.

Satisfied, Irwyn approached a dark alley. He noticed the lookout easy enough, a man pretending to be loitering at the other side of the street. It was almost amateurish, the man didn’t even have a second person to pretend to have a conversation with. Irwyn walked to the crossroads between the alley and the street, waited for the lookout to look at him, made 3 solids seconds of eye contact obvious even through the mask and then stepped into the obvious ambush.

Irwyn had to suppress his old instincts telling him he was in danger because rationally he was not really. Whoever had set this up were clearly no veteran gangsters because there was not a trace of magic. Irwyn had never personally participated in stuff like this but he knew how they worked. A big time group wouldn’t have set up this far away from the main street, rather choosing to get in a single good ambush in the wealthier neighborhoods and then running for it before any guards could react. And they would bring along magical items as a contingency, just in case things went really bad.

No, he was walking into a bunch of bottom feeders he could most likely bluff into doing what he wanted. Well, not technically bluff since he was actually a Fowl caster with business at the Guild but he hoped he could convince them without having to blatantly reveal his ability to wield magic. And if things turned sour, well, his fight with the undead had clearly shown Irwyn what level of threat mundane gangsters would pose if he let go of all restraint.

“Now then, come on out if you would,” he announced after taking a dozen steps into the alley. He could see a few obvious hiding spots so he made sure to be directly staring at one of them as the would be ambusher walked out of it. Irwyn tried to make deliberate eye contact with the surprised and rough-looking man and then spun on his heel in one smooth motion, putting on a show as he observed the situation without being obvious about it. 6 people in total, including the two who followed him from the main street. He made sure to end up facing them.

“I need someone to guide me to the Guild,” Irwyn interrupted the lookout. He had waited for the man to breathe in when he was about to say something. Old Crow had always insisted that most verbal battles were about putting the other side off balance. Break expectations, don’t show weakness. And if that didn’t work you probably messed up or were dealing with someone too competent. “I have business with the Old Owl,” Irwyn dropped the name casually. He stood straight, making sure to sound confident and it came to him naturally. This was no different than manipulating guards or merchants. Maybe even easier because he likely understood these people better. And they respected the Fowls.

“And who are you?” the man said, uncertain. He looked at the mask and couldn’t see through. Irwyn may not sound old but he though he hardly sounded like an obvious teen. With his features hidden he could most likely pass for someone middle-aged, especially if he played into it.

“You may call me the Mockingbird,” Irwyn said, still staring the man down. His ‘strange’ speech that his fellow had mocked him also supported him. No one except him would speak like that in the slums. No one except maybe the people high up. What did a poor street rat know about eccentric Fowls, after all? The big backpack was definitely a negative though.

“A Fowl?” someone behind him whispered. A girl, very young. Not that it mattered.

“I have never heard of you,” the person standing next to the lookout said, somewhat doubtful but uncertain.

“I am just passing through,” Irwyn lightly shrugged still staring down the silent lookout. “I figured that it would be rather rude to not greet the locals,” his statement was followed by a short silence.

“What do we do boss?” a different voice behind him asked. Irwyn did not speak again. It could make him sound like he was in a hurry or afraid.

“I reckon it ain’t worth the trouble to mess with the fella,” the lookout finally spoke, clearly sweating from the constant stare from Irwyn, turning to the man next to them.

“Fine,” the other man agreed after a moment. “Stink, bring the Fowl to the Guild, then come right back,” Irwyn did not turn around to look. He just nodded his head slightly and set off to leave the alley.

“Just a piece of advice,” Irwyn said as he was close to passing the leader. “Have a second person talk with the lookout. Your current setup is just blatantly obvious,” he said and then walked by. If he were a nobody the man probably would have lashed out at the criticism but Fowls did carry a real level of respect and that tended to unstuck even the most stubborn idiots. Irwyn also figured that if the man was thinking about anything else it was much less likely he would try something stupid at the last second.

Irwyn only looked back when he left the alley. The men were resetting the ambush, exchanging some words. He was followed by the girl, probably no older than 8. She wore rags and looked underfed, not exactly an ambush material. Probably someone’s relative, maybe a daughter, with no one else to look after her.

Still better than starving on the street as an Orphan in Irwyn’s opinion.

“Lead the way,” he simply said. The girl nodded, clearly a fair bit out of her comfort zone and went down the street. Now that he had a guide, Irwyn tried to figure out other stuff about Drathsol. For one, he noticed that people did not seem to wear any obvious signs of affiliation to a particular gang. That either meant that there was a different system in place or that he was in a neutral territory of some sort. Maybe there just were not enough gangs to warrant a deep-ish system like Ebon Respite had.

He also had not yet felt any other casters despite the significantly greater density of minor magical items. It was a bit puzzling though not alarming. Drathsol was supposed to have a lot more casters than Ebon Respite, but even 50 times almost nothing wasn’t necessarily noticeable.

“There,” the girl eventually pointed down a seemingly abandoned alley deeper into the poor part of the city. “The Doormen don’t wanna no one around for no reason.” she excused herself and turned to leave.

“For your trouble,” Irwyn took one of the few coins out his decoy purse and put it on her shoulder, trying to not be obvious to anyone looking. “Remember to hide it on your way back,” he did not want the girl to be robbed after all. She nodded him a thanks and left. The corridor she had pointed him towards was dark and not unusual as Irwyn entered, already holding the little Fowl sigil hidden in his hand. A silver foot styled after a bird’s claws.

“State your business,” a gruff voice spoke from the side. Irwyn slowly turned and there, in a small creek Irwyn had assumed was just a dent in a wall, two men stood. They both wore identical masks, simple and grey, covering the whole face.

“Old Owl should be expecting me,” Irwyn revealed the Silver fowl foot to them and stood confidentially. And it should be the truth. The only point of failure was the expected letter never arriving in Drathsol or then in the other Fowl's hands.

The masked ‘doormen’ as the girl had called them shared a glance, one of them nodded, turned around and entered a hallway Irwyn could not quite see too well without questioning him further. The other one moved out of the way and Irwyn followed. He got to find out that the Guild of Drathsol was actually more of a complex labyrinth of sprawling tunnels. He was pretty sure he had heard the sewer water running above or beside them a dozen times during the trip. The walkways were also very tight, at most places the taller ‘doorman’ had to walk with a slightly bent back. Halfway through their 10-ish minute walk, Irwyn lost track of how to get back or roughly where he was. The place just had far too many intersections. His guide through never hesitated.

Irwyn knew the right door before the ‘doorman’ even nodded towards it. Because it was the only one enchanted they had come across. He could feel the magic, isolating what lay behind. That being said, the enchantment was far from the best and the walls didn’t have a spec of magic. Because of that, Irwyn had no problem feeling the caster in the room as he approached, though whoever it was, his magic did not give off an immediate impression, dormant.

Irwyn’s guide left and Irwyn approached the door. He felt himself trip some kind of very small spell, one he had not even noticed when distracted by the door, and the man within the room immediately rose and approached the room entrance from the other side.

They arrived around the same time and Irwyn made the snap decision to not knock as a pulse of the same subtle magic passed over him. The door did, after all, seemingly isolate the room for the most part. The knock would not be heard in that case. And just as Irwyn had half-expected, the door then opened, just as he would otherwise be about to knock. It would have caught him with a raised hand if the detection magic of some kind had not made him warry.

Though, in all fairness, Irwyn liked the trick. He could see himself doing it when he figured out detection magic of some sort.

“Come on in,” to his credit, Old Owl, though the man seemed more middle-aged than elderly, did not even raise an eyebrow and turned around, walking back to his desk. That much should be expected of Fowls after all. Irwyn could hardly be the first person to ever see through his trick. “So, you are the Young Mockingbird,” the man said as he took his seat and Irwyn immediately felt a burst of magic form slightly to the right. Just barely out of his line of sight. His neck moved almost instinctively, allowing his eyes to see only empty space. What they did see, however, was a wide grin and intent stare.

“Well, with that sensitivity to magic you deserve the title even if you could only barely cast,” the man said. “Though I assume that is not a singular talent.”

“I would rather not comment,” Irwyn said, the mask still on his face. He had, after some deliberation, decided to not remove it. He was offered a seat opposite to Old Owl and took it.

“We should do some work together when whatever trouble you got into blows over,” Old Owl didn’t seem to take any offense. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Old Crow’s eye is as sharp as ever. Here,” he then handed Irwyn two sheets of folded paper, not even bothering to return them to their original packaging.

A letter and what appeared to be a map full of notes. Irwyn quickly read.

M,

I have reached out to a contact which is deeply opposed to the group that has caused you trouble. They have agreed to assist you, at least in some form. I have attached a coded map that will inform you which places you should avoid as well as the city where you will meet my contact. They will find you after arrival. O, who I assume had given you the letter, can arrange for you to travel along a merchant caravan of some kind, though, I recommend transitioning to a different trade group in every major settlement.

You should also know that your hidden friend has decided to follow in your footsteps and leave the city in pursuit of Fowlship. Your wise friend is likely to do the same once the situation stabilizes.

Best regards,

C

Irwyn put the letter down and digested it. Obviously, Old Crow was trying to be as obtrusive as possible. How many people did a letter pass through when sent through the Guild’s channels? How many of them would risk finding someone to secretly unseal it for them just in case the information was valuable? Old Owl had not even bothered pretending that he had not read it. All the secrecy wouldn’t give Irwyn a pause.

What did were the two people who were apparently leaving Ebon Respite. ‘Your hidden friend’ was obviously Waylan’s semi-secret moniker. Every adult had one, Irwyn’s had been ‘Your bookish friend’. In hindsight, Irwyn probably could have guessed Waylan would refuse to be left in the dust by him, even if that meant separating from his sister. His best friend did have an exceptional talent for going unseen and unheard so Irwyn had little doubt Waylan could make a Fowl if he improved a bit more and then managed a remarkable feat or two.

What did startle Irwyn was the other name. Because ‘your wise friend’ referred to the Old Crow himself. Is he actually leaving Ebon Respite? Irwyn wondered but there was not much reason to lie, besides betting that someone who snuck a peek at the letter could decipher that information and do something specific with it. Which was unlikely. Thinking back, Irwyn had heard from some of the older adults that Old Crow didn’t use to always stay with the Tears. He used to only drop by occasionally when he was traveling through Ebon Respite. It was around the time that Irwyn was taken in a decade ago, around 6 years old then, that the Old Crow settled in with them and also upscaled the whole semi-charitable operation. Everyone just assumed that the elder probably chose to retire, which would make this his comeback to the underworld. How old even is he?

“You can set out first thing in the morning,” Old Owl interrupted his thoughts. “I can arrange the first merchant group on credit, if you know where you are even going by then. You can pay me back when you make it big.”

“Thank you,” Irwyn nodded. Saving some of his significant but limited funds would not go amiss. “Though I admit that I am a bit wary of being seen by anyone.”

“Well, no one seems to be looking for you around these parts,” the older Fowl shrugged. “At least not yet. I don’t know what wasp nest you stirred but I would have heard about a manhunt on a scale that warrants that paranoia. And there would have been sketches everywhere. My advice is that whoever you travel with is much more likely to remember someone wearing a mask than a stranger’s face.”

“You have a point,” Irwyn nodded but kept it on for now. He had no doubt that whoever he ended up traveling with would report his description to the Old Owl one way or another, however, that was different than seeing him firsthand. And Irwyn had unfortunately been tangled up on the opposing side of House Blackburg, he was not going to risk that they might eventually post a bounty that would give even Fowls a pause. Perhaps insisting on the mask might do nothing in that case... Either way, it at least made him feel better about the whole pursuit thing. “Is there anywhere I can stay the night?”

“Down the hallway, take the first right, then the second door you see,” Old Owl nodded. “Come see me when you wake up and I can get you on your way.”

“Thank you, I will do that. Good night,” Irwyn stood up and left. He probably could have left a better first impression but he was still a bit rattled with leaving home, the fae, the teleporting merchant as well as not being that great of a negotiator. He was taught and knew some tricks but simple manipulation would have probably been an insult when employed against anyone who had made a full Old Fowl.

He found the room and locked himself in, a chamber that barely fit a bed and a small night table. There were no enchantments inside as far as he could see. A candle had not been provided so instead Irwyn summoned a bit of light and began to decipher the map. It was, as always with Old Crow, annoyingly complex. At least he was long used to not being able to take any notes. It took him a good half-hour before he had figured out which places were marked as which. Apparently, the whole West was a deathtrap for him, with almost no city big or small marked anything less than dangerous. South was not that much better. To the North and East there were a few clusters of problematic areas but it was far better. The safest areas seemed to concentrate to the North-East of City Black, though the Northern Pass that served as a border, as well as the shoreline cities, were marked as dangerous. Irwyn supposed they would be obvious targets for scrutiny. And of course, there was the meeting place, in the middle of a big area deemed as 'safe-ish' by Old Crow. Because nowhere was truly safe for him for the moment.

Irwyn lay down, the mask surprisingly comfortable even for sleeping, and thought about the place. Because it sounded very familiar. The city of Abonisle. Or as one book had called it, the Veil Watcher.