“My name is Edmund Grey,” the true leader of Raging Ghosts began his story. “I came to Silverhound from Highseat some thirty years ago. I settled down in the Baskerville family’s territory, then, a couple years later, established a small dojo of my own.

“I wouldn’t call it a glorious life, but it was good enough and honest.” The man gazed into the distance, remembering the good old days. “I had some money and settled near a small village in an area which didn’t have too horrible World Energy. Whenever I met a young man with enough potential, I’d offer to teach them. Knowing how to fight and defend yourself wasn't as mandatory back then as it is now, but a lot of children and youths showed interest in learning that which I taught.

“Three years after I’d established my school, Count Baskerville came to pay me a visit. The man was old, but seemed like a decent person, as did his son, who accompanied his father. My students and I maintained order, driving away bandits from the surroundings of Deertrail, on the outskirts of which I’d set up my dojo and home, so the old Count came to offer me a Knighthood.

“I politely refused, but assured him we would maintain proper order around our dojo. The man didn’t seem satisfied, but he didn’t want to press the subject. My guess is that having someone maintain road security in a part of his territory without asking for anything in return was useful. On the other hand, having an armed group of well-trained men living within his borders must have been unnerving at the same time.” Edmund paused and frowned a bit when he said this.

“Folks from the provinces don’t have many Sword-Sage organizations. They don’t know that other than cleaning around our house, we don’t get involved with the matters of the world. It is a rule strictly imposed by the most powerful clans from Highseat to prevent fracturing of the empire and turmoil. Personally, I agreed with the rule, but now I believe it needs amending,” the Sword-Sage continued with a grave tone, before moving back to his story.

“After the lord and lordling’s visit, life continued normally. Two years later the old man died, his son succeeded him, and yet everything remained the same. Then this muddled age of violence abruptly started. The actions of Molot, the leader of the Black Sword mercenary company who tried to stage a coup in Fairweather duchy, had caused great ripples.

“I can imagine all the noble families panicking as they finally realized their positions were no longer unshakeable. And this fear had Varthon Baskerville pay me a visit once more. As soon as the man came over, I could see him darting his gaze this way and that, looking for danger in every shadow. You know, the look of fear of a man who had realized that the unshakeable pillar he could lean on was actually an illusion,” Edmund said, and Wolf had no idea what the man was talking about, but continued to listen quietly.

“Varthon offered me and my disciples a place in his army, and again, just like the last time, I refused. Sword-Sages shouldn’t meddle with things like battles of armies. We would kill and cripple too many and soon the other side would reach out to a Sword-Sage of their own, which would only lead to further tragedy,” the man paused.

“I told him that, but Varthon didn’t listen. He just made an ugly face and left. I thought I might have offended him, and I didn’t care. I was naive in my way of thinking, and I underestimate the bastard. Five weeks later, two thousand armed men attacked my dojo. It was the dead of night, and almost everyone was sleeping when the assault came.

“My dojo wasn’t that big, nor did it have any truly talented disciples. Even I’m mediocre and only got as far as I did because I was born into a wealthy family in Highseat,” Edmund explained with a hint of self derision.

“But that’s not important now. There were two hundred youths and men associated with the dojo. Most of them were hopefuls, with only thirty-one being real disciples. Luckily, most of the hopefuls lived in the village, as did five of my disciples. When the soldiers attacked, it was a sure death trap, but I managed to fight my way out of the encirclement, as did Jade here,” Edmund pointed towards a youth missing an eye.

“The rest died as we tried to punch through the encirclement and escape. You might think me a coward, but this was the only way. Otherwise, Jade and I would’ve died as well,” Edmund said, but he didn’t appear like he was trying to make up an excuse, nor was he justifying his choice. Rather, his statement was a pragmatic explanation.

“After two weeks of being hounded like wild beasts, we finally escaped pursuit. Then, two months later, we returned to Deertrail.

“Luckily, the soldiers didn’t touch the village nearly the size of a town. Since nobody knew what took place in the dark of the night, the authorities pinned the crime on bandits.

“When the two of us returned and told everyone what had happened, my disciples were outraged, and they joined us on our quest for revenge. As did Michael, Nared, Paul, Jake and Lazz. Their sons and brothers had died in the attack, and they didn’t want to suffer the indignation. So we agreed to go to Baskerville City and assassinate that bastard.”

“However, by the time we’d arrived, the rat had already fled,” Edmund grit his teeth. “Fearing for his safety, he had escaped into the duchy capital, where we couldn’t touch him.

“For a while we didn’t know what to do, but then Paul came up with an idea,” the Sword-Sage continued after taking a moment to calm down. “Since we couldn’t step on the viper’s head, we should pin its tail and let it starve to death. We chose the town of New Yew as our base, since it was the quickest way from Baskerville City to Silver City, and we started raiding Baskerville’s soldiers, caravans and taxmen.

“While here, we also cleaned up the bandit groups in the area and helped people as much as we could. We killed those who resisted, but let other people leave.” Edmund stopped talking for a long moment, expecting Wolf to say something, but the youth remained silent.

“That’s our story,” the man concluded.

Wolf listened without interruptions. He was fairly certain that this Sword-Sage didn’t lie, and he had a very favorable impression of the man.

“You are very patient people,” Wolf offered hesitantly after thinking for a moment. He’d said something similar to Wayde once before. As far as Wolf was concerned, you ought to settle your grudges as soon as possible.

“No need to mock us. That bastard is hiding in the Silver City’s Nobles’ District, in a mansion secured by Spell Formations and gods know how many guards,” Edmund said, unfazed by what he took for Wolf’s mocking.

“Now, I’ve told you about us. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask some questions about why you came here and what you plan to do,” the Sword-Sage steered the topic in the right direction.

Wolf nodded. “Sure.”

“You’re likely a Mage Academy student. Right?” Edmund asked.

Wolf nodded once more.

“I guessed so. There was already one man from your academy who came after us last summer. We killed him, so why did the Mage Academy send a child this time?” Edmund seemed perplexed by this development.

“Mage Academy doesn’t send anyone anywhere. There’s a Mission Hall where you pick your own missions. The clerk told me they upgraded this mission from a three star one to a four star one. Meaning it was originally for Third Order Mages and now it’s for Fourth Order Mages. She told me it’s because the student who went after you never returned.” Just like his father, Wolf tended to explain things nobody asked about.

“Your identity is unknown,” he continued, “and everyone takes you for a group of slightly above average bandits. I believe that if they had known how strong you really are, they would at least make this a five star mission, but even then it would be too dangerous. So, maybe a six star one?”

“You think a Fifth Order Mage can hunt down a Sixth Order Sword-Sage?” Edmund asked, appearing offended by Wolf’s words.

The argument on whether Mages or Sword-Sages were stronger had been going on ever since the two professions had first appeared and predated history. As a general rule of thumb, a Mage needed to be one Order above the Sword-Sage for it to be an even fight. Wolf saying a Mage of a Fifth Order could kill Edmund was technically looking down on the man.

Wolf felt like he’d walked into a trap, needlessly touching upon a sensitive topic.

“Hmmm… That depends on how skilled and cautious the Mage is,” Wolf answered seriously, trying to straighten out his mistake. “But it also depends on how sharp your senses are and how careless you are—”

“Brat—” a man who had no beard and appeared to be the youngest one in the gang shouted.

“Tommy, shut up,” Edmund hissed sternly. The boy wasn't one whit worried after hearing his Sword-Sage Order. In fact, he seemed excited. If this Wolf was a Fourth Order Mage, that meant he wasn’t an idiot. So where did his confidence come from?

When Tommy shouted, Wolf didn’t give a damn. But when he’d heard the name, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the man, subconsciously furrowing his brow. He really hated that name.

Wolf originally wanted to say more, but Tommy ruined his mood. Edmund noticed the youth’s displeasure and hurriedly changed the subject.

“Could you tell us why you’re here, Lord Mage?” For the first time, the Sword-Sage addressed Wolf in an official and respectful manner.

“My mission is to eliminate the bandit group terrorizing this area, but I believe I can do that in more ways than one,” Wolf explained. “I planned to see what you’re like, why you’re doing what you’re doing and then either take you in as subordinates, or exterminate you. Currently, I’m leaning towards the first option, but you naturally retain the right to refuse. We can be friends or we can fight.”

Wolf finished with a relaxed and sincere smile. Edmund found that smile more threatening than any open threats.

What gives him such confidence? the Sword-Sage wondered. He completely squished the grass he stepped on. He’s as heavy as an adult Body Refiner. Could he be some old monster that somehow rejuvenated himself? But why would he be interested in us?

While these thoughts flashed through Edmund’s mind, his followers had thoughts of their own and they openly expressed them.

“Fucker who do—” Nared shouted and Tommy was about to join in on the cursing.

Edmund’s eyes went wide when he’d heard his deceased disciple’s older brother start shouting. He was still sorting out his thoughts and gut feelings, and he believed aggravating this person in front of them was extremely stupid, bordering on suicidal.

“Shut up!” the leader of the group shouted. “Only I talk from now on. Are we clear?”

The rest of the Raging Ghosts nodded, but didn’t say a word.

Wolf, however, didn’t care about the shouts of a random nobody. He was cursed at plenty of times during his beggar years.

“Lord Mage, what is your Order?” Edmund finally asked directly.

“First Order True-Namer,” Wolf said flatly. “If you want me to be precise, I’m a Fourteenth Order Mage.”

Edmund licked his lip and felt a shiver run down his spine. A True-Namer would definitely be relaxed around people like them, if they ever spared them a glance. The first thought which went through his mind was that Wolf was lying, or crazy, but his gut told him this person was perfectly sane and extremely terrifying.

The Sword-Sage gulped and took a deep breath, while the rest of his band wanted to shout and curse, but didn’t dare disobey their leader.

“Lord True-Namer, how old are you?” he asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“I’ll be thirteen in a couple of months,” Wolf said, setting off another explosion inside Edmund’s mind.

The Sword-Sage silently gazed at Wolf for a couple of moments.

“My Lord, can you prove your claim?” the man asked, immediately regretting the directness of his question.