Irwyn was frankly not sure what to think. As far as he could remember he could always control any even remotely magical Flame. Even with mundane fire, all it took was for him to inject a bit of his magic and he could grasp them as easily as breathing.

This shocked him. Because the Flame had to be magical yet it rejected even the slightest hint of control from him. Yes, rejected because with mundane flames it was distinctly different. With non-magical fire there was simply not much he could magically control, his will passing right through without anything to latch onto. Here it was the opposite, like pitting his mind against an impenetrable wall.

He considered trying to infuse a bit of his own magic into it but quickly discarded the idea. Irwyn had no idea what it actually was and would rather not risk accidentally damaging whatever held the treasure together. Instead, Irwyn stood up - he had not ever realised that he had fallen down to his knees in his prior focus - and turned around. Old Ibis was just stepping through the door, followed by everyone else. Irwyn was not sure if it had even ever closed behind him or if everyone had just been staring at his back through a crack while he worked.

“Well, well,” Old Ibis chuckled. “It would seem like we are all going to leave quite happy today.”

“You recognise what it is,” Irwyn took a step away from the disobedient flame, glancing at the Old Fowl.

“Yes,” the man nodded. “This thing is what we would call an ‘Eternal Flame’. The exact yield will have to be tested but with the security I doubt it will be one of low quality.”

“I have never heard of such a thing,” the flame mage whose name Irwyn had - quite embarrassingly - already forgotten admitted from the side, frowning.

“It is something only produced only in the Duchy of Red, and barely ever at that,” Old Ibis nodded. “It may appear and act like a mere natural bonfire, however, it has the incredible magical property of never requiring any fuel, nor will it ever extinguish. In essence, it is a small and independent source of power never needing any maintenance.”

“How does that not violate the Law of Finity,” Irwyn frowned. He had, in fact, followed Elizabeth’s recommendation and studied up on the most widely known laws of magic. The Plannar Law of Finity was actually among the first ones he had read about, considering its massive importance it was near the front of the textbook. Irwyn remembered even the exact wording:

‘The mana required to manifest magic in an area or over a duration is increased by an amount that gradually increases in an unchanging repeating of a constant cost followed by a ninefold rise in a pattern of nine to one as the area or duration rises. This additional magical cost does not empower the spell and instead vanishes in accordance with the Original Law of Connectionless Sources.’

Or more simplistically, the cost of magic was increased by a certain amount whenever it was supposed to last or spread over any area. The simplest example was just after the duration of any spell reached one second: Increasing the duration of a spell from one second to nine seconds required exactly the same amount of magic for each additional second. However, for the tenth, the cost rose noticeably to add that additional second. Not ninefold, of course, as the book had warned was an easy misinterpretation to make. Rather, the extra cost - which as far as Irwyn grasped it was basically a multiplication of some fundamental mana constant he did not quite understand too well yet - increased by that ninefold. After ten seconds the pattern of nine to one repeated, though it did not quite align with exact seconds perfectly ever again. In actuality, the exact duration of one second was measured through the use of this law. And it worked similarly for distance, though meters did not quite align perfectly with the ratio like one second did. The law was, after all, applying even at microscopic scales. Below the notice or care of anyone but a dedicated researcher really trying to dig into fundamental truths.

“Are you aware of the so-called Everburn Isthmus, or perhaps the Melting Isthmus as some call it?” Old Ibis nodded his head, not quite explaining yet.

“I have heard that it is a wasteland at the very South of the Federation which reaches such temperatures even the species of Flame-attuned Forged which is native to it can only withstand the outer reaches,” Irwyn searched his mind for trivia. He had certainly read it mentioned several times. “It is technically part of the Duchy Federation if I remember correctly, but it is really more of an impassable Southern border.”

“Quite, quite. It is the site of perhaps the greatest act of magic this Realm has ever witnessed,” Old Ibis nodded. “All we know is that it far predates the Federation and most likely any civilization at all. The oldest records that were ever found mentioning it, from an early historian of the regime that the Federation replaced - so many centuries before the Federation itself was founded - speak of ‘ancient records that mention it already existing as a matter of no dispute’. That, as you may imagine, is an incredible time for magic of this sheer scale to remain.”

“I have heard that the Planar Laws can be bypassed with sufficient power,” Irwyn nodded back. It was not the only thing that did not quite align with this ‘finity’. Just looking Abonisle: Whatever had caused the thin boundary here seemed to be quite old and not diminishing. “Though I have not had the chance to learn the specifics,” Irwyn fished for information. The old Fowl seemed in a good mood and Elizabeth had usually appeared reluctant to speak of the paragons of magic.

“There is bypassing and then there is breaking,” Old Ibis chuckled again. “This… This is certainly the latter. Though I suppose the metal the Flame burns on is the former,” he shook his head. “A spell of such extreme power and profoundness was cast somewhere in the middle of that wasteland in the South that it still burns to this very day and will most likely never stop. No one really knows what spell it actually was as getting even close is impossible and any divination attempts shatter. However, it was so potent that not only does it break the Plannar laws for itself, it breaks those laws everywhere around it, changing them in its own image. It is a little-known fact that any magical flame ignited at even the very edge will turn half-mundane and burn forever as long as it is not brought away from the Isthmus, with several other strange properties.”

“And that plate,” Irwyn looked at the metal that the Flame was burning on. “I assume somehow makes sure that the Flame retains those eternal qualities even when away from the South.”

“Yes, Yes. That is why it is called an ‘Eternal Flame’. As long as the enchantment on the piece of metal is not damaged it will use what little power it can tap into from the Flame itself to constantly recast itself. That way it bypasses the Finity’s restriction on duration. It is an incredible crafting feat that despite the harsh difficulty of learning almost every ambitious enchanter craves to achieve within their lifetime.”

“But because of the difficulty, not to mention whatever magic it takes to actually carry over those properties that the recasting is applied to, this little Flame is quite rare,” Irwyn nodded at the explanation.

“No, not just rare,” Old Ibis shook his head. “It requires a true master of enchantment to create this. And those often find better use of their time. Perhaps a dozen or so Eternal Flames are produced in the Duchy of Red on an average year. Even when the centuries of accumulation are taken into account, there might be less than several hundred of these in the entire Duchy of Black, not to mention that most of them are already in use, perhaps even forgotten. Even with the relatively small output, having a power source this small with no need to worry about resupplying or maintenance makes it extremely desirable. It is particularly liked for being extremely non-disruptive to other enchantments.”

“Is that amount of heat really enough to power anything meaningful,” Irwyn did not really doubt what the Old Fowl was saying but rather wondered how that issue was resolved.

“The Flame is only half-mundane. It is possible to tap into some magical power from it, although with much skill and difficulty, just like the plate does. And you would be surprised how much mechanical power you can get from just this bit of heat with a touch of clever engineering.”

“Truly fascinating,” their conversation was interrupted and Irwyn remembered once again that they were not alone in the room. In fact, several people were listening silently to their discussion, including Desir, the Flame mage, and the ‘owner’ who was now speaking. None of them just quite had the courage to get in between the two Fowls talking earlier or simply did not care to do so. “May I assume you will be interested in acquiring it, Ibis.”

“Perhaps, perhaps,” the Old Fowl looked as if in thought, though revealing any amount of genuine interest would have been a rookie mistake, therefore, there was no telling if he did or did not actually want it. “I will give you a day to do your own research. We can negotiate for it tomorrow at dawn. Any interest on your side, Mockingbird?”

“I would struggle to find a use for it,” Irwyn shook his head. The only thing of interest to him would be the enchantment itself and that was above his current ability to gleam much from. “Better to spend my funds elsewhere.”

“Yes, yes, we should also discuss future cooperation,” the Ibis nodded. “If you have the time to spare, we can talk in my office.”

Irwyn glanced at Desir who gave him a stiff nod though did not speak. “It would be my pleasure,” Irwyn affirmed. Old Ibis spent a moment arranging for a triple guard duty and some other codeworded security protocols Irwyn did not understand before they headed off. The layout of the safehouse once again appeared to be quite Labyrinthine, though the Old Fowl confidently found their destination a couple of turns and a staircase further in.

The office was almost nostalgic in all honesty. It reminded Irwyn of Aaron’s desk back at Ebon Respite: Neatly sorted folders and stacks of paper were everywhere. Not just at the table but on several shelves and probably in all the closed drawers as well. It would be basically impossible for anyone except the owner to find something specific there because of just the sheer quantity, yet it gave the distinct feeling of being perfectly organized.

“Well then, now that we are out of the public eye, I certainly have to thank you for opening the lockbox,” the Ibis said as soon as they were both seated in the quite comfortable leather armchairs. “Due to some circumstances, selling it to even house Blackburg could have been particularly problematic at this time.”

“It is hardly a problem considering I profit myself,” Irwyn nodded though he was immediately suspicious. Old Ibis was basically saying that he owed Irwyn a favor. No one just gave out free favors.

“Yes, yes. That being said, what margin did you agree with young Desir on?” the man asked.

“I have agreed to a third given all the introductions involved,” Irwyn spoke the truth after taking a moment to consider whether to try and hide it.

“I see, I see,” the other man nodded. “Frankly, when Desir spoke of your ability, I had thought he had far overestimated you. Yet now I see that… well…”

“You did not quite see me coming like you usually would,” Irwyn wagered. Based on the distinct impression of the Old Ibis’ magic, Irwyn guessed that the man was most likely a Fate diviner focused on predicting people, or at least something close to that. And if Bhaak and the Fae that he had met were to be believed, Irwyn was basically the bane of any future reading. He was rather fuzzy on the actual details of why that was though, besides their jargon like ‘Scrambled Fate’.

“So, you are aware of it,” the Ibis said, his gaze sharpening slightly for a split second. Even such a minor loss of composure was no small thing though, given how much sheer experience as a socialite the man must have had.

“A certain traveling merchant has pointed it out to me,” Irwyn had said, remaining vague. If Old Ibis knew of Bhaak he was probably another ‘customer’ and understood what he meant. If the Ibis asked for a closer explanation, then he was most likely not, which was good to know in its own right. “Though I remain ignorant of the cause or any method of controlling it.”

“Ah, I must admit I am quite envious to make that man’s acquaintance at your age,” Old Ibis sighed. “Though I suppose it was inevitable considering what you are capable of while so very young. Which brings me to the real question: Why are you really in Abonisle?”

“Frankly, I mostly intend to keep my head reasonably low for a good while,” Irwyn explained. “I have been dragged into some serious trouble and need to wait for things to cool down. Possibly for years. My mentor had used a contact in Abonisle’s upper crust to get me into a good position while I hide in the sea along with all the other fishes. In the meantime, I will need to gather some resources to continue improving my magic.”

“It must be quite something that you would run all the way here,” the Old Ibis nodded. He had likely heard from Desir how far away at the very least Irwyn was coming from. “I must wonder what will happen if it follows you here.”

“I am told that my enemies will not be able to find me in Abonisle,” Irwyn tried to assuage those worries, considering they were probably even more deserved than the Fowl suspected. “At least as long as my new allies remain such. I have been very careful about not leaving any traces on the way as you might have heard. I could be quite literally anywhere in the Duchy and perhaps even beyond as far as my foes know.”

“Then I will be overjoyed to work with you,” the Ibis nodded again, the man seemed to like repetition, Irwyn supposed. Then the Fowl opened a drawer in the desk that Irwyn could not quite see, taking out a large ornate box. He opened it with a slight burst of magic, showing Irwyn quite freely that it was full of money. “Do you own a spacial bag? Your cut will not fit into a single pouch, I am afraid.”

“I do not have such a thing on me,” Irwyn said non-comitally.

“I could sell you one from your cut. I will even offer you a discount, considering that they go for quite a pretty penny,” the man smiled. Almost like he was repaying a favor with that discount. Like he particularly wanted Irwyn to take the one he was selling, and could have tampered with, in particular.

“No, thank you,” Irwyn shook his head. It was better to be cautious. For all that they had been friendly, he absolutely did not trust the Old Fowl to not try anything.

“You young people are so overly cautious these days,” the Ibis shook his head with a hint of disappointment. A far more obvious escaped emotion than his earlier slip. Almost like the Old Fowl wanted Irwyn to see it but wasn’t quite sure about how good Irwyn was at reading expressions. “Well, cannot blame an old man for trying,” he said and instead took out several normal pouches made from thick cloth. He quickly counted out a very notable amount of money, filling the pouches about equally. “Here, exactly two-ninths of what I will buy that Eternal Flame from our mutual friend for tomorrow. Of course, I hope you have the courtesy to not influence that prediction.”

“I do not believe I owe that person anything,” Irwyn shook his head. If Old Ibis was a diviner, particularly a specialist in dealing with people, he could probably predict exactly how low people were willing to go before any negotiations even started, or at least something close to it. That seemed to be an extremely useful trick when maximizing profits. Of course, that would probably fall through if someone warned the target of what was happening. Which Irwyn would not do. No reason to offend the Old Fowl over a mage he did not even know the name of and maybe a few percent increase to his cut.

“Well, I believe we are mostly done here then,” Ibis said. “Let me just confirm: I assume you only want to be contacted for particularly important and well-paying work,” he waited for Irwyn to nod. “Any expertise in creating enchantments?”

“None whatsoever, unfortunately,” Irwyn shook his head at that.

“I see, I see. Then that is all I need from you for now. I will have Desir get in contact if there is anything worthwhile. Hopefully, see you soon.”

“Yes, best of luck and goodbye,” Irwyn nodded as he stood up, picking up all the full pouches. “Though I might need a guide to leave.”

“The boy is already waiting for you just behind the door,” Old Ibis lightly chuckled. “Though he seems rather conflicted about your revelation.”

“He is?” Irwyn frowned and gave it a moment of thought. Then he realised that perhaps… It might not have been the most sensitive thing to give Desir no hint that Irwyn was, in fact, a Young Fowl. “In hindsight… I probably should have given Desir a heads up.”

“Well, that is for you to sort out,” Ibis kept smiling. “Best of luck indeed.”