It had been two weeks since the attack on Cylas.

Greto Veil, the border region between the country of Halth and Legoria in the south, there is a town named Delby. It is a small and unassuming town, a common travel stop for merchants and farmers or the occasional explorer or traveler corp. By all accounts it was as peaceful as a town could be.

Peaceful, but not totally quiet.

One of the town's few amenities not related to food or bed was the small bar tucked away in an alley around the corner near the general store. To any random passerby it would appear that no such bar exists, but the homeless man that sits outside the door will rave at any they see until given a codeword, then the door will crack an inch and allow the intended traveler inside.

The bar leads further down into the ground, making use of an old sewage tunnel built back in the days of the third Magi-Medean war. Having been many things in the intervening years. A warm and dry place for the homeless to squat, a shelter for Medean fugitives, and most recently the little crack in the wall of a bar that it now was.

This is where the noise in the otherwise quiet town could be found. For it was a bar as much it was a meeting place for all manner of vagabond and outlaw. The only rule being that blood may not touch the furniture. On this particular night the bar was quiet, its patrons blurry and full of cheap booze. All else simply taking shelter from the pounding rain that flooded the streets above.

In one corner, sitting alone, was a hooded figure. He had come in early that morning and sat waiting since. He never ordered anything, and the man in charge of the bar never approached him. Every once and a while a barmaid would walk through the bar and help those who fell since she last came through, but she came and went never looking in this figure’s direction.

Finally, after nearly half a day, the first motion from this figure was for their hand to reach forward and tap the table twice. The maid came to him at once and asked what he wanted.

“Water.” The figure said. She looked back to the man at the bar and all he could do was shrug. The water he requested was brought to him in short order. A tall glass and a pitcher together.

The figure took a single sip and placed the glass back on the table. Then he sat quietly until the barmaid left.

A few minutes passed and another entered the bar, dressed similarly to the hooded figure. He looked around the bar for a moment then locked eyes with the figure sitting in the booth. They sat down opposite the figure and remained silent until visited by the barmaid. To which they only requested another glass for the now shared water.

The figure who first arrived broke the silence.

“Quiet night, Hmm?” They said. The second figure nodded their head.

“As it can be.” The second said.

The First poured another glass of water and took a long drink, only putting the glass down when it was half empty. To which The Second filled their glass and did the same. This seemed to please the first. So they cleared their throat and prepared to speak.

“What do you have for me?” The First asked.

“The investors are ablaze, and ol’ Nedely sweeping the north for you. If he finds you then he’s liable to run you through. You’re untouchable right now because of the Dante Favor, but I don’t know how long they will wait.” The Second said.

“The Old Man’s mouth always had more teeth than he could bite with. I’m not worried.” The First said.

“Besides that, our agents are in Aeroae, we’re ready to make a move on your command. Just say the word.” The Second said.

“Tell them to wait, I want the first wave integrated first before making a move. See if you can scrounge up any details about the target. I want to know where she is before I make a play.” The First said.

“Got it, lastly, the church rejected your offer. They aren’t interested in whatever you have planned.” The Second said.

“Not good enough, go back and add zeros until they say yes. This is important.” The First said. This elicited silence from The Second.

“I know it’s out of line, but can I ask something?” The second asked.

“That depends?” The First said, a notable sound of shock in their voice. The audacity that any of his agents would even consider it.

“I want to ask about the Dante Favor, what could you possibly have found that would warrant that. Nobody has called that in since-”

“Are you questioning me?” The First said.

“No! I mean… I just can’t fathom it, I feel like a man thrown in the sea being asked to count every drop of water. I had only ever called the Everland favor, and that felt like the end of the world.” The Second said.

Every civilization, organization, group, party, team or any other collection of people with differing goals must have order. Order is the bedrock on which futures are built.

This applies even to the criminal underbelly of the world, thieves and murderers they may be, but thieves do not steal coin for the pleasure, and murderers don’t ply their trade for fun. This was long understood since days long passed.

In an attempt to harness the chaos of the criminal world, a set of 10 “favors” were settled on by scoundrels long dead and buried. They are not rules, nor laws, not even orders. They are suggestions. In the same way that you couldn’t ask a corrupt merchant to lower a price out of the goodness of his heart, but if you offer him something in return then he might be more willing to listen.

In their world, there are ten favors.

Each one calls for a different thing. For example, the Everland Favor is a favor called when one party absolutely must have something they desire. In return it is expected that the caller would give in turn something as valuable or more so when the second party asks. This is often used among intelligence dealers and cutthroat traders to get what they want for short term gains.

Another example is the Harspiece Favor. Normally if you want someone dead, you order a hit on them, if you *really* want them dead, you would hire an assassin. If you don’t simply want someone dead, but you want the very concept of them remaining alive to be an affront to you, then you call in the Harspiece Favor. The victim in question will now be the personal target of every unaffiliated bandit, assassin, and murderer in the country. Simply existing in any place publicly would sign your death warrant. This is a rather more serious Favor, and the aggrieved party would usually require a death of equal severity in the caller's party.

The greatest, and by far most elaborate Favor of them all is the Dante Favor.

This is not simply a trade deal, or a glorified hit. When someone calls the Dante Favor, they take the stage of the underworld and loudly announce “I am your god from now until further notice. My word is law, and my sword is judgment. If you wish to remain in power, I am your friend, and if you are my enemy, you will not remain so.”

The favor is this, the caller in question has information. This information is so important in their eyes that not only do they think it will affect every facet of life for everyone in the country, it could single handedly swing the balance of power on the world stage.

Everyone with a lick of sense would understand that this declaration would never be made lightly, and even if it was the caller would be made such a target that the Harspiece Favor would look like a playful joke.

This entitles the caller to make any order they wish, and everyone at their mercy would have no other choice but to follow them. What is expected in return is two things, first is adequate “advice” to circumnavigate the shifting tide, and the second is that the information be important enough to have not been a waste of time.

The First tapped on the table to draw the barmaid.

“Close the bar.” The First said. There was no question, the maid called closing due to the weather and within 5 minutes the bar was empty.

The first figure lowered his head to reveal a head of neatly cut blonde hair, his young features making him no older than 18 years old.

“You can call me Martin Blue, and I know things that could destroy this country. I don’t expect you to understand.” The Second was shocked, but lowered their hood.

He was an older man, bald and tanned from many years spent in the sun. The early signs of wrinkles forming under his eyes.

“I am Contrast Valle sir.” Valle said.

“Listen to me well, Are you Mystical?” Martin said.

“I’m not, but I have a son who is.” Valle said.

“Then I suggest you take your kid and retire. Take a ship to Halth and seek asylum with the church. Change your name and never return to Legoria again. If you do that you might live to see your son grow up.” Martin said.

“But-”

“You are the first, and so far only person who has been given advice about this. You can choose to ignore it if you want, but I don’t think you can afford to.” Martin said.

“I’ve served in your group for my entire life, I wouldn’t risk leaving now.” Valle said.

“But can you afford to question me?” Martin said.

“At… At the very least sir, I need to finish this last job.” Valle said, catching on to what he was being told to do.

“That’s what I thought.” Martin said. Valle stood up, put his hood up, and excused himself. Martin waited until he heard the door shut. The man they had at the door knew he was still in here so he had some time to himself.

Martin Blue.

It was a name he hadn’t used until now. It was the codename his father told him to use if he ever got involved in dangerous business. It was part of the reason he was so furious, not that anyone would know that. He didn’t blame his father for the reaction he had, but he didn’t need to be so forceful with it.

…

He was there, and he heard it all.

Ander Plact, Headmaster of Cylas College, is attempting to assassinate Andromeda Noelle. Also known as Arch Mage White of King’s Grove.

Albert attended Cylas with the best of intentions. He legitimately wanted to learn how to harness the mystical blood he had inside him. But it seemed that wasn’t the fate he was allowed. While he attended he had to maintain a minimal presence as a member of the Nedely Family. This involved taking risky trips outside the college to meet with his agents. During one of these trips is when he was tipped off to a suspect piece of information they managed to intercept.

A man named Entai Algoer had reached out to Andromeda through a letter, normally this wouldn’t be incredibly hard to believe. Nobles and such often did this despite the restrictions, but this Entai character shouldn’t have had the pull to know Andromeda attended Cylas. The only reason that would have happened is if the headmaster allowed them to do so.

This by itself wasn’t incredibly distressing, it seemed Entai Algoer was a master of mending and Plact was simply forwarding an interesting offer to Andromeda who herself seemed to be a prodigy with it.

Unfortunately, one of his agents noted a suspicious individual being allowed to meet with the Headmaster shortly after, and it was only after this that the message to Andromeda was cleared by Plact. His people investigated this person and found they were a liaison to a cabal of assassins. But it was not one they were familiar with.

After this, Albert had Plact’s office implanted with a rune that could transmit sound over a long distance. He and his group used this to overhear any conversations that might go on.

Once this was set up, something very strange happened. Albert was inundated with correspondence allegedly from his father, but none of it was verified through his personal channels. To not look suspicious he met with several people who all claimed that his father was sick or injured, seemingly not knowing he knew they were lying. At this same time Albert noted that a majority of the staff and alumni of the college were enduring similar situations.

This came to a head when he received an emergency contact from one of his agents while Albert rested in his room between meetings via an enchanted stone in Albert’s inner ear.

Andromeda and Plact met and made an Oath, in short she had to go to Skysea Adalay urgently, and in return she would receive some expensive gear and give some incredible information. She confirmed that she was Arch Mage White. A fact he didn’t seem to know.

When he discovered this, everything fell into place.

There had been rumors about Andromeda since the moment she arrived, between her unnatural talent, her connections with High Magister Ferdinand, and even her own apparent lack of an existence before a few months ago. She was an Arch Mage, and specifically Ferdinand’s Arch Mage.

The sudden military presence in Cylas also made sense, Arch mages were cataclysmic forces of destruction. Even a dozen master mages and an army could scarcely be expected to handle one if they so choose. Any person who is close to them would be considered a great liability and the only thing nobles hate more than each other are people they can’t control.

Place would then be pressured to get rid of Andromeda somehow. But because she was personally admitted by Ferdinand’s order he couldn’t just expel her. So his only other option was to try and forcefully remove her.

The first attempt would likely have been that kidnapping attempt, which understandably didn’t work because Andromeda herself was an Arch mage.

When that didn’t work, Plact must have become desperate and met with the liaison to the assassins. It was right after this meeting that the invitation from Entai Algoer was let through. Andromeda having Andromeda swear to head to that location in such order means that it was a setup. The only wrinkle in Plact’s plan was not realizing what he was dealing with. So after the oath was taken he resigned and went into hiding.

The only part of this whole messy situation was how the attack on Cylas was involved. There could have been any number of reasons for someone to attack, but considering he was informed that Andromeda left before it happened he couldn’t easily say it was related.

All of this taken together has left the entire country in a very dangerous situation.

If the High Magisters realize what Plact (and by extension the greater body of Magi), then it could lead to unilateral outrage from all Arch Mages at the same time. If that happened then the Nobility and the Royal Family would need to polarize between the Magi or the Royally elected High Magisters, and considering the tenuous political situation with the new king and his siblings, that was almost certainly not going to happen.

If the worst comes to it, A civil war would break out between the Magi and the Crown, which would prove disastrous for the military campaign in Halth. If the front crumbles, then the Medea could take it as a sign of weakness and begin another Magi-Medean War.

At the center of this web were two people. Andromeda, for being the target and single handedly being capable of causing a war, and himself, who is likely the only person in the world who knows how close they are to the end.

What he had to consider now was how best to prevent a war, and how to prevent her from getting murdered. His only hope was that he moved quick enough, because if he didn’t, then he would be the only one who could run.