It was evening when Arannis left the inn. He stepped out into the cool night air. There was a light mist in the cool air, and the roads were full of shadows dancing in the weak light of lanterns. Arannis feared not the unknowns that lurked in the dark of the empty city streets. It was a relief not to have to deal with the crowds that had filled the narrow walkways during the day. He could work on his internal map of the city this evening, and simply portal to his destination tomorrow. He set off in search of the mage's college he had heard about.

Arannis had been walking for several minutes. The gardens which looked so colorful during the day looked cool and mysterious in the darkness, the shapes of the plants gently swaying in the night breeze. He walked further from the harbor and slowly left the smell of the sea behind. The air was cool and crisp, and the night still as he passed through several districts. He eventually became a tad lost, the city looked different at night than it had mere hours ago. The buildings in this section of town were in serious need of repair. He saw one or two people dressed in dark clothes making their way up and down the street. Summoning shadows around himself, his appearance shifted. He appeared a bit taller, a bit broader, and a bit more threatening than his true appearance would suggest. The figures gave him a wide berth has he continued.

Arannis made his way out of the district, until the a scream of pain pierced the night. He looked into an alley towards the source of the sound. He sawe a teen, a dagger jutting from his leg, crawling away from a broad man who slowly stalked after him. Arannis could not hear what they were saying, but he saw the injured one hurl a coinpurse in the direction of the other. Arannis turned to depart, when suddenly a third man entered the scene. A lean, athletic man of below average height who drew a longsword as he entered the alley.

With a few rare exceptions, Albrecht had absolutely no familiarity with magic. While he had no distinct fear of it, he had no real sense of what magic actually was. Those mages he had met had made it seem like it was an extention of their own identity, much like his sword was to him. He knew its value, the way it simplified people's lives and so on. That was why he had come to this city, after all.

Still, it was by chance he had gotten lost within the sprawling city for the better part of four hours and it was by chance he found his way to the dilapidated slums in one out of the way section of the city and it was by chance he heard the scream of someone being attacked in an alley. But it was by choice he went to investigate, finding a large man standing over a boy.

"Please," the boy begged in a quivering voice, "take it. Just don't kill me." He hurled a satchel of coins at the larger man, dragging himself backward.

Catching the small bag, the man sneered down. "To late for that, whelp. Shoulda just handed it over in the first place." At the sound of footsteps behind him, the goon turned to see an advancing swordsman. "Back off, hero. You're in over your head."

"Maybe," Albrecht shouted back. "But I cannot abide trash getting a happy ending." Without waiting for a response, the swordsman rushed forward. He had no intention of giving the thug a chance to defend himself.

Which is why he was so surprised when the large man turned around and blew at him. At first, all Albrecht saw was a starburst of red; the shape expanded into a radiant white. And then there was only pain: pain as his eyes boiled; pain as his skin blistered; pain as hair burned down to the roots.

Albrecht dropped his sword as he backed away, clutching his face as he screamed. Every attempt to blink away the pain only amplified the agony as the now blinded swordman struggled to regain his bearings. "Shouldn't have tried to play hero," came the deep voice of the thug/mage. A force drove the swordsman against a wall as a large hand closed around his neck.

The fencer knew he had one last chance at surviving and he refused to waste it. As best he could, Albrecht ignored the pain in his charred face and his aching lungs. Glasping his dagger, in his right hand, he drew it, slamming its pommel into the goons elbow, breaking the man's pin. Pushing the elbow higher, Albrecht could imagine how awkward the man looked. Thanks to years of practice, the swordsman knew where to put his dagger. Hammering down with three stabs was all it took and the large man went limp.

Without the thug to support him, a now blind Albrecht toppled through him sprawling into the alley. "Gods damn magic…" he muttered to himself.

The swordsman moved with a certain poise that suggested skill, but was clearly unprepared for what he found in that alley on that night. What happened next surprised even Arannis. As the swordsman intervened in his attempt to save the boy on the ground, the hulking thug unleashed a gust of embers at him. The swordsman was caught completely off guard, and the embers scorched the flesh of his face. He screamed and the thug pinned him to the wall with a meaty forearm. It looked like that battle was lost. Arranis ignored the pair and approached the youth on the ground. The dagger embedded in his thigh was finely made, far too delicately designed to be found on your typical street thug. The thug's hidden talent and the dagger combined to form a mystery that intrigued Arannis. As the swordsmen and the thug grappled, Arannis approached the youth. He had been crawling towards his coin purse during the struggle.

Arannis lazily moved his hand forward, unleashing a gentle gust of wind that pushed the coins up to the youth's outstretched hand. The youth gave Arannis a fearful look, and Arannis bent down and ripped the dagger from his leg. The boy screamed at the same time the thug did. Arannis looked up to see the swordsman pulling his dagger from the third of a set of stab wounds in the mage’s body. Arranis had underestimated the man. Blinded and in pain, he had fought on and defeated what appeared to be a stronger opponent. Perhaps he could be of use. Arranis looked at the trembling teen below him, and breathed out a single word. “Heal.”

The wound on the boy's leg closed, and the color returned to his face. The boy got to his feet to flee the alley. Arannis pocketed the finely made dagger as his other hand reached out and grabbed the kid's arm. The kid yelped in surprise before Arannis spoke in a hushed tone.

“Mainway and Grand Canal. Tomorrow at midnight. There will be silver.” Arranis punctuated the final line with a silver coin pressed into the youth's hand. Arranis released the teen and he fled the alley. Hopefully Arannis would find himself an obedient informant. If not, he could at least investigate the dagger.

Finally, Arannis turned to the blind swordsman who lay sprawled on the ground, “Brave thing you did there, saving a stranger like that.” As he spoke, Arannis approached the man and put a hand on his shoulder. He concentrated on the shorter man's wounds and magic flowed over his skin and to the burns on his face. Skin regrew and flesh knitted back together as the healing energy repaired the damages. Best for the swordsman to start off in Arannis’ debt. Offering his other hand to help the man up, Arannis said, "Name's Arannis."

As vision returned, Albrecht looked up at his savior, a man clad in expensive looking clothes. Taking advantage of the offered hand the swordsman rose back to his feet. Clearly, the man was a mage, considering the current state of the swordsman's eyes. Still, he was a bit sensitive and Albrecht found himself blinking away his fuzzy vision.

Turning back to the man, Arannis as he introduced himself, the fighter responded in kind. "Albrecht. And not truly brave considering I didn't know he was a mage." Glancing about, he found his fallen sword. Scooping it up, he checked the blade for damag before slipping it back into his scabbard. Scanning the alley again, Albrecht noticed the boy was gone. "I assume you healed the kid first and sent him off?"

Returning to the dead goon, Albrecht retrieved his dagger, which had been driven through the large man's sternum. Wrenching the needle sharp weapon free, he wiped the blade clean on the man's shirt; after all, he would not be complaining. Sheathing the smaller weapon, the fencer continued to muse, saying, "You don't usually think of mages as bandits and extortionists but I suppose any weapon will do." Turning back to Arannis, he added, "I should probably contact the authorities and let them know what happened here."

“A pleasure to meet you, Albrecht. You still did more than the average person would have. Countless muggings go unopposed in cities. I would call an act of defiance such as this ‘bravery’,” Arannis punctuated his praise with a kind smile.

“Yes, I healed the boy and sent him on his way.” Arannis watched Albrecht’s reaction carefully. With a bit of luck, the man would think Arannis nothing more than a generous healer. Albrecht’s reactions so far told much about his character. Humble, quick to defend those perceived as innocent, and an immediate desire to appeal to authority. Albrecht reminded him of many an adventurer he had encountered. Each as easy to manipulate as the last.

“It is rather odd that one with arcane talents is turning to crime such as this. Though, I am rather new to the city. Perhaps it is the norm here? What about you? Are you from around here?”

Informing the authorities could make things simpler or more complex for Arannis. If this mage was merely a common street thug, then informing them of what happened tonight would keep them from investigating and stirring up the waters. However, if there was something more to this crime, then authorities poking about could drive related parties deeper underground. Arannis would have to take the risk. Hopefully his informant would come through.

“Yes, you should inform the authorities of what happened here immediately, lest they assume this death was in cold blood.”

At first, Albrecht took the man to be no more than a kind soul with no ulterior motives. But upon the man's initial exchange, it became clear that the magus was trying to read him. What he was looking for was hard - perhaps impossible - to tell but there was something there, just behind the eyes. Still, the man had helped him so he owed him a favor. The swordsman shrugged; he'd make his call when the bill came due.

At the man's probing, the fencer shook his head. "I'm actually an outsider as well. But from what little I know, this city is the premier place to learn the fundamentals of magic. In my line of work, you meet all kinds so I hoped to learn enough to develop an effective counter to magic." With an eye role and a wry smile, he glanced at the dead brute. "No luck so far."

Glancing back to Arannis, the fencer, ready to quit the alley, suggested, "We should go find a guard then." Turning back toward the street, he added, "Perhaps I could ask where you came from; how long you've been in town?" It was mostly just small talk since Albrecht had little idea how long it might take to find a guard.

Albrecht revealed he was also an outsider. Arannis was hoping he could find a native with a better grasp of the city, but this man was at least more familiar with the place than Arannis himself. It would be difficult not to be. Additionally, the swordsman had provided Arannis with a perfect opening.

The pair walked along a canal through the still, moonlit night. A cool mist had descended during their time in the streets, further muffling the sounds of the city and leaving them in near perfect silence. Arannis found such silence peaceful, reminiscent of home. The sorcerer did his best to guide the both of them in the direction of one of the more wealthy districts. Arannis figured that the guard presence at the border between the districts should be quite dense.

“I am from a land far, far from here. I doubt you’ve heard its name,” Arannis made his response to the swordsman’s inquiry sound casual, hopefully it wouldn’t provoke a follow up question. “I arrived some days ago now, it has been a pleasant stay so far.”

As they continued, Arannis made his offer, “I am rather adept at defending against magical forces. Perhaps I could teach you a thing or two? I could use someone of your skills to watch my back during my stay here, and would be happy to help you as you help me.”

As they walked, Albrecht noticed the chill and found himself thankful for his thick doublet. The warrior took in a deep breath as the tension of the earlier fight began to ebb. He rolled his neck, a nervous habit that he sometimes adopted when he was waiting for the second shoe to drop. At the mage's proposition, the fencer remained silent for a time. Part of him doubted Arannis could actually help him, though such assumptions could ultimately prove erroneous. "I may have to take you up on that," he said.

By now, their brief trek had brought the pair to a gatehouse that connected the current ward to the next. As expected, a pair of guards flanked the narrow archway and looked up as the Albrecht and Arannis approached. "Excuse me," the swordsman addressed them. Sticking a thumb over his shoulder, he coninued, "I need to report an incident some ways up the street. I was cutting through an alley and a man attacked me. You should still be able to find his body where I left it." He elected not to mention the boy, or the fact the dead man had been a mage. It would change the facts, ultimately.

One of the guards passed a glance to the other in an indecipherable exchange. "Show us," he ordered, leaving no room for debate.

Albrecht passed his new companion a impatient shrug. "I guess we walk back now?" Part of him hoped the mage could conjure up a shortcut though he had no interest in pushing the matter.

Albrecht seemed a suspicious of Arannis’ offer, but he still accepted it. Arannis could teach the man. He had managed to shape his former apprentice from nothing into a wizard of worldwide fame, surely he could teach a swordsman a cantrip or two. Though the magics of this world were different from Arannis’ home, magic was something that came naturally to the sorcerer. In his time here so far he had slowly become able to feel the arcane energies again. He could feel the flow and shape of the magics that surrounded him, permeated every living and every inanimate thing that made up this city. From the subtle magics binding the stones into whole solids, to the power of the blood rushing through the veins of each person. Arannis could feel most intensely the magic within himself. His research into the nature of sorcery, the nature of the innate power within a select few individuals, had lead him to more and more discoveries as the years had progressed. He recalled when his uncle had first told him of his research.

His uncle was a wizard, not a sorcerer, but he had a fascination with the sorcerous spark. Wizardry was well known, and well understood. It was the mere shaping of the magical currents that existed everywhere. Sorcery on the other hand, was a great unknown. The idea of innate power, and pouring out one’s will to shape the world. It was long regarded as unknowable. But Arannis’ uncle, and later Arannis himself, had made it their mission to unravel the secrets of this power. After decades of research, Arannis knew he was closer than ever to his goal. He had mastered Wizardry as he came to terms with his own sorcerous abilities, and gained a deep understanding of both himself and others.

Arannis looked forward to sharing this with another. It had been years since he had an apprentice. He had Aran, but Aran was far too young to shape power in such ways. He had begun teaching Aran the basics of Wizardry with their games. Learning how to shape and connect runes to control the flow of power. Such were the fundamentals of controlling magic. Shaping and channeling it to your will. Arannis hoped that Aran had inherited his natural magical spark. Arannis had always assumed he would, given the circumstances of the boy’s birth, but Aran himself was a magical mystery of his own. Perhaps one even more fundamental than the questions of Sorcery.

Arannis would not, under any circumstances try to test Aran for the spark. The boy deserved a real childhood, the kind that Arannis had taken from him. Arannis did feel guilty sometimes. Was traveling the planes with his father really a proper childhood? But he could not bear to leave the boy behind. The few he trusted had their own lives, they could not care for his child during these absences. Arannis had the wealth, he could have simply retired to raise Aran. But he could not bear to leave his research incomplete. Perhaps in the end, Arannis was just selfish. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. Perhaps after this venture he should simply retire. At least until the boy was old enough to be more independent.

Lost in thought as he was, Arannis hadn’t noticed they had nearly arrived at the upper district. Arannis scolded himself, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. The streets they tread slowly improved as they approached the border between districts. The rough stone of the lower districts slowly starting to give way to cobblestone walkways. He saw the guards ahead. Luckily, in the darkness and the mists they had yet to see the approaching pair. Arannis lagged slightly behind his companion and called to the shadows again.

Arannis made himself seem a bit less noticeable, his clothes changed to appear more common, more similar to what a typical merchant would don than nobility. It was best if he was not remembered in conjunction with the night’s events, so he became as bland and typical as possible. He bent the light to slightly obscure his face, make it a bit more difficult for any observers to remember what he looked like. The minor illusions would hopefully be enough.

When they reached the guards, Albrecht began explaining the situation. Arannis simply nodded in support when the guards looked in his direction, and they kept their focus wholly on the swordsman as they ordered the man to take them to the scene of the incident. The swordsman shrugged at the sorcerer in a rather impatient manner as he declared that they should walk back. Arannis got the impression that his companion expected him to provide a solution. Instead, Arannis simply began walking in the direction they had come from. Arannis didn’t enjoy retreading the path any more than Albrecht did, but he was not going to start flaunting his powers in front of the officials. It would be far easier if they had no reason to remember him.

They made their way through the night. It continued to chill and the mists thickened further. Arannis expertly guided the group back to the alley where this night had begun. The mists obscured the view, but with a touch of will a slight breeze picked up and the mists parted from the alley for a brief time. Words and incantations, hand waving and wands, such things were merely aids to casting. With the right focus, Arannis could forgo all of them. Unless they were deeply attuned to arcane energies, his companions would not realize Arannis had done anything. To them, a breeze just happened to pick up at the right moment.

With the mists parted, the body was revealed. It was a large man, a few inches taller than Arannis and significantly broader. His flesh had paled in the short time the body had been left here. He wore a simple green tunic and grey trousers. His tan hair was stained red with the blood. Fluids were still leaking from the three stab wounds on the body, the blood congealing into a thick vermilion mess.

“You say he attacked you?” one of the guards questioned, looking suspiciously at Albrecht, “I don’t see a weapon on him.”

This was where things became dangerous. It was the word of two men against the silence of the grave. Albrecht was unwounded thanks to Arannis’ healing. Perhaps Arannis’ humble guise was a mistake. Had Arannis approached these guards with the glamor of nobility, they would have believed anything that he had said. In his current, unassuming disguise, they had far more reason to be suspicious of such a one-sided battle. Arannis took a risk and bent his illusions one last time. Arannis had to trust that his illusions up until this point were successful at leading the guards to overlook him. If they had not paid any attention to him until now, this new ruse would work. Unfortunately, it had one more side effect of revealing information to the guards that Arannis had hoped to keep quiet. Arannis finished bending his illusions, and finally spoke.

“The man hurled flames, conjured from nothing.” As he spoke, Arannis pulled open his outer coat, revealing a seemingly burnt shirt beneath. He pulled that back as well to show red, blistered flesh. The guards eyed Arannis suspiciously, and Arannis worried that they would see through his illusions. Arannis had done his best to stack the odds in his favor. Thought the shirt was unblemished, Arannis did have the scar of an old arrow wound in the spot he was glamouring. The disfigured flesh made the illusion trivial to anchor, it just needed some extra discoloration and a blister or two. One of the guards moved slightly closer to Arannis, and Arannis put all his focus into maintaining the glamor.

The guard looked Arannis in the eye and spoke, “You should get that looked at. It could get infected.”

Arannis almost let out a sigh of relief as the guard turned back to Albrecht, “We will file a report of the incident and get an ID on the suspect. Don’t leave town for the next few days, in case we have more questions. Where are you staying?”

Upon their return to the alley, Albrecht pointed out the cadaver. One of the guards, handing off his poleaxe to his partner, went to examine the body. As he did so, he seemed to grow increasingly incredulous. Ater scanning the alley, he returned to confront the swordsman.

Albrecht assumed he had a good enough explanation. The assailant was large enough, it was feasible that he could have fought with his bare hands. He was reluctant to say there was magic at play; considering the social climate of the city, he partly wondered if those that could not use magic were seen as somehow less.

His caution became irrelevant as Arannis spoke, and revealed an injury the swordsman was fairly certain had not been present moments earlier. This seemed to satisfy the guard as he advised the man to seek a healer. The next part was fairly standard, the guards said they would look into things, do not leave town, et cetera. Albrecht said, "I'm at the Iron Moth." Nestled into the edge of the merchant district, it was a semi-popular hostel for travelling mercenaries.

As one of the guards left to file their report and Albrecht took his companion aside. "Sorry I put you on the spot earlier." He decided not to elaborate; there were enough incidents to allow for a blanket apology. Still, the gruesome business in te alley done, the conversation moved on to employment: "You mentioned having need of a good sword arm? Perhaps we could discuss that further?"