Once the guards had returned to their duties, Albrecht spoke. He apologized for leaving Arannis to fend off their questions, and inquired about Arannis’ offer of employment. Arannis felt the services of a martial expert would be useful. He no longer had the reputation he once drew upon to protect from all but major threats, and the threats of this new world were unknown to him.

“I do.” Arannis answered, “It would make me feel safer in my travels were I not alone in watching for danger.” He pointed to the corpse, “Men such as he are like rodents in a city. I am not without the ability to defend myself, but I cannot see everywhere at all times.” Crime was indeed a problem in every city. Even the grand city of Aira at Arannis’ home had its share of crime. It may have been lessened after the social assistance programs the king had designed had taken effect, but a criminal element was still present. Arannis hoped that this city had relative peace, but the events this night concerned him. 'Typical criminal element' did not usually include mages, at least not at the street thug level. If mages were accosting people on the street, then there might be something far more sinister in the works.
The pair continued on their way, slowly moving out of the lower district in the direction of Arannis’ inn by the harbor. The mists thickened even more as they neared the water, and the scent of the sea became prevalent. Lanterns on the streets grew in number and density and the quality and condition of the stone streets gradually grew. More guards surrounded the pair in this section of town, but another focus of will from Arannis caused another slight breeze, muffling casual attempts to listen in on their conversation. Rather than parting the mists, this breeze drew them in. Arannis obscured their path to any who might be watching. Control over the flow of information was the most powerful ability in the world, and Arannis always seized opportunities such as this to exercise that power. When they had breached the barrier to the harbor district, not far from the merchant district, Arannis had dropped the illusions surrounding himself. No longer did Arannis appear in simple clothes with obscured features. Arannis appeared to the world in his finery once more. The sorcerer vastly preferred this appearance.

The guise of nobility was an armor of its own. It could attract attention, but Arannis was usually capable of handling such unwanted annoyances. It served its purpose of humbling most who one interacted with. When a merchant believed you to be in possession of vast stores of wealth, they suddenly started to go out of their way to make you happy. When you walked with the image of the royalty, not even the most corrupt of guards would dare accost or question you. The commoners would part in your wake, even if they would stare. Appearance was a powerful tool, one which Arannis had been manipulating for a long while. It had built him a reputation back at home. He displayed such a level of confidence, some would call it arrogance, as to walk into the most dangerous of situations dressed for the opera.

When demons attacked or an expedition to another world was launched, there was Arannis Falone. Dressed in his typical style as if the crisis had not even affected his dinner plans. Though Arannis was never as popular as someone like his bard friend, that aura of confidence was enough to spread the word of his name. It was sufficient that once his reputation was built, he could walk through most anywhere without fear. However, back then Arannis had the power to back up his arrogance. Here, Arannis was struggling to touch the same level of magic he was once capable of. As Arannis’ power regrew, so to would his public displays. The sorcerer knew better than most to underestimate the power of a reputation.

“I can pay you the standard fee for a sellsword,” Arannis offered. He avoided the exact value as he knew negotiations about the ‘standard’ fee were soon to follow. “And as a bonus,” the sorcerer continued, “I will teach you the basics of warding magics. When I am done with you, never again will a trivial cast of flame mar your features.”

Arannis’ offer was designed to draw the man in, and keep him loyal. He offered only the typical market value of such labor, rather than a higher price, so he could avoid seeming desperate or needy. This would make the job sound like a simple endeavor. But, in order to assure the man’s loyalty, Arannis offered something that another employer could not. The gift of knowledge. Albrecht did not seem to Arannis to be a stupid man. Arannis was sure he could appreciate the value of such a gift, especially with recent circumstances still at the front of his mind.

By this time the pair had arrived at Arannis’ inn. It was a humble looking three story establishment on the water’s edge. A sign out front proclaimed the inn to be “Romane’s Inn”. The smell of seawater was especially prevalent now, the harbor visible just behind the inn itself. It was a simple looking establishment that was easy for a casual traveler to overlook. Arannis awaited his companion’s response as he casually waited across the street from the building.

As the pair stood before the inn, Albrecht listened to the lilting music that eminated from the establishment. He was contemplating his answer to the mage's offer. Huddling under his short, grey cloak he weighed his options. The earlier events only amplified his need for a way to compete against magic. But could he actually learn magic? Tests in his youth had indicated he had no talent. That was, after all, why he had thrown himself into sword training in the first place. Maybe this man could succeed where others had failed…it seemed worth a try.

And if it did not work, well…gold was still gold.

A hand slipped out of one side of the wool cloak. Brushing the garment down, Albrecht said, "Tempting, but my services are quite highly regarded. I'm no standard mercenary and am worth more than standard pay." A slight smirk crossed his face. He hardly enjoyed haggling over his fee but the craft was a sad necessity of his chosen profession. So, he would play the part of tradesman, hyping his skill and trading barbs until both could huff about getting the short trade while secretly certain they had "won."

Arannis smirked as the negotiations began, “Highly regarded? I don’t seem to have heard of you. Honestly, you’re lucky to get standard. Most mercenaries would be taking a cut for a job as simple as this.”

Arannis enjoyed bartering. It wasn’t often that he did it anymore. He had contractors to pick up goods for him, he rarely visited the markets himself now. Albrecht seemed like a rather direct person, so Arannis decided to move in for the kill, “I will be offering you a service that no other could provide in return. It would honestly be fairer if I deducted my standard fee from your wages.”

It wasn’t completely true, there were perhaps others who would be able to teach basic spells as Arannis planned to. However, it wasn’t completely false either. In Arannis’ experience, not many instructors were willing to work with part time mages. They wanted students fully committed to the art, not someone looking to learn cantrips.

Arannis pondered. Perhaps he could appeal to the man’s better nature. If Arannis was right about the swordsman, it would make his offer difficult to refuse. Arannis offered a hand, “Take my hand, we can continue negotiations in my room at the inn.”

It seemed Albrecht had overplayed his hand. Honestly, he should have known better but there was nothing to be done about that now. As Arannis spoke, the mercenary felt his mouth pull into a tight line. All of a sudden, he did not know if he was being payed less than "standard." And his pay grew less and less certain with every passing syllable. It was really quite shameful, him being a merchant's son and still ending up with more the proverbial "short stick."

Obviously, learning magic, even a little could be useful, but…

At the suggestion that they retire to privacy to continue negotiating, Albrecht found no objection. After all, the street was hardly a comfortable place to conduct business. Truthfully, he had hoped the conversation might go this direction but personal courtesy dictated one must be invited and not request invitation. "I seen no problem with that," Albrecht said, clasping the mages hand so that he might be led to the mage's quarters.

Albrecht clasped Arannis’ hand and agreed to continue the conversation in private. Arannis focused his will, and pictured in his mind the destination. He pictured a modest room with a pair of beds with tan sheets. The beds were each the same distance from the North and South walls, respectively. Between the beds, against the West wall, there was a dark oak chest of drawers with a large crack on the right side. Across the room, on the East wall stood a solidly built table of the same shade of oak. The table however was sturdier than the drawers. Two chairs flanked the table, both also of that dark oak. The chairs were just as well made as the table. The floor was of a different wood, and grained in the typical chaotic pattern. The sea-blue curtains flapped gently in the breeze, the scent of the sea pouring into the room. Just as Arannis imagined it, so it was. The sorcerer and the swordsman stood in Arannis’ room at the inn. However, there was one additional feature of the room that Arannis had not used in his visual anchor.

“Dad, you’re back!” A young boy said, quickly hiding some parchment within his bag and getting up from one of the beds.

Arannis smiled, “Aran, weren’t you supposed to be in bed?”

“Well, I was in the bed. . .” Aran tried to cover himself before breaking down in a fit of giggles.

Arannis swept over to the seven year old and wrapped him in a hug, “You know what I meant, Aran.”

Looking up to the swordsman, Arannis spoke again, “Albrecht, this is my son, Aran. He is the core reason I desire your protective services. I wish to take Aran with me as I venture into the city, he grows rather bored staying at the inn. I want you to keep an eye out for any who would do harm to us.”

A large raven sitting on the windowsill stared at the sorcerer and squawked. Arannis glared at the bird and whispered a word in the demon tongue. The raven flinched as if struck and then returned to perching motionlessly on the windowsill.

Meanwhile, Aran freed himself from his father’s grasp and scampered over to Albrecht, “Hi! My name’s Aran, it is very nice to meet you sir.” The precocious child held out a hand to shake in a manner highly reminiscent of his father. It was an adorable sight.

Arannis chuckled at his son’s antics before addressing the swordsman again, “I will be happy to pay thirty percent above standard for your services, plus the magic lessons as a bonus.”

“My dad’s teaching you magic?” Aran questioned, “He’s teaching me too! Look!” Aran quickly darted across the room to his bag and pulled out the parchment he had hastily shoved in there earlier. Unfurling it he ran back to Albrecht and showed him, “See. This is a spell my dad cast a few days ago. This means protection,” the child pointed to a primordial rune that had been sketched with all the finesse a seven year old could muster, “And this means shadow!” He pointed to a second rune in the infernal tongue, entwined with the first rune. The pair of runes together looked a bit more like a large smudge than proper magical sigils, but it was quite a good representation for a child as young as he.

After Aran had finished showing off his work, Arannis approached the swordsman, “Do we have a deal?”

Albrecht was a little disoriented as his world shifted drastically. He knew he should have expected it but the transition was still jarring. It took a child's voice to help him catch up with his surroundings. Turning he saw the boy dart toward the mage, calling him "Dad." So, the man needed protection for more than just himself. He understood that much without Arannis telling him.

At the child's offered hand, Albrecht took it. Shaking, he introduced himself. "Greetings Aran, I am Albrecht Krieger. I am a new friend of your father." He eventually freed his hand as Arannis returned to the subject of bargaining. It was underhanded, really, using his son as leverage in the exchange. Underhanded, though not ineffective. Still, a third again of an average bodyguard fee was better than he had been expecting.

The boy called his attention to some sort of magic script he had been working on once he had heard Albrecht was trying to "learn magic." Deciding not to bring up the very real issue that he may well have no affinity for magic, the swordsman studied the sigils. "Really, now," he said, hoping he did not sound patronizing. "I can tell they must be quite powerful."

Turning back to Arannis, Albrecht felt obligated to answer. "Yes, we have a deal. Draw up some documents so we can make things legal." This would ensure that neither could go back on the deal without consequences.

After Albrecht’s agreement, Arannis pulled out two sheets of fresh parchment and sat down at the small table. He pulled a pair of quills and a pair of ink bottles. He placed the two sheets side by side, with the two ink bottles above them. He placed each quill upon a parchment sheet, letting it go after placing it standing upright at the top. The pair of quills maintained their upright positions, defying gravity. Finally, Arannis grasped the quill on the right and dipped it in ink. The quill on the left mirrored his movements perfectly. Arannis began to write.

As Arannis worked, Aran chattered excitedly at the swordsman, “Are you a swordmaster? Do you use other weapons too? What about bows? A lot of swordsman I’ve heard about weren’t supposed to be good with bows. Were you in the military? Did you ever kill anyone?”

Arannis looked up from his work and gave Aran a stern look, “Aran, you are overwhelming the man. Be polite.” The look had that appearance of “we’ll talk about this later” that any child is familiar with. Aran quickly silenced himself, looking to the floor in a bashful manner.

He drew up a standard contract with all the fixings. Each clause in the flawless legalese of the upper courts. When it was eventually finished, Arannis held his left hand over the parchment, and a gentle breeze stirred up to dry the ink. With the contract completed, Arannis signed the bottom and placed his quill on the table. He stood and offered the seat to Albrecht.

Aran's harried questions came rapidly and Albrecht did not even have a chance to answer the first before the second one came. Volleys of questions left him indecisive about where to start. He was about to caution the boy on the virtues of patience when the boy's father scolded him. And while he had been wholy willing to answer the child's questions, the look in the mage's eyes suggested he not.

Moving to the second piece of hide, Albrecht peered down, careful to avoid interfering with the replicated motion of the pen. He was able to follow the flowery language easily enough, though on some occasions he found himself translating internally to make sure he understood. He had never been a personal fan of extravagant language as he found it was often used to confuse the poorer party and create loopholes in deals. Luckily, the mercenary found nothing like that here. Good, Albrecht would not have to stab his new friend in the hand.

As the mage finshed and signed the contracts, it came time for the mercenary to ink his name as well. Taking the offered seat, Albrecht picked up the feather and dipped it into the well. He signed in a practiced, flowing script that one did not often associate with a sellsword. He repeated this process with the second contract, standing as he found it simpler than trying to shuffle the document over.

Turning back to Arannis, the swordman handed off the pen. "Now that I'm officially working for you, I should probably get a room here. I'll need to retrieve my bag as well, so if you'll excuse me…" He would also need to let the other innkeeper know to forward any messages as well.

They could continue their journey in the morning.