Deep into the night, at the third city gate of Finicks Bay, a man clad in black robes and armed with a meak-looking sword stood silently. He had a long scar that ran from one side of his face to the other. He had been waiting there for almost two hours longer than had been agreed upon, and it was showing on his face. When they got there, he swore that he would break someone's neck.

Almost a half hour later, his ‘partners’ showed up. One was a normal-looking man with graying hair and a smile that would make a snake suspicious. Next to him was a figurative giant of a creature. It stood at least 10 feet tall, and its body, round with odd sharp protrusions showing through its clothing, was nothing like a normal being should have.

“Where are the rest?” The scarred man asked. “There have been issues…” The old man hesitated. “In the city with some surprisingly difficult individuals. My lord requires more time.” the scarred man scoffed.

“And more funding from your Captain.” He added. In a flash, the scarred man’s sword had been removed from its sheath, and pointed at the old man's throat, drawing a trickle of blood. The old man put his hands up appealingly, a smirk coming over his face.

“I think you should be slower to take action against me, Mr. Drake.” He said as he pointed at his large companion. The creature had one of its hands extended, except it hardly resembled a hand anymore. Tubs and wires intermingled with dark, unnatural flesh. pulses of a dark red light showed through the skin in a consistent rhythm.

Magic was pooling around its hand, ready to be released at a moment's notice.

“My lord has sent you a mercenary for the time being. It is all he can spare.” He moved Drake’s blade away from his neck with a finger. The scarred man raised a hand in supplication as he stared into the void-like cawl of the giant.

Sheathing his weapon, he pulled a hefty bag from his belt. “A 1000 gold hulvs.” He handed it to the old man. “A pleasure doing business with you and your lord, Mr. Drake.” He said as he turned to leave. “The Captain will not give your lord anymore, Unki. Not until you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Unki turned in a practiced motion, his face calm. “We understand.” He bowed. “Also, I almost forgot. My lord advises you to only use him once your Captain has fully begun his plan. They usually tend to attract attention.” He jerked a thumb at the giant.

He turned, waving a hand, before stopping. He stared past Drake, into the night, his eyes searching for something. “Mr. Drake, just a warning from a concerned partner, but I feel you should make sure that this meeting was private.”

Drake nodded as he too stared into the sleeping city.

“Good.” Said Orby through their improved mental connection. Tay was sweating hard, rubbing his eyes with a clean cloth as he stood, using his sword for balance. They had been training all of that morning the day after Orby returned. It was difficult still to communicate with the Spirit, but it turned out that it was incredibly knowledgeable when it came to fighting.

“How…” He breathed shakily. “much more?” He was trying his best, but trying to fight his familiar was proving difficult. Neither of them were using magic, which helped to slow exhaustion and thus slowed for them to train longer. At least that's what he thought the Spirit had meant when it said “Magic. No.”

That was the real issue that still persisted. Tay was certain that for some reason, the Spirit was being limited in some way, which was not something he was familiar with through any number of books he had ever read. He also got a feeling that the Spirit was angry with him. He wasn’t sure of that, however.

“Once.” The Spirit said after a moment. Tay grunted before standing back up. He readied himself as the Spirit floated around him. It was up to Tay to dictate the start of their matches. He had to feel when Orby showed him an opening. That's what Orby had told him anyway. But when your opponent had no discernible features, it—There! He almost lept towards the ball of fire as he felt the unmistakable feeling that that had been the moment.

Which…was odd considering that had been the first time he had ever felt such a thing. He decided not to think about that at that moment. Orby only just managed to avoid the swing—Tay was careful to keep his strength under control so as not to hurt his familiar.

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Orby apparently didn’t share his sentiment as he rammed,full-speed, into Tay’s back. The adventurer fell to the ground, his sword slipping from his grasp. He rolled as he fell, putting his fist’s up in defense, ready for another attack. None came.

“The hell was that for?” He asked as he brushed off sand from his pants. “Hesitation.” It said methodically. He rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t ‘hesitating.’” He said, knowing it to be untrue. “I just…didn’t want to hurt you.” The Spirit stared eyelessly as Tay starred definitely back.

“Well, anyways, I’m glad this—” He waved his hands in circles. “—is over.” He collected his things as he carefully traversed his way back to the city. A thought, or rather a memory occurred to him as his feet slipped on the rocks that had been wormed by the Spirit.

“Is what Alexander said about you true?” He asked. “About you being an elder Spirit—or a ‘returner.’” He recalled the name Alexander had used. The Spirit held an uncharacteristic silence, and Tay felt it best to not press his Friend anymore.

Kimber Franks sat at his small desk in his small office in an unimportant wing of the Red Cross Guild. He was sweating. His power was shadow Magic, some called it dark magic. Both are, in a way, correct. One of his spells he gained after reaching level 3 was a form of teleportation.

It allowed him to move from one place to another almost instantly, the only downside was that wherever he was, and wherever he moved to, there had to be some form of shadow. At night, however, that was not an issue.

That power had been more useful to Kimber than anything he had ever gained. And he had only ever regretted using it once; last night. He heard things at the third gate that he couldn’t ignore,

and he saw things that made those things serious.

Lokvik Drake was the lieutenant of the Red Cross Guild, and the most direct subordinate to Henry Carval. He was a man who rarely showed himself in front of anyone except for the Captain. So of course he followed him that night. Who wouldn’t? His magic allowed him to set checkpoints around any area within several miles of him, with one of its restrictions that it only worked at night.

The second restriction was that he had to flag people for the spell to detect. It wasn’t an omnipotent ability, so he couldn’t simply set the spell to alert him of the activity of every person in the city. But the one time that he had previously met the lieutenant, he knew he needed to keep an eye on him.

He sat back in his chair, letting his arms, which had been holding his head, rest.

If he was to believe what he heard that night—and he certainly couldn’t ignore it, then he would be going down a very, very deep hole, one he doubted he could, or would come back from.

Almost jumping from his chair, he hurried out the room. If his Captain was plotting something, he needed to find out what it was. He was…attached to the city, and he didn’t want to see it hurt by politics. The issue was, however, that he didn’t know where to start. The only lead he had was Drake himself, and the giant. Of the two, he suspected one would be far easier to investigate.

It was midday in Finnick's Bay, the sun beaming down on the seaside city. The warmth seemed to mix with the salty air, creating a pleasant scent. Kimber Frank walked into a little-known tavern called The Wife's Worst Friend. Very Tasteful. Thought Kimber. It had been renamed by an old friend of his not long ago. He hoped to find some information there.

Inside, music was being played loudly in the corner of the room, and the smell of booze hung stiflingly thick. Looking around the rather cramped Tavern—and noticing more than a few people he recognized, he took a seat at the bar.

A man in a ratty tuxedo and with hair that looked to have been cut by the dullest, most unwieldy sword walked over to him, a glass and rag in hand. “Well, well. If it ain’t little Kimy.” Said the man in a slightly slurred accent. Kimber knew that to be normal for him.

“Hey Monte.” Kimber greeted. Monte Hays was possibly Kimber's only true friend, and was for all intents and purposes, his unrelated brother. “You drinking again?” Asked Monte. Kimber shook his head. “No…” He leaned over the counter. “I need your help. I think something fishy’s going on around here.” His words were hidden by the gaggle of voices.

Monte chuckled. “What tipped you off? The rampant crime?” He shook his head sadly. “There's “fishy” crap happenin every second.”

“This is different, Monte. This could be dangerous.” He hesitated. “For everyone.” Monte looked at Kimber for a long moment. He knew the spotter better than almost anyone, and he knew when he was serious.

Straightening his back, he said, “Alright then, what’s up?” Kimber visibly relaxed. “I’m not entirely sure, but I saw something last night, and I think if I can find one of them, I’ll be able to figure it all out.” Monte motioned for him to continue. “There were three people. An older man from out of the city, he was talking with Lokvik.” Monte shrugged. “That's not unusual.” Kimber shook his head.

“No, but Lokvik was talking to him at the behest of Henry.” Monte raised an eyebrow. “Again, not unheard of. Come on, Kimber, get to what you mean.” He said as he poured a glass of golden liquid. Kimber gave a curt nod as he took it and sipped, enjoying the warm sensation.

“Look,” he said as he swirled the alcohol. Henry has made some sort of deal with someone, I don’t know who, but in return, he gets support—Or at least he will. I think Henry is plotting…” He hesitated. “What, Kimber?” Monte asked, leaning over the counter. “I think he’s planning to take over the city.”