The carriage car shook back and forth in rhythm as it passed through the streets of North Viemen. The driver was urging the horses onward in hopes of making it to the bridge as quickly as possible before the day’s light vanished. Inside the carriage car, Allan gripped tight to his briefcase so it wouldn’t fall to the floor. He tried his best to speak between the noise of the chassis and the sound of the wheels.

“Julian must be a fool. A trade route over land through that area would never be worth the cost of its own development.” He clutched the briefcase close, as the carriage leaned to one side. “The path would take you miles out of the way, just to run past Edge and up towards Auborn. Tedious! It would never work!”

“I agree with you.”

“Of course wealth is concentrated in the north! That is where our capital city is. It is where Gate City is! The south has nothing to offer us.” Allan shook his head. “How he ever managed to keep Viemen afloat, I will never know…”

“He’s hiding something, Allan.”

“You believe that everyone is hiding something, Zorren.”

“Because they always are. Julian is not that foolish. He must know that a southern trade route from Viemen to Auborn would be a waste of time. Which means he is planning something else…something he doesn’t wish us to know about.”

Allan leaned forward; his face was cold as stone.

“Then perhaps we should consider Frederick’s wishes?”

“Frederick’s motives are direct…” Zorren started. “Julian is unpredictable and is already proving himself to be difficult.”

“Exactly!” Allan cried. “We can’t trust Julian, but we can trust Frederick.”

“Not quite,” Zorren cut in. “Neither of them can be trusted. The real question is who will be useful.”

Allan thought to himself.

“In terms of resources, would Frederick not be the more obvious choice?”

“Strictly speaking, yes. Frederick has more to offer. However, Julian’s weakness is also his greatest strength. He is ambitious and creative. His utilization of the Iron Titans…is something I never would have expected.”

Allan snorted.

“Do you truly think a guild could be such a useful resource?”

“I would not have thought so, were it not for Julian.”

“More useful than nobility?”

Zorren’s eyes widened.

“Have I said something funny?” Allan asked.

Zorren grabbed his face; he was smiling.

He was excited.

The kind of excitement that comes from the birth of a new idea; an idea that ignites a blaze in the mind and burns away all other thoughts and doubt. He could feel the burdensome weight of uncertainty give way to clarity.

Allan maintained eye contact with Zorren, with neither saying a word. Allan was about to speak when he noticed something odd.

The carriage had stopped moving.

Zorren soon realized it as well. When Allan finally opened his mouth to speak, Zorren held up his hand to him; he then slowly reached his hand underneath his cloak. Allan heard a quiet snap muffled by the weight of cloth. Zorren then slid a dagger out of its sheath and brandished it openly.

They waited a few moments but heard no sounds from outside.

Zorren concentrated.

There was something strange about the silence. It wasn’t simply the absence of sound, but the presence of something else— a force which excluded all other things. Yet, there was something familiar about it.

Allan was breathing heavily to himself. His heart was beating quick, and beads of sweat were appearing on his brow. Then he winced and caught his breath— something had moved across his back. His hair stood up on end and he began to shake. Then, the feeling returned. Something was lying on him, moving towards his shoulder.

Allan was frozen in fear.

“Z-z…”

He tried to speak but could only whimper.

However, it was enough for Zorren to hear. And as he turned towards Allan, Zorren saw an amalgam of shadow protrude from behind Allan's back. It bulged onto his shoulder and pinched off from the darkness. Slowly, it warped and churned until it took on the shape of a black crow.

Zorren’s eyes widened.

“Caw!”

The crow let out a piercing wail that filled the. Allan jumped out of the seat and cried out in terror.

“ALLAN! DON’T—”

But Allan could not hear him. Even without the deafening cry, Allan would have been too terrified to listen. He swung his hands around aimlessly, then fell towards the carriage door. He pulled and tugged until it swung open and then he jumped out— letting out a gasp as he landed on the dirt.

“Agh!”

Allan rolled on the ground, gripping his left leg.

Zorren stabbed the dagger at the crow, cutting into it; but his knife passed through, as if through mist, and the form of the crow warped once again into shadow before disappearing. Zorren lunged for the door and jumped from the steps onto the ground, his dagger drawn.

“We are being watched, Allan.”

Allan was panting on the ground.

“Did you kill the damn thing, Zorren!?”

“It wasn’t real, Allan. It was sabbach…black magic.”

Zorren whipped his head around; they were surrounded on both sides by crop fields. The small dirt road wound through the fields of Viemen’s land, with barely enough space widthwise to allow for a full-size carriage. The road itself was set down a few feet from the fields, which were enclosed by a wooden fence. The sun was continuing to set, and the entire world was downcast in an orange glow.

“Get up,” Zorren ordered.

Allan grunted as he brought himself to his knee, moving incrementally until he was standing.

“Where are the men!?” Allan shouted as he looked around.

“My Lord!”

Allan turned to see one of his men jog out from around the other side of the carriage.

“There you are!” Allan shouted. “We are under attack! Search the—”

“Do not approach him, Allan!”

Allan nearly lost his breath as Zorren grabbed him from behind and pulled him away.

“Zorren! What are you doing!?”

“That is not one of our men…” Zorren said, glaring at the person standing before them.

The man’s head tilted to the left, as if he was unsure of what they had said. But as Allan watched in horror, the man’s head continued to turn, jerking unnaturally until they could hear the crunch and snap of his bones. Then the man’s skin began to melt off his face, dripping like thick bile. His mouth opened wide.

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Allan gagged and covered his mouth.

“Zorren…what—”

Then the man let out a high-pitched screech, the same as the crow from before. Allan and Zorren grabbed their ears; the unearthly sound sent chills running through them. Suddenly, the man’s body melted entirely into the ground and turned into a jet-black ooze. It began to bubble and twist and then spread out across the ground, encompassing the carriage and the horses. Zorren tried to move but he wasn’t quick enough— something heavy and cold had engulfed his feet. He turned to see that both he and Allan had been ensnared by the liquid darkness.

Zorren could feel the cold burning through his toes and rising up his legs. He gritted his teeth bitterly. Someone had been watching them since they had entered Rothwell’s mansion, maybe even sooner.

Sabbach can conjure animals to do their bidding, he thought. They can use them to spy and to eavesdrop.

Allan and Zorren continued to sink lower into the ooze. It ripped and pulled at their clothing— starving and ravenous.

But the creature wasn’t real? It was an apparition…and this darkness…I’ve never heard of anything like this.

Zorren could feel the cold, numbing sting rise up to his waist.

Unless…

Zorren closed his eyes and clasped his hands together. He steadied his breathing and cleared his mind. Then, Zorren reached under his cloak and gripped tight to the golden emblem that hung from his neck. He began to chant.

“Deceluanys pat’r Equinos, umilemque tuum faulum diriege. Incirtum, quo ant’m, tu candore discute. Osecro! Equinos!”

A great radiance spread out from Zorren; overtaking the rippling black and covering everything in a white light.

Allan cried out and covered his eyes. When he opened them again, he found himself standing on the dirt path. Allan looked around in shock.

Whatever had attacked them seemed now to have vanished.

Allan jumped at the sound of one of the horses as it snorted and stomped its hoof. He ran over to examine them and saw that the driver was slumped over in the carriage. He paused for a moment, fearing the man had been killed, but he soon saw the rise and fall of his chest. The man was merely asleep.

“The driver is alive, he’s just— ZORREN!”

Allan immediately ran over to him; he was collapsed on the ground and panting heavily.

“What’s wrong!?”

Zorren struggled to his knees with Allan’s help.

“I’m fine, Allan.”

He clearly wasn’t, but Allan did not press him.

“Whatever you did, you saved us.”

“We were never in danger, Allan.”

“What!? You saw that thing, whatever it was!”

“It was an illusion, Allan.”

“No…Zorren I felt it. It was real.”

Zorren shook his head.

“I was wrong, Allan. This is not sabbach, it’s illusion magic…very powerful illusion magic.”

Allan hardened his face.

“Then why do it? Why toy with us by playing tricks, when they could’ve killed us?”

“To send a message…”

Allan snorted.

“What kind of message!?”

“Hello!”

Allan froze.

Zorren spun around to the source of the voice.

Somehow, the man had made his way behind them, in the middle of the road, without making a sound. He was a lean man with sharp features, who wore dark colored clothing. He was almost entirely unremarkable, except for the glowing red gemstone that hung around his neck.

“All of this…” Zorren asked bitterly, “To say ‘hello’?”

The man shrugged.

“You nearly killed us!” Allan cried out, jumping to his feet.

The man looked at him with pity.

“If I had wanted you dead, you would be.”

Allan bit his tongue.

The man then flicked his eyes to Zorren.

“You are only partially correct,” he continued, “My intention was indeed to send a message.” He started walking toward Zorren as he continued. “But I also intended to gather information.”

Zorren became tense as the stranger approached him. He stopped in front of Zorren and held out his arm.

“It’s not a trick,” he offered.

Zorren reached out and grabbed the man’s arm. He pulled Zorren until he was standing upright. The man then stepped back from Zorren and observed them. After this, Allan quickly returned to Zorren’s side, and the two men faced off against the stranger.

“How long have you been watching us?”

“Since the tavern.”

Zorren gritted his teeth.

“You were watching us at Rothwell’s, then?”

The man nodded.

“Very interesting company you keep, Zorren Zalphineas XI, Chairman of the Omnirian Magistrate.”

“The crow?”

“Correct!” the man said, smiling. “Very astute. That was also about the time when I began suspecting you.”

Zorren frowned at his patronizing tone.

“How?”

“I am not used to being seen. Only certain…talented individuals are able to do so. No mere politician would be able to sense my presence. But a Luminarcan Caster? With the power of the Magistrate, no less!? Very interesting, indeed.”

Zorren laughed.

“So, this was a test?”

“And you have passed with high marks.”

Zorren hated being blindsided. He worked tirelessly to be certain that he held all the cards in any given situation. Even if he did not always have the advantage, he made great efforts to at least be sure he had leverage. But here, in front of this man, he was completely powerless. And they both knew it.

“Now that you have us here…what exactly is it that you want?”

The man’s playful aura dissipated, and his face hardened.

“I want to know what you offered him.”

Zorren and Allan shared a glance.

“Rothwell?” Allan asked.

“The Elfkin.”

“You don’t already know? Have you not been observing us since we set foot in the Lonely Song?”

The man’s face remained unrevealing.

“Oh…I see,” Zorren said. “You couldn’t risk getting too close to him, could you?”

“I knew I made the right choice. You are very observant,” the man said, clapping his hands. “Correct again. As I am now…I would lose to that man.” He put his hands on his hips. “But I am not worried.”

Zorren’s expression soured.

“And why is that?”

“Two of the most influential men in Omnirius? Skulking about the streets of Viemen, soliciting the help of powerful Elfkin mages? Surely, they are up to no good.”

Allan clenched his fist.

“Are you threatening to blackmail us?”

“Only if necessary. Rather, I think we can help each other. Any job good enough for a Lindhathal is one that I would be very interested in. Not only that, but I believe that you are desperate to see the job done. I propose that we work together.”

“We would never work with y—”

“What would you ask of us?”

“Zorren! Are you insane!?”

“You said it yourself, Allan. The plan must be seen through, otherwise we cannot move forward.”

The man smiled.

“As of now? I would ask nothing.”

“Nothing?” Zorren asked, with a look of growing suspicion. “You would ask for nothing?”

“Nothing yet,” he clarified. “I am to assume that necessities will be paid for. But as for personal compensation, there is nothing I need at this moment. Although…” The man tapped his chin curiously, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “A guarantee!”

“A guarantee of what?”

“A partnership,” he said, plainly. “I find Omnirius to be a very interesting place.” The man placed his arm across his stomach and bowed slightly. “Allow me to assist you with your plans. In exchange, I will see your task accomplished.”

Allan laughed.

“And why should we believe you!? You’ve already proved to be nothing more than a malicious trickster!”

The man straightened up. A look of sadness dawned over him.

“I suppose…that after all these years…there are few things left in this world that interest me.”

“Such lamentation! For one as young as you to say such a thing…” Allan shook his head.

“Young?” The man looked offended. “Ah, I see. I had forgotten…”

The gemstone around the man’s neck began to pulsate with a blood-red glow. Zorren and Allan watched as he placed his arm above his head and then slowly drew it down over his face. Behind his arm, they could see the man’s face begin to ripple and distort. When finally he drew his arm away, he was no longer the same man: his brown eye’s had become a dark crimson, his facial hair had disappeared, and on either side of his head were two pointed ears.

“You’re an alfkin?” Allan muttered in shock.

“What? Did you think Telhari was the only one?”

Allan stomped his foot.

“Now there is even less reason to trust you! Zorren we cannot allow him to—” Allan turned to Zorren for support but was stopped in his tracks. He had expected Zorren to be frustrated; but he was instead smiling— laughing. “Zorren?”

“Don’t you see, Allan?” Zorren laughed. “It would seem that fortune has favored us on this night. ”

Allan hobbled over to Zorren and grabbed his sleeve.

“Zorren! Tell me you aren’t thinking about agreeing to this!?”

“Allan…”

Zorren spoke Allan’s name, but his attention was focused on the elfkin standing in front of them. His eyes were wide with an intensity that burned brighter than Allan had ever seen.

“I think it is time for us to inform Lord Viemen that we will be accepting his terms.”