The brats did not impress Cyril. They didn’t surprise him either. The grungy redhead tried to hide it, but keeping pace was already hurting her. The rich boy and the princess lagged further behind, sweating through their clothes. He hadn’t even made it halfway to their destination, but if he pushed the group any further, they might break down completely.

Their run had brought the group to an old mining quarry. Lyrique was first founded as a town of two industries, a mining district and the port towards the coastline. But, when the silver veins ran dry quickly, the population moved back towards the docks, seeking work there. The quarries and the empty homes further out were the last remnants of civilization before the city limit.

Caves scattered across the cliffs and hills. There were no great mountains in Lyrique. Stone mined out from the earth lay in sizeable heaps across the quarry. Masons would sometimes borrow from the stockpile for new projects in the city proper, but the location was otherwise abandoned.

“There’s a river up here,” he announced to the kids. The quarry was built next to the riverbed flowing out towards the sea. One could follow the water right back to the main docks of the city, or travel back the dirt roads towards Gwyllion Abbey. A watermill used to lay in the deep river, but the wheel had been lost in Cyril’s absence. He stopped running and wondered what someone could have done with a big thing like that.

The redhead showed up next to him. She took short breaths and looked behind her. The other two weren’t long to arrive. When they did, Cyril realized the boy had been sandbagging, running slower to keep pace with the other girl, the one with the big nose and the baggy pants.

He stripped his coat off and sat against a rock, watching the three suck wind.

“I never did catch your names,” Cyril said.

“Wakahn Detagawa,” the boy said. “Son of Nakamo Detagawa.” Was Cyril supposed to know who that was? He kept quiet about it. If he introduced his father he was probably quite important. Cyril would have to ask the old man about it later.

“Soraya… Hadessian…” she was barely able to get that out before throwing up into the river. Wakahn immediately went to her side. Cyril cringed and watched the bile float out into the sea.

The redhead laughed sadistically. “I’m Piper. Is it true you were a Silver Dragon?”

They had already heard of him. Cyril nodded. “I was.”

Piper grinned. “Is it true you were fired?”

That question caught the attention of the other two. Cyril had to be a little careful. Answering the question wrong might mean losing authority over the little trio. He’d be damned before he gave Xin the satisfaction of losing the guild clients.

“You each can have one personal question,” Cyril conceded. “If you manage to show up for training tomorrow, you can have another.” He set his sights on Piper. “Sure that’s what you wanna ask?”

The girl quickly changed her mind. “What do you know about the Iron Lodge?”

Cyril’s face tightened. “What do you know about the Iron Lodge?”

“You said I get to ask you a question. You’re not gonna answer?”

Cyril weighed both questions Piper had asked. Between them, this was probably the safer line of interrogation. “The Iron Lodge is an illicit guild that operates on the Western Continent. They employ wardens, gwyll tamers and killers to carry out their own brand of underground jobs. They have the most wanted sorcerers of any illicit guild on the continent and their boss is a globally accepted Rank S target meriting three million notes for his capture, dead or alive.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

With every word of description, Cyril watched Piper’s face grow darker. Her fingers clenched together until her knuckles turned white. Just learning about them roused deep-set turmoil in the girl’s soul. Cyril could even sense her emotional energy swelling.

“Have you ever killed one of their members?” Piper asked.

“I’ve killed nine Iron Lodge agents,” Cyril answered. “Across separate assignments. Not that you asked, but I’ve captured more than that alive.”

The conversation had darkened the mood. But, it also seemed to drown out the feelings of exhaustion for the group. Cyril turned to the other two, nodding. Inviting them to satiate their own curiosities.

“Is it true you used to work for Gwyllion Abbey?” Wakahn asked.

“That’s right,” Cyril answered.

“Why’d you leave?”

“I said you get one question,” Cyril protested.

Wakahn swung his arm dangerously close to Piper. She still seethed and Cyril really wondered if she might bite his fingers clean off his hand. “She asked two,” Wakahn said.

“Fine. I left because the SDO pays far, far more than the abbey ever did. And I think I thought the work was important.”

Wakahn’s response was cryptic. Cyril suddenly realized the boy was measuring him. Perhaps considering if Cyril was the right man to be his instructor. He almost admired the boy’s arrogance.

“And you, Soraya Hadessian?” Cyril asked. A little color had returned to her cheeks. “Feeling better?” He felt a little guilty about the girl throwing up her breakfast. He assumed the kids had at least got some training, but this might have been the most the teenager had ever moved in her life. If she was from a really wealthy family, the idea of work might be completely alien to her.

The girl nodded. She fished around in the pocket of her oversized trousers for something. She retrieved a small leather bound tome. Only a few pages were in the pocketbook, but a hand seam concealed a twig of charcoal to write with.

“What’s the best place you’ve ever been?” she asked.

Cyril flinched at the question. It was one he had never seriously considered. All of the great locales and delicacies he’d sampled in his career swam in his mind like brief glimpses into being that person again. Into living that life again. He missed it. In a way he hadn’t quite let himself yet. The rage over his job had consumed him too fully to think it fondly.

“...Raqarw. Deep in the northern heart of the Eastern continent. I think… the best coffee I’ve ever had in my entire life. Definitely the best sunsets.”

Soraya used her second question to ask Cyril how to spell the name of the city. She also thanked him.

Peace fell over the four. Like a sleepiness that you only notice until after you’ve enjoyed its rest. Inconspicuous and welcome. The old man of the group remembered playing in the quarries when he was a kid. He remembered promising to become a warden with his sister in the dark caves. He told her there was magic in the world and he wanted to know what it would feel like to be a part of it. He warned her there were dangers in the world and he wanted to be one to stop them.

Cyril wanted to know the kids better.

“Why do you all want to be a warden?”

He said the words, but wasn’t looking at anyone in particular. So no one answered. He nodded at Wakahn. “‘Son of Nakamo Degatawa.’”

Wakahn looked at the two girls on either side of him. And then at Cyril again. “I want to chart the Age of Man.”

“‘The Age of Man’…” Cyril repeated the words back to him. As he had his introduction. “I don’t exactly know what I’ll be teaching you. But, I know what any good warden should know. If you’d like to catch your breath, I offer you two stories for the price of one. The story of the first wardens of how the Age of Man began. What do ya say?”

Wakahn deferred to Soraya. Piper had leaned back on her hands. The anger had simmered but not fully cooled. Soraya hid her face, but nodded. Wakahn agreed aloud.

“Once upon a time…”