Irwyn walked with Waylan down the street in the early morning, though the sun was already relatively high up since it was the day right after Lumen’s solstice. In the end, Kalista and Rainer did not get chewed out badly, considering a near-death experience and significant reduction in possessions were a lesson enough for what was essentially an accident. Since they still endangered everyone though, they got the worst work for the day: Getting in touch with the aptly named Sewer rats.
The Tears had a bunch of allies and a few enemies in the slums. It’s been a while since they got involved in an open war; no one messed with them ever since they robbed the last gang so bad most members deserted and the rest literally lost the cloth off of their back and then got bashed in by other gangs paid in their own stolen coin. Most gangs also were not quite so low to go after kids. The long period of peace lead to alliances and those led to obligations. Such as telling their allies when a storm was heading their way. Since Irwyn did prevent their home from burning down, the duo got to choose where they would go, something Waylan was ecstatic about, though they would have probably ended up being chosen for this particular ally anyway.
“Do ya really need ta wear dat?” Waylan complained, pointing at the small badge attached to Irwyn’s collar. It had no adornment, just a single small quartz-like marble. “Can’t ya detect casters yourself?”
“I can feel casters, but we do not want them to know I am one.” Irwyn nodded and pointed at the piece of rock, “Also this thing might be more sensitive than I am. The Aspects know I have spent way too many hours training to not constantly trigger it while not even casting.” he explained.
“Just sayin’, others could use it,” Waylan shrugged. “Still haven’ done figurin’ how to make more, right? We barely got ‘nuff for everyone. And fuck, we could use more.”
“Language. Sadly no, enchantment still eludes me.” Irwyn grimaced, it was a very big stain on his pride. “Maybe I am missing some kind of tightly controlled reagent? The kind no one ever steals because they do not get transported out of magelord mansions. Or maybe it is some specific form of magic that does not appear in the final product. Or maybe it is the same problem I have with writing. I wish we could finally find An Introduction to enchanting, or some other book like that,” they talked as they reached their target.
The building they entered was actually at the very edge of the slums. Close enough that the folk who worked at the nearby manufactoriums would have little qualms about venturing here for business while they didn’t need to actually rely on the guards for protection, instead relying on a big gang, the Stars, that technically owned the territory, not too unlike the Tears Irwyn was part of. Their ventures were, after all, historically beneficial to be on good terms with.
Anyway, that is what Irwyn thought about to distract himself from the strong perfume permeating the brothel. The receptionist quickly ushered them to a table in the back when she recognised them and just a minute later they were welcomed.
“Way-way,” a figure burst into the room with an overjoyed giggle. She was a small lady of about 20 years and thankfully had the decency to at least cover her otherwise revealing clothing with a shawl.
“Hey sis!” Waylan exclaimed with a grin, “Slow day?”
“Turf war just started,” she shrugged “Most regulars got called into action and the folk from outside don’t come here durin’ the day.”
“You will have time to catch up later,” Irwyn fake coughed. “We are here for a serious matter today, could you please call down the Madame, Meilin? It’s urgent.”
“Ok. Teres, go call Mama, Tears here on important business,” she called to one of the two younger women who had entered with her. Teres nodded and immediately left.
“Is it bad?” Meilin asked, taking a seat next to Waylan.
“About as bad as it gets.” Irwyn nodded grimly, “Old Sparrow broke the third.”
“Fuck me,” Meilin cursed. “He dead then?” she got two nods. “They might not come for us but you are in deep shit, birds of ladder and whatnot.”
“You don’t say,” Waylan half-chuckled while Irwyn suppressed a cringe at the butchered idiom. The things you live to regret teaching.
“We do not know what exactly he tried to steal,” Irwyn sighed. “Maybe the fallout will not be catastrophic.”
“Anything to drink?” at this point the last girl in the room leaned towards Irwyn. Unlike Meilin, she did not even attempt to cover herself up in a blatant attempt at simplistic seduction. To which Irwyn responded with a deadpan face, staring directly into her eyes and a ‘no thank you.’
“If he were dis easy to crack…” Waylan laughed while his sister giggled as well. “...There wouldn’ be a bloodey bounty on takin’ his ass.”
“A bounty?” the girl just looked baffled.
“Yep, yep,” Meiling nodded. “That’s why the Old Crow sends him here with Way-Way, no amount of threatened good time makes him give us a fairer deal,” she jokingly pouted.
“Either Irw or the lovebirds,” Waylan nodded, “Since they only see each other. Speaking of dem, you wouldn’ fuckin’ believe what happened last night…” Waylan was about to start retelling the story, no doubt with a couple exaggerations in every sentence and significantly more swearing, when the door swung open, an older lady entering.
The Madame was around 40 as far as Irwyn knew but she looked a lot younger. Skilfully applied makeup hid any wrinkles and exceptional care maintained her skin’s luster. Probably. Irwyn had read a book but he had no experience as a beautician.
Her reaction to the news was a mix of shock and wariness but she didn’t doubt the truthfulness. No one would make this kind of thing up to their allies and Aaron had a reputation as a source as well as a direct working relationship with establishments such as theirs in the area. It happened when they finished giving out the information and while Irwyn’s less and less subtle hints they should leave were being ignored by Waylan. There was a subtle shift in magic. A presence. 2 actually.
Looking down at the stone that is supposed to detect exactly this kind of thing, it was dark and dead. In a split moment Irwyn made a decision and as subtly as he could released the slightest smidgen of mana to trigger the gem. Its slight but piercing glow instantenously caught by the people around Irwyn.
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“Please tell me that ain’t ain’t what I think it is.” Meilin paled.
“Waylan, take your sister to the cellar and do not come out until I give you the signal,” Irwyn immediately shot Waylan a glance who, without hesitation grabbed Meilin and took her away. “Madame, we must prepare for guests. And fast. Or a guest at least.”
“Meilin, get the good wine from my stash. Teres, go warn the front and then get the bottle. Then leave us alone.” the Madame sighed with tiredness and trepilation.
“What is the plan?” Irwyn remained seated.
“I don’t damn know? Politely ask them to not kill us?”
“It has been a decade since Ebon Respite last caused trouble for the Blackburgs. The retaliation might not be too bad,” Irwyn tried to be reassuring even if he did not believe his words.
“Or they make sure it’s gonna be another before someone else dares,” she instead also realised the possibility that had been giving Irwyn’s heart a serious workout. He did not remember the last time the Blackburgs were crossed but the Old Crow definitely did. His reaction spoke volumes. When the oldest Fowl in the region gets nervous you might as well bloody panic.
The two of them sat in silence as Irwyn felt the 2 presences approach. As they grew closer Irwyn felt his heartbeat spike, his hand shook and logic receded. He never noticed the wine being brought in and poured. Nor that the gem was now glowing on its own. All his attention was at the approaching auras. Drawing ever closer.
Two men stepped through the backroom door. Both clad in neat black cloaks, far better make than anyone would usually dare wear openly around the slums. Same went for the rest of the clothing underneath them. The two did not hide their faces so Irwyn could also tell that except their clothes they were nothing alike. One was an elder, perhaps as old as the Old Crow, while the other was younger, possibly below 30, and full of vigor. The old man was reserved and controlled, letting nothing slip past his facade while his partner was radiating anticipation and hostility. Not good, Irwyn thought. Because neither of them would likely be possible to convince with words, no matter what their intentions were.
“Good morning to you, fine gentleman,” the Madame put on a strained smile, gesturing to the two seats. “What might you be looking for?”
“They saw us coming, is that a provocation, Calm?” the younger of the two immediately turned towards his elder and Irwyn felt his heart immediately jump into his throat.
“Look at the situation first, Rage,” the older spoke in accordence with his… Nickname? Monicker? “See the quartz on the young lad’s coat? Clearly a lesser magical item capable of detecting mana. You have failed to properly restrain your presence. Again.”
“Is that how it is?” Rage shot Irwyn a murderous glance, which was not a great start, though the pecking order between the 2 Blackburgs was made blatant.
“Good morning to you as well,” Calm ignored his partner and sat down at the prepared seat. “It seems a certain unpleasantness has come upon this fine town recently. Though from your stiff expressions I do not need to explain.”
“You call this wine?” Rage also sat down, taking a single sip and spitting it back into the cup. “Is this a provocation, Calm?”
“Think about the sitation first, Rage,” Calm shook his head. “Consider where we are. Being offered something to drink is already better than can be expected.”
“I hate to interupt you, fine gentlemen,” Irwyn bowed slightly in supplication. “May we inquire as to what may be your inclination on this fine visit?” he tried to be polite and speak like what he imagined people in high circles might.
“Look at that, Calm!” Rage burst out laughing. “The whoreson thinks himself eloquent! Is that a provocation?”
“Now, now, Rage. Look at his armband. He is not a whoreson but a thief,” Calm maintained completely impassive expression as Irwyn felt a hint of anger at the complete disregard of his self.
“Look at that grimace, Calm!” Rage stood from his chair like cold water poured down Irwyn’s back. “Look at that mounting rage.” he took his glass, still full, looked at it for a moment and then threw it straight at Irwyn’s face. Irwyn barely dodged out of the way, some of the wine splashing on his face and clothes while the nice glass shattered at the far end.
“He dodged. Is that provocation, Calm?”
“Sit down, Rage. You will follow the orders we have been given.” For the first time, Irwyn realised, the old man looked away from them to stare Rage down. There was no change in expression, no hint of malice or anger, but Rage immediately followed the order, seemingly mellowing down. “I sincerely apologise for my partner here. Young and burning with too much passion. Bloodthirsty with no foresight. As to our business, it is, of course, retaliation.” At which point Calm reached into his coat, withdrawing a slick-looking pitch black box.
“What would you have us do?” the Madame asked mirroring Irwyn’s trepidation.
“Nothing too unreasonable considering your relation to the offence given,” Calm nodded his head, giving the two of them some hope. “Please, fill this box with 5 eyes of the personnel of this establishment by tomorrow.”
Irwyn’s mind halted. So did the Madame’s clearly as they did not respond.
“They are not responding. Is that a provocation, Calm?”
“We have delivered what we came here for, Rage.”
“What about the thief?” Rage’s sight traced Irwyn with malevolence once again.
“You cannot just kill every thief you see, Rage. What would people do when they need something clandestinely stolen in the future? Moreover, he is not on our list.”
“Lucky you, huh,” Rage stood up again, taking a long step around the table and half leaning towards Irwyn for a loud whisper: “Better pray you are not on someone else’s.”
“That will be all,” Calm stood up, taking a sip from the wine and for the first time his expression changed; he ever so slightly cringed.
“You are forgetting one thing, Calm,” Rage walked back to his partner, giving him what was clearly some sort of handsign, though none of the kind Irwyn knew.
“Ah, Yes. You are right. Great offense was given, after all.” At that, Rage’s face twisted into a horrifying smile and Irwyn felt his presence shift. The controlled shell ruptured revealing beneath what should have been obvious as the man spoke:
"Run forever,
However,
None may avoid
Maw of the void"
Irwyn felt the magic take place with each syllable. The black impresence of the void assembled in a beautifully terrifying form of a beast grafted from runes. It was gluttony and wrath, a jaw of magic begging to be unleashed. To devour flesh or stone. Magic given will. Could Irwyn do something like that? He couldn’t even imagine how he would resist an attack of this sort. It was completely different from his magic. Rather than the tight control he had spent his life improving it was wild yet so much more powerful. Even more importantly, even if he could resist it, could he get away with directly offending agents of house Blackburg?
Then the spell leapt, like a hound let off its leash. It was so fast Irwyn did not even realise what had happened before it flew past him, striking through the door leading uptairs. The scream of the eavesdropper followed right after before it was silenced with a sickening crunch. Irwyn froze, still staring at Rage with wide eyes.
“As per our order, 5 eyes and one head,” Calm nodded. “We will not require the head physically. I hope you will excuse my tardiness. As you can imagine, our workload has been significant. If you would, enjoy the rest of your morning and see you tomorrow.” Then he stood up and left along with Rage. But Irwyn did not react to that. Nor to the shouts and shrieks from behind him. His eye were still staring at that spot where that terrifying man had stood. Slowly, so painfully slowly, he turned around; saw the blood and gore. And well…
Joined the cacophony of screams.