A boy was sitting with his father on a small pier in front of a cozy pond in the middle of the forest. Their impromptu fishing rods next to them were calm. Father held his son's hand and was methodically applying a tattoo with a glittery golden ink. The boy was pursing his lips and tears would come out of his eyes, but he made no sound. The rune felt like an eternity to draw, but when it was finished the father wiped the bloody skin with a napkin, and stood up. "I will be fine in a few minutes, don't heal the wound with magic, it has to recover naturally".

After the father left the vicinity, the boy closed his eyes shut and started to cry, it was painful. Why does he even need this type of magic if he can just say the words and the same magic will happen?

When he opened his eyes, it was as if it was winter. The pond was frozen and the trees around were slightly covered in ice. The air was soothing cold, the hand wasn't hurting anymore.

___

In the early spring dawn, it was still chilly. Vagabond entertainers rarely welcomed the sunrise, especially mere hours after their performances ended and they'd sought refuge in the stables' piles of hay. But the promise of good pay for loading work was too good to pass up.

Ledas, the magician among them, was an early riser, chilly nights meant nightmares would visit often. He leaned against the external chimney wall protruding into the stables, sipping warm water infused with mint leaves. His pale skin slowly regained its color as he loudly yawned towards his sleeping friends. "Girls, it's time to wake up. Two silver drahms are two more than we have now," he announced. Notably, there were no girls in their troupe.

The two identical, redheaded twin brothers Finn and Flynn, about fifteen winters old, woke up shivering and quickly dressed under their shared blanket. "Ledas, please make a fire," they implored, only to see him purse his lips.

"Not in the stables. There’s too much hay, and I'd rather not flee the city for accidental arson. Grab some warm water instead," he sighed as he directed them towards the chimney where he had prepared warm water in tin cups.

"But the gates are close, we can make the run" - joked Arty.

"And the gates are closed for another hour, quit messing around" - Olaf was the fun killer from the early dawn.

A few minutes later, the group trudged through the mostly sleeping cobblestone streets of Tigranakert. Finn and Flynn, were lagging behind from time to time, their eyes scanning the shopkeepers setting up their stalls.

"Listen up, you two," Olaf's deep voice commanded authority, making the twins straighten up and close the gap. "Today we are moving stuff for mages, so don’t act stupid" Before the twins could respond with their usual dismissive remarks, Olaf silenced them with an imposing glare.

"Mages don’t tolerate thieves, spies or idiots. If you do something stupid they will use their magics, and you are done. Keep your hands to yourself, heads down and ears closed. Cause I ain’t gonna get a chance to save your asses" he warned gravely.

The twins swallowed hard, saying in unison, "We promise." Arty and Ledas nodded in agreement. Though they had no history of stealing, curiosity was one of their vices.

Arty caught up from that moment "From what I have heard they are not in the best mood, so it’s a good chance to show some extreme subservience, maybe they will tip generously. What is an extra silver coin to someone who gets paid in gold?"

Today's task was quite normal: load heavy things onto carriages. The context and pay were not: The Mages Guild branch in Tigranakert was leaving after some political clash regarding taxation, and as gossip claimed, romance and intrigue. The court wizard of King Arshakion and most non-battle mages were either leaving or no longer willing to provide services in a place which is under sanctions by the International Mages Guild.

This morning, Olaf's handymen had to move things from the guild to the carriages for a nice pay of two silver drahms - enough for the band not to worry for a week if performances didn't gather attention or rain deterred potential viewers.

…

The Mages Guild was a three-storied stone building made of volcanic tuff with an attached tower. A group of four mages in blue guild robes stood near the entrance, smoking from crooked pipes and organizing the loading.

"Are you the hired hands?" A young woman in an apprentice robe asked the group.

"Yes, sire, glad to serve!" Olaf made a deep bow as if to a noble, with the others quickly following suit. Good impressions often left good tips.

A middle-aged gray-haired man in High-Journeyman's robes tilted his head in a bit creepy manner. "Are you the vagabonds performing on the streets this whole week? I think I saw those tween redheads a couple of days ago."

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The band members nodded. "Whatever, get to work," the Journeyman quickly instructed them what to move, and what areas should be loaded by which group of workers to what carriages.

The guild rooms were decorated with exquisite dark wood furniture, beautiful paintings, arcane magical apparatus, and shelves lined with ancient tomes the mages handled themselves.

Aside from being exquisite, the furniture barely fit through any doors, so it took until noon to empty the third floor.

Olaf decided on a group break outside as the sun warmed the air and sweat dripped from their faces. Ledas never got hot and sweaty, so he scanned the line of carriages, looking for targets to gain additional income. One stood out among the thirty or so mages gathered before the guildhall. After donning a performer's coat, he approached a young apprentice in expensive shoes and a pocket watch - a deep pocket!

The target constantly fidgeted, not paying attention to his surroundings, longingly looking at the guildhall. Ledas prepared cards in hidden sleeve compartments, separating three into another hand. "Good sir, would you like to know your future?" Before the apprentice could react, Tarot Cards appeared as if from nowhere, leaping from one of the magician's hands to the other. "The cards hold mysteries and guidance. For a small contribution, they can offer you a glimpse into the path ahead or the answers you seek."

Such a bold approach sometimes worked on those not in a good mindset. Seconds later, the apprentice pulled cards from the stack before discussing the price - the best outcome.

Ledas glided his hand over the cards, opening them one by one with a mysterious look while focusing on the smallest details and the apprentice's expressions.

"Self - this card represents you." A Magician card opened face down. "You are suffocating your ability to solve the problems surrounding you." The Magician continued, "The situation is the Wheel of Fortune reversed - you feel at the down point of this life cycle, but things will go up from here, which is good. Lastly, the Challenge on your path - the Temperance card, meaning you will challenge yourself and temper the steel inside to purify your mind and free yourself from doubt."

The rich apprentice's journey into the arcane had barely scratched the surface of mystery. His eyes flickered with a tumult of emotions, reflecting the cards as he gazed upon them. His focus fell on the Magician card. Was he truly choking his abilities? Suddenly, ideas he had pushed away as dangerous or too daring rushed into his mind - possibilities he was afraid to consider. He looked at the Wheel and felt he was truly at a down point, having to move away from home due to this turmoil if he wanted to continue his education. He imagined the path ahead and knew that to become a journeyman, he would have to show temperance from now on.

As thoughts rushed through the apprentice's mind, he took a coin from his pouch and passed it towards the magician without looking. Ledas returned to his band around the corner, took off the performance coat, and tossed a whole silver drahm to the big brother Olaf. The strongman caught the flying object mid-air, his eyes widening. "Damn, these mages are rich!" he whispered, not daring to be too loud.

"Even the rich just want to hear that everything will be fine. This kid was an easy read," Ledas bragged. It was rare he got his hands on someone so vulnerable and wealthy simultaneously.

The team moved back to work on the second floor as a Mage with purple robes lined with gold walked through the corridor. His white hair and wrinkled, pale face bore a gentle smile; the old man was somewhere in his thoughts, which couldn't have been bad ones.

Ledas felt his heartbeat rush as he instinctively sensed the dangerous presence calmly enjoying his own thoughts. The space itself belonged to the mage, his authority unmasked.

The magician breathed slowly to calm himself. His teammates couldn't sense that, so why should he care?

The court mage spoke with some guild members and glanced over the handymen moving a sofa toward the ladder. His eyes lit up for a split second, making all nearby mages tense up as if a wave of unease moved through them. As their eyes met across the corridor, he felt a wave of magic push through him - the court wizard's golden eyes were gazing, probing, scanning as if looking at every secret Ledas ever had.

It was as if he were naked, exposed to the prying eyes, and cold, screaming internally but keeping it inside. His muscles tensed and breathing halted. The only thing he heard was his heart pounding in his chest.

The mage looked for a couple of seconds, but it felt like an eternity. As his gaze left, the Magician's fingers slipped, and one side of the sofa dropped on his foot with a loud thud, drawing everyone's attention.

"Careful! You all right, mate?" Olaf looked at his distressed companion, frozen and not noticing the sofa leg fall on him.

He stood there, frozen. Fear had completely overtaken him. The court mage returned his attention to the porters, his eyes subtly lighting up with magic, hand raising as if aiming to cast a spell.

"JUMP!" Ledas shouted in panic, foreseeing the danger his band didn't comprehend. They had never encountered a battle mage.

Arty, holding the sofa's middle, threw his hand out in an attempt to catch his friend, who had acted insane all of a sudden - but it was too unexpected.

Ledas tried to safely roll on the ladders, but they weren't conducive to that. After the first painful roll, he just grabbed his head and continued falling, hitting the stairs and wall until reaching the ground. He tried standing up, limping hard, only to find a few mages aiming their staves at him.

"Slumber deep, night's embrace, yield." The incantation was swiftly read by one of the masters, and the world around Ledas turned dim, warm, and safe as he drifted into unconsciousness.