Dalkir strode along one of the many suspended walkways connecting the labyrinth of Le-Shade. The sound of heavy footfalls on wood caught his attention, breaking through the constant hum of the pedestrians shuffling.

"Dalkir!" A soft voice called from behind the crowd.

He recognised it instantly, and turned to face its source. The pedestrians parted around the imposing warrior, letting him see his second in command.

"You walk like you're trying to get away from something," Sarah complained, clutching her knees while she tried to catch her breath.

"You don't spend enough time on your feet," he chastised, scuffling her hair.

"I don't need to," she snapped, slapping his hand away. "Where are you going?" She asked, now bouncing a little. "I saw you fly in."

"I thought you were helping mend the sails on the Black Bird," he asked curiously, gesturing for her to walk with him.

"I got Ted to do it. He got in not too long after you with a big smile on his face. I figured he was free."

Dalkir chuckled, and shook his head. "I suppose he was."

"So where are we going?" She asked, prodding his arm with her flute.

"I suppose that means you're coming with me?" He asked with a smirk. "We have an important meeting to attend, with Seldamie Bella."

He let the last part hang in the air for a moment, giving her time to take it in.

"The blooded?" She gasped when she realised. "What did you do? Should we let the others know?" She frantically questioned.

"I didn't do anything wrong," he laughed. "I think."

Her eyes went wide. "So you’re getting a promotion then?"

"Probably not," he said, waving a hand.

"Am I getting a promotion then?" She asked, looking confused.

He stopped, and put his hand on her shoulder. "Probably not, little wren," he said mournfully. "We need to find you an O'jin before they'll consider that."

She made a noise of disgust, and rolled her eyes. "I make the other mages look like children. It hardly seems fair."

"Those other mages don't have to worry about Warlock sickness. Imagine what it would take to bring down a crazy Sarah?" He said with a friendly smile.

She thought it over for a moment, then nodded. "That would be difficult. I'm terrifying at the best of times."

"See, you get it," he laughed. "We'll solve that problem soon enough, I promise you that."

She beamed at him, and gestured for him to keep walking.

Dalkir had been travelling with Sarah for the past five years. They met on a ship bound for Son-Gonkiruun, and found themselves in enough trouble along the way to keep them close. She was a different person now compared to when they first met. The young girl was growing into a young woman faster than he knew what to do with. He never had siblings growing up, so adopting her as his own family was a natural progression. His place in the clan wouldn't be half as prestigious as it was without his little wren.

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They made their way along the catwalk. Dalkir entertained her with the story of his latest tournament victory. It was in times like this that he truly enjoyed his life. It wasn’t the relative peace of the city, but the company he kept while he was there. Too many of their missions had him separated from his friends and the men under his command. He was determined to enjoy every moment he spent with them. Being the Raven Cloak of Le-Shade, he struck an intimidating aesthetic into the eyes of those around him. His people were the only ones he could truly trust, since he was confident their encounters weren't ruled by fear.

Their destination was a small shop selling soaps. It was the same place he always met with his superiors, since his particular line of work was best kept from public scrutiny. They stepped in to be assaulted by a mix of potent aromas, making Sarah cover her mouth as always. For his part, Dalkir kept a straight face, less he'd satisfy the cruel humour of the shopkeeper.

"Ah, Raven Cloak, what can I help you with today?" The rat faced attendant said through a yellowed smile.

"Two bars of the lilac," Dalkir responded, waving his hand to hurry the interaction along.

The shop keeper was an off-putting man. Taken from the docks of Le-Shade specifically for this purpose. He wore a circlet around his head that was enchanted to keep him subservient. Another slave, which usually made the warrior sympathetic. Freedahr of Le-Shade was a criminal slave however, and Dalkir was all too aware of how the mongrel earned his sentence.

The lilac soap wasn't an actual purchase, but a code instead. So long as Freedahr didn't insist on dragging the interaction out, he would slip through the door behind the counter and be done with the man.

"And for you?" Freedahr asked Sarah with an uncomfortably intense gaze.

"She doesn't need anything," Dalkir said, stepping in front of her. "Can we hurry this up. I can still smell you over the soap, and I'd like to get away from that."

"You never have time for old friends, do you Raven?" Freedahr chuckled.

"I have plenty of time for old friends," Dalkir said, walking past the man. "I just don't like to stop and talk to the worms."

He pulled a key card from the air, and ran it through the seam between the door and its frame. Holding the door open for Sarah, Dalkir stared ominously at the shopkeeper. "Until next time ronta," he said snidely. "But hopefully someone has retired you by then."

With his final stinging insult, the door slammed shut behind them.

A long hall stretched before them. It was lined with the same kind of doors that were always found in the hotel. The numbers started at 90D, that being the door he came through. He counted until he got to 98D, and took in a deep breath.

"Let's see how this goes," he said to Sarah with his bravest voice. Rather than swipe his card, he simply opened the door, revealing the room on the other side.

The windowless room was illuminated by a red candle floating a few feet below the tall ceiling. It gave off no smoke, and dripped no wax. Below the enchanted candle, sat a tall throne made of blackened crystal, and atop the throne sat a rag clad woman with a birds nest of hair. Her hands and neck were decorated by deep purple veins, a tell tale sign of a high ranking Bella. She raised her hand slowly, letting flakes of dried mud break free of her skin and coat the floor in a grey dust. Slowly, she pulled her fingers inwards, bringing the warrior and his mage sliding gently into the room.

Sarah jumped when the door slammed heavily behind them, prompting a cackle from the witch.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Dalkir the Raven Cloak," she said with a deep and crackling voice.

"The pleasure is all mine," he said in as dignified a tone as he could muster. He leant down to take a bow, and nudged Sarah to do the same. His mage listened quickly, and presented the witch with a curtsey.

The witch cackled again. "How very polite," she laughed. "You’re as much a gentleman as they say."

"I'm honoured," he replied, though mostly false.

"We'll see," she giggled. "I wonder how much of a gentleman you'll be after I'm through with you," she said, looking him up and down.

"I'll follow your orders Madam Seldamie, you have my word," he responded formally. There weren't many times that Dalkir found himself scared. This was one of those rare times.

"We'll see," she cackled. "I have a job for you, bird boy," she said, leaning in to see his eyes more clearly.

"I'll have it done," he confirmed with a fist against his chest.

"I'd hope so," she barked. "This is your test Raven Cloak."

She held a black crystal in front of her, and the red light of the flame glistened against its carefully cut surfaces. "It's time for you to earn your place amongst the Bellatores."