Alfie pushed his way through the people thronging the cobbled thoroughfare. Such was the level of jostling and shuffling that no one appeared to care about him pushing roughly by as he sought vainly for a quiet space where he could get his head on straight.

The scents and sounds were not so different from the ones he would come across in any of London’s other smorgasbord of markets—exotic spices, herbs, and incense mixed together with various frying foods, created a heady aroma—but the sights…

Suffice it to say that even the most hard-boiled cynic of all things fantastic, eldritch, and otherworldly would have found it impossible to deny the existence of magic in the Ignotus Market.

The atmosphere was electric, with the sounds of haggling and laughter filling the air. Due to the gloomy weather, many of the cheaper, smaller tents and stalls were lit by a mix of candles and glowing multi-colored lanterns. These cast a warm, colorful ambiance over the varied wares, produce, and items as they drifted and bobbed around the stall interiors like absurd bubbles.

The farther into the Ignotus Market that Alfie ventured, the more and more it reminded him of some sort of bazaar. The stalls and tents of this occult souk were filled with all sorts of strange and wondrous goods.

Alfie’s eyes took in stalls and merchants selling potions and elixirs, more barrowmen flogging enchanted jewelry and weaponry—which, to Alfie’s knowing eye, had the distinct look of gear that had fallen off the back of a broomstick—and shadowy figures beckoning select customers through their tent flaps. There were rare magical artifacts being displayed in a few of the more established-looking shops, with broad, placid-faced men standing casually on either side of the door or tent opening, ready to do brisk and efficient violence to anyone intending to make trouble.

As Alfie wandered aimlessly through the teeming shops and booths, ducking through kiosks and turning randomly down the little lanes that bisected the main thoroughfare, he saw a stall selling rare and unusual plants, another exhibiting all sorts of sparkling trinkets displayed behind rose-tinted glass, and yet another with a selection of what he assumed must be enchanted clothing—there were a pair of trousers swanking around the shop on their own, trying to sell themselves.

He strode past a man arguing with a uniformed woman and gesticulating hotly to a levitating rug that she was busy chaining to a lamppost.

“You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? I was only parked for five minutes while I dropped off a load of mummified heads!” he howled.

Alfie found he was repeating the words ‘holy crap’ as a sort of mantra with each new and incredible thing he saw. As he passed one alleyway, he was sure that he caught a glimpse of a choir of mermaids performing a mesmerizing song and splashy dance in a fountain. He supposed this meant that he must have looped around on himself and ended up near the canal again.

I wouldn’t bank on that, his brain told him. It appears this place doesn’t hold much store by logic or adhere to such puny laws as those of physics.

He marched smartly past a long, open-sided structure of canvas, wood, and stone, which looked to be a tavern or drinking establishment. A sign daubed in white paint said the street was named The Canary. Garrulous laughter spilled out of it as Alfie passed by. This was followed by an urgent voice raised up over the general din emanating from the watering hole.

“I ruddy well swear on my old mam, Watkins, the whole place has been leveled! Flattened.”

“Rubbish,” replied another voice, steeped in beer. “There ain’t nobody who can go around blowing up a place like Wissenberg. Who’d be wanderin’ about in the Black Forest like that, eh? Don’t be daft!”

“I’m telling you—”

“Bah! Someone’s been pulling your leg, lad.”

“I’m afraid Ewing is right, Watkins,” another, more sure and steady voice said, its words carried out of the crowd of smoke-wreathed drinkers on a rolling chariot of authority. “The place looks to have been utterly destroyed. Not a single survivor. What do you think those government posters are about?”

“Ah, them buggers in government wouldn’t know their asses from their eyebrows at the best of times, Winterbrow,” the voice of the invisible Watkins said, though Alfie thought it was tinged with just a soupcon of doubt now. “If you want my take on it…”

But Alfie didn’t wait to hear Watkins’ take on whatever it was the men were talking about. He moved on and paused in the mouth of an empty stall, which looked to be a supplier of nothing but china tea sets.

He puffed out his cheeks. “Okay, so apparently the last twenty-four hours haven’t been some crazy dream.”

There could be no denying it. Now that he had seen it, Alfie realized that he had absolutely no compunction to deny it. Why would he have wanted to? The Ignotus Market was obviously a place where anything was possible, where you could find almost anything you might be looking for, no matter how strange or unusual it might seem. It was a place of wonder and witchcraft, where the impossible became possible, and anything could happen.

“’Ere, guv, you gotta light?”

Alfie felt a tugging on his sleeve. He turned quickly and found himself nose to wrinkled forehead with a person who, despite his having one head and a pair of arms and legs, didn’t quite come across as human.

Perhaps, Alfie thought, it’s because his ears are the same size as my hands. Or, maybe, it’s the purple eyes.

The figure was dressed in a stained hoodie whose original color might have been gray, jeans that were about eight times too long for it, and what looked like clown shoes. It smelled as if it wouldn’t have been able to spell the word bath, let alone have ever been in one. He was waving a stubby black pipe in Alfie’s face.

“Pardon?” Alfie said, trying not to breathe too deeply.

“You deaf, pal? I said, ’ave you gotta light?” the short figure croaked.

Alfie interpreted this to mean, “Good sir, I appear to lack a source of combustion for my pipe, do you perchance have one?”

“No,” Alfie said.

“C’mon, me old china,” the little figure grumbled. “Are you ’aving a giggle or what?”

Alfie was about to tell the reeking excrescence that no, he was not having a giggle, when he felt someone brush up behind him.

Alfie’s London-born and honed reflexes took over before he had time to consider the ramifications of what he was doing. It was a knee-jerk reaction. He whirled around with a speed and purpose that sent the little pipe-waving bloke scampering away with a muttered oath. He grabbed hold of the wrist that was connected to the hand of the person attempting to pickpocket him and wrenched it sideways.

“Ah, get out of it, mate! Come on!” the captured almost-thief protested, squirming.

Alfie gave the arm another twist when he saw the young man who had tried to filch his wallet was drawing back his arm for a punch.

“Ah! All right, all right! It’s a fair cop!”

“And lay off on the whole cheeky London sparrow bit, will you? I was born and raised in this town, same as you,” Alfie said.

“Bloody hell. Fair’s fair, mate! No need to lose your rag over it, I was just having a butcher’s, weren’t I?”

The man that Alfie had in his grip had a slightly wan complexion. His clothes were of good quality but had obviously seen better days. He was blond, with clever blue eyes set in a round face. He must have been more or less Alfie’s own age, though he looked to have lived a tougher life. When he saw Alfie giving him the once over, he tried smiling winningly. It was a good smile but less effective for the fact that Alfie had just caught him trying to rob him.

Alfie twisted the young man’s arm around, pulled him roughly into the space between two stalls, and pressed his face into the musty canvas sidewall of one of the shops.

“What’re you after?” Alfie hissed in his ear.

“I’m not picky, mate. What’ve you got?” the pickpocket replied.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“My luck ain’t got the legs it once did. It needs all the pushing I can give it.”

Regardless of what had almost just happened, Alfie found himself grinning slightly. This character had a quick wit if nothing else.

“You must’ve been working on tourists too much, thinking a local isn’t going to notice someone doing the old dippity-doo-dah on him like that,” Alfie said.

The blond man let out a wheezy laugh and cocked an eye sideways at Alfie.

“I guess, I figured you wrong,” he said. “I heard a succubus back there talking to you like you were fresh off the boat.”

“Succubus? You mean the woman with the pink hair?”

“Who else do you think I’m talking about? Now, if you could just see yourself to let me go, we’ll say no more about it, yeah?”

Keeping a firm grip on the would-be thief, Alfie peered around the edge of the tent he had the man pinned against. There were a pair of men wearing bottle green uniforms and matching hats, walking with the special measured pace of law enforcement the world over.

“Why wouldn’t I hand you over to the guys in green?” Alfie asked the blond man.

The sure smile slid off the young man’s face. “Hold up, hold up, why do you want to go doing something like that? I didn’t nick anything, did I?”

“Only because I caught you,” Alfie pointed out.

“Well… yeah, there is that, I suppose,” the pickpocket conceded. “Look, I tell you what, it’s clear as the nose on my face that you’re a newbie here, right? How about I give you a few pointers on how to stay out of trouble and blend in? In return, you let me—”

“How about in exchange for not handing you in to the rozzers, you act as my tour guide until I leave?”

“Oh, come off it!”

“Fine. I’ll just signal these lads over and—”

“All right, all right,” the blond man said resignedly. “I’ll show you about.”

“How can I trust you won’t leg it?” Alfie peeked around the edge of the tent. The uniformed men were about ten yards away, chatting to a vendor. “You better hurry up and convince me, otherwise I’m pushing both you and your luck into the waiting arms of the law.”

“Fine. I swear on my essence that I’ll play host to you until you cross back over whatever bridge you took over here. Happy?”

“You swear on your essence?”

“How bloody green are you, mate?” the pickpocket asked wonderingly. “Yeah, on my essence. You know, the magical power that resides inside all of us magic users and persons of an extramundane nature? Our intrinsic power?”

“And you can’t break a promise on that?”

“Well, nothing’s ever been proven to happen if a person does break it. It’s just really, really bad luck. Plus, if word gets around that you’re an oath-breaker… well, it isn’t good. Doing that just ain’t cricket.”

Alfie considered this. The earnestness in the man’s voice convinced him that, on this occasion at least, he was telling the truth. Probably.

“What’s your name?” he shot at him.

“Will. Will Savage. And you?”

“Alfie Turner.”

“A pleasure.”

Alfie released the other man and pulled him back out into the street.

“Guards,” Will said, without missing a beat and nodding with theatrical respect as the two uniformed men strolled past. One of them gave both Alfie and Will a stony, mistrustful look before carrying on.

“Is there anything, in particular, you wanted to buy or have a gander at, Alfie?” Will asked, once the guards were out of earshot.

Alfie shook his head. “Not really. I was just told to come and check this place out. I think it was a test of sorts. To see if I was willing to accept the possibility that this place existed.”

Will wagged his head sagely. “In that case, why don’t we just mosey along, and I can point out anything that needs pointing out while ensuring you don’t come a cropper of any of the many unscrupulous coves you’re likely to find in this jungle.”

Alfie snorted. “Like pickpockets?”

“Just so,” Will said unabashedly.

The two of them set off at a leisurely amble. Before long, Alfie found that Will had steered them back onto what might have been called the main street. As they walked, Will prattled easily away. He pointed out certain taverns and explained in detail about their corresponding happy hours, the shops in which the best deals might be had, and the traders and barrowmen who were most likely to sell you the magical equivalent of an inflatable dart board.

They had just entered a more up-market part of the bazaar. The shops and businesses had more entrenched premises; there was more stone on display, and the buildings looked like the owners would have actually cared if they were flattened by a storm.

Will, it turned out, had a knack for tour guiding. His amiable and easy-talking manner made Alfie feel as if they had known one another for years, rather than a matter of minutes. Alfie was just listening to Will expounding on why it was he had more faith in Norwegian-crafted mage armor (whatever that was) than he did in Ecuadorian-crafted bodysuits when Alfie slapped him in the chest with the back of his hand to stop him.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Ow,” Will said mildly. “What’s up?”

“Is that a centaur down there?” Alfie asked.

Will looked casually down the wide street that branched off from the one they had been walking down. There were several blacksmith shops along that particular passage. Sparks sporadically rained out into the street from the open-sided shops.

“Behind that counter? Selling fruit?” Will asked.

“Yep.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Alfie gaped. He was suddenly reminded of one of his dad’s favorite jokes: what do you get when you cross human DNA with horse DNA? Kicked out of the petting zoo.

“Now, as I was saying, the Ecuadorians have some bloody good enchanters among them, but—”

“Hold up,” Alfie said. “Centaurs in the middle of London. Doesn’t that strike you as a bit…?”

“A bit?”

“A bit weird?”

Will considered this. “Not really. I mean, they traditionally lived out on the open plains, but times move on, don’t they? Hard to make a living selling fruit, like that guy is, if you’re based out in the middle of a grassland in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”

Alfie opened and shut his mouth a few times. Comprehension dawned on Will’s face. He put a friendly arm around Alfie and steered him on.

“Ah, you’re referring more to centaurs existing at all?” he said.

“Well, yeah,” Alfie admitted.

“But you’ve had a run-in with a succubus already,” Will pointed out casually. “Not to mention a chat with a hobgoblin. So why is it so strange that a centaur should be back there hawking pineapples?”

“Wait, I’ve seen a hobgob… The little bloke with the pipe.”

“Those purple eyes weren’t contacts, brother.”

When Alfie continued to look mildly flabbergasted, Will said, “Alfie, let me give it to you in layman’s terms—because that’s all I’ve ever really bothered learning, yeah? Those creatures you might consider of the more supernatural variety once lived almost solely in the world that lies next to this world—the one we mostly call the Outer Realm. They weren’t confined only to that place, but it suited them because regular mages like you and I can’t go there, right?”

“Hold on. How did you know I was a… a mage,” Alfie asked. The word still sat funny on his tongue, as if it didn’t belong there.

“Mate,” Will said with angelic patience, “every human in this place has some—however small—penchant for magic. Even if they didn’t know it. They couldn’t get across the Nightingale otherwise—and before you hit me with another ‘why’ I’ll tell you that I dunno how it works. That’s above my pay grade. Or would be, if I was in any way employed.”

“I have another ‘why’. A different one,” Alfie said.

Will sighed. “Go on.”

“Why,” Alfie asked at once, “can’t regular mages go to the Outer Realm?”

“Why can’t you get a cow to walk down the old apples and pears, mate? I don’t know.”

“It’s to do with their hip placement and—”

“My point,” Will said, smothering Alfie’s explanation, “is that the one-way nature of the Outer Realm is just… one of those things.”

Alfie nodded. “No one has ever gone to the Outer Realm?”

“There was one geezer.”

Alfie opened his mouth to ask who that was, but Will waved him down.

“Hold up, otherwise I’ll get my history lesson all tangled up. Now, many of these denizens ended up fleeing the Outer Realm and came through to this world when their entire realm was taken over by a serious piece of bad news, whom it’s assumed still rules there.”

“The one mage that managed to find a way through?” Alfie asked.

“That’s right,” Will said, his face turning serious. “Bloke going by the name of—”

“Savage! Where’s that money you owe me, Savage? Don’t tell me you forgot that you bloody well owed me? Even you’re not that dozy, surely?”

Will and Alfie were bundled unceremoniously into an alleyway between two stalls before Will could utter more than a heartfelt ‘bugger’. Cardboard boxes lined the walls, as they did in so many alleyways. Alfie found himself grabbed by his jacket collar and propelled into a stack of boxes, and he almost went down.

“What the—” he started to say.

He was cut off via the rather expedient method of a fist in his guts. The breath was driven out of him, and he staggered backward, momentarily losing interest in the proceedings as he tried to suck in some oxygen.

“Hello, Barney,” he heard Will say meekly. “How’s it going, mate?”

“Don’t call me ‘mate’, you little oxygen thief,” came the menace-laden reply.

Alfie looked up and saw that Will had been pinned to the side of a stall for the second time that day. This time, however, the person in custody of Will had him by the throat.

The man, Barney, did not look like a man who was having a good day. He had greasy brown hair, a patchy beard, and the kind of dark eyes that would have been more at home on something with no legs that you coaxed out of a basket with a flute. He had the physique of someone who ate a lot of ham and eggs.

“I’m going to be a lot better once you hand over the cash you owe me, sunshine,” he growled.

Alfie made to push himself up, but the fellow that had hit him, a stumpy young man with a septum piercing and a tattoo of some kind of beetle on his neck, raised a warning finger.

“So, where is it?” Barney asked.

“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you it was at home?” Will said.

“We both know you don’t have a home, Savage,” Barney spat. “You’re a rolling stone and all that. And while a rolling stone might gather no moss, you sure as hell better hope that it’s gathered up the four hundred quid it owes me.”

While this exchange was taking place, Alfie studied the man standing squarely in front of him. Since he was in this strange London-not-London area, he was presumably a mage or magic user, although he hadn’t used a spell. Alfie guessed that magic of the offensive variety, like any other weapon, was not something you flashed about willy-nilly unless you wanted to attract the attention of the public and guards alike.

The same frustrated rage that had assailed Alfie back in Furbelow’s magical junk shop washed through him. Was it too much to ask just to be left alone so that he could enjoy this insane revelation? Was it such a big ask not to be mugged or jumped for five minutes while he enjoyed basking in the fact that he was being swept up in every little kid’s dream?

Without quite knowing how, and allowing his heightened emotion to guide him, Alfie found the flickering flame of magic inside of himself and hit it with a blast of frustration-fueled metaphorical aerosol.

His hand was encased in the strange stone glove. He used the slightly springy canvas stall wall behind him to propel himself forward from his slumped position. His fist came around with all the unstoppable intent of a meteor heading for an unsuspecting planet. It caught the second heavyset man in the stomach and sent him tumbling backward in a spray of breathy spit. He crashed into a pile of empty boxes and was lost in a deluge of soggy cardboard.

Realizing that something was amiss, Barney wasted no time in using his head—from short range. He headbutted Will, who turned his own head at the last moment and took the blow on the side of his jaw. The professional thief crumpled with a grunt of pain. Barney’s acerbic gaze swept the box-strewn alleyway, noting his fallen comrade. He turned his attention to Alfie.

“You—” he snarled.

Will’s foot snapped out and caught Barney right in the magic beans.

Alfie blenched at the dull thud of the impact. Will had clearly known that he might not have been able to beat Barney in a fair fight, but he could still boot the thug in the meat and two veg with a certainty that he’d feel it.

Barney’s already quite puce face turned an even darker shade of plum, and he let out a heartfelt groan. Although he was still a few feet away, he lashed out with the edge of his hand at Alfie.

Instinctively, Alfie twisted right. He felt something pass by his face, so close that it left a hot mark across his brow. The stack of cardboard boxes he’d been standing in front of burst apart in a flurry of charred flakes.

Magic! Alfie realized.

The only option that Alfie could see was to press forward. Like confronting someone with a gun, as illogical as it might feel, the best thing you could do with magic, he reckoned, was put pressure on the person wielding it.

And hope that they don’t have a cool head and turn you into something unnatural, his brain added, or blow you into gooey pieces.

As the spell encasing his hand flickered and threatened to fade, Alfie launched himself at Barney. In mid-dive, he threw out his arm and caught the bigger man with a backhand clout. He got him right in the face, shattering his already puggish nose in a spray of crimson.

Alfie hit the ground at the same time as Barney did. He regained his feet quickly, though, and made a show of being ready to fight on. His spell had faded—used up, perhaps. He hoped that Barney would have had his bell rung a little too sharply to notice that, though.

With a curse that was muffled by the blood pouring out of his broken nose, Barney grabbed his still-wheezing compatriot, who was moving suspiciously like someone who had soiled themselves. With a final venomous glance at Will, the pair of them stumbled out of the mouth of the alley and disappeared.

“Well,” Alfie said, probing at the cut above his eyebrow, which had been the result of the magical near miss, and wincing, “your friends seemed nice.”

Will stretched his neck to the side. Alfie heard his vertebrae pop.

“Ah, that’s better,” the blond man said. “Yeah, they’re a real bunch of good eggs, Alfie. Come on. Let’s get a wriggle on before they decide to come back for another bite at the apple.”

“That Barney guy probably will be back, even if it’s just to thank me,” Alfie said.

“You what?”

“Didn’t you see what I did to his face? I must have made him at least twenty percent better looking.”

Will gave him a stunned look as if he couldn’t believe Alfie could joke about the run-in so soon after.

“Although, they do say you can’t polish a turd,” Alfie added.

Will burst out laughing. A second later, Alfie did the same.

“Come on, you nutter,” Will said, grabbing Alfie by the arm and steering him in the opposite direction their two assailants had gone. “Let’s go.”

“You want to tell me what that was about?” Alfie asked.

“Nope.”

“Fair enough.”

They continued on, taking only right turns, which enabled Alfie to keep some idea of where the exit to the Nightingale might be.

They had only hurried on what felt like a hundred meters or so from the site of the fight when a gold-lettered notification popped up in Alfie’s vision. It was a testament to how used he was getting to formerly impossible stuff happening to him that he barely flinched.

+160XP

Level up!

You have reached Earth Fortifier Level 2!

Progress to Earth Fortifier Level 3: 10/400

Stone Fist has reached Level 2!

New spell augmentation available!

Choose from one of the following for Stone Fist Level 2:

* Defensive

* Offensive

Alfie pondered his choice for a few moments, thinking that after that little run-in he could do with something a little more defensive. No sooner had he made this thought than a new notification popped up.

Stone Fist has been augmented with Defense. You now have access to the Stoneskin Level 2 spell.

Alfie only realized he had been reading the pop-up out loud when Will said, “Nice. Always handy getting a boost in your arsenal.”

Alfie looked sideways at Will. The blue-eyed man was working his jaw. Alfie wasn’t surprised. Barney had given him a good sock before he and his buddy had been shown the exit.

“Will,” Alfie said, “I’m still having trouble coming to terms with all this. It’s all like a video game, but it somehow affects the real world. Or, at least, what I’m now seeing as passing for the real world.”

Will chuckled. “You’re confused now—try being a mage who had to learn all this back in the day without the system. It’s a much simpler process these days thanks to the new system that the Grand Prism introduced.”

“So, you’re saying that this Grand Prism somehow made the magical aspect of reality into something out of a video game?”

“That’s what it seems like, yeah. Although I think they’re just trialing it now, but I reckon it’ll take off. It could mean going beyond anything any magic user has done before.” Will sighed and looked off into the distance. “Right now, this moment, it’s the best time in history to be alive.”

“For a thief, you sound like you’ve got high ambitions.”

“Thieving is just a steppingstone, mate. I’ve got dreams. Now, tell me, who was it that just sent you along to the Ignotus Market without so much as a word of warning about what you might find?”

They had stopped at a barrowman and ordered a couple of pies. To Alfie’s surprise, he hadn’t been asked to cough up a couple of bronze what-do-you-call-them or a silver thing. Instead, he’d handed over a tenner and been given four pounds in change.

“A guy called Cornelius Sharpe,” Alfie said, biting into his pie. He didn’t know what was in it—generic pie filling?—but it was good.

Will let out a low whistle. “Get out of it.”

“What?”

“The Cornelius Sharpe.”

“I guess so. Offered me a position at this place called the Aetherbright Academy. I don’t really know much about it, but this Sharpe guy made it seem like a half-decent place to study magic.”

“Cornelius Sharpe rocked up and told you that you’d been selected for the Academy?” Will said, as incredulous as ever.

“Yeah.”

“In person?”

Alfie nodded as he wiped gravy from his chin. Risking third-degree burns, he swallowed and said, “It was a bit more complicated than that, but essentially, yeah.”

He then recounted the incident at Furbelow’s Gimcrack Emporium to Will.

“Why’s that so weird, having the provost pay a personal call?” Alfie asked. “I bet a guy running a magic university gets around a bit, doesn’t he?”

Will shook his head, then winced. “Sharpe’s renowned for being very public-shy,” he said, spraying crumbs. “Outside of the Aetherbright Academy, his movements aren’t really known. I’ve never ever heard of him taking a jaunt in old London town.”

“Why?” Alfie asked.

Will shrugged in a lackadaisical fashion. “People say it’s because the Grand Prism—the branch of the UK government that looks after all things extramundane—likes to spy on him, but who knows? That’s above my pay grade.”

“Speaking of the government, what’s all this about?” Alfie nodded at a poster that had been glued to a lamppost nearby. There was a picture of a ruined building on the front of it. The words ‘Only Weitz Unaccounted For’ was stamped across the bottom in bold font. “I heard some guys drinking in The Canary talking about it.”

Will shrugged again. He had a good build for shrugging. Looked like he could keep it up all day.

“A magical training establishment called Wissenberg somewhere in the Black Forest, the German counterpart to the Aetherbright Academy, was blown up—apparently,” Will replied. He radiated unconcern, but Alfie was starting to think that this was a shield of sorts that his guide employed for reasons of his own.

“You don’t believe it?” Alfie asked.

“It’s hard to believe,” Will said, popping the last of his pastry into his mouth. “Anything that could destroy a magical academy down to the foundations would have to be flippin’ powerful.”

Alfie looked again at the poster, and gold text appeared before his eyes.

Quest Available!

Mystery of the Explosion at Wissenberg

Investigate the cause of the explosion and determine whether it was accidental or intentional.

Rewards:

10,000,000 XP

Level 30 Master Enchanted Item

Error!

Quest unavailable for mages below Level 30. Increase your level or receive explicit permission from the Grand Prism to remove restrictions.

It had been an interesting day, not to mention a physically and mentally taxing one.

Before Alfie knew it, he and Will were standing outside of the set of stairs that led down into the cobbled street and, presumably, remerged on the other side of the canal.

Alfie held out his hand to Will. For a fleeting second, Will looked surprised, then the carefully crafted mask of the indifferent cheeky chappie cool was back in place. He took the proffered hand and shook it.

“Obligation fulfilled?” he asked.

“And some,” Alfie said, grinning.

“Thanks,” Will said gruffly, looking intently at the toes of his scuffed trainers. “For what you did back there. For helping me out.”

“I’m sure you would’ve blagged your way out of it if I wasn’t there.”

“Just goes to show what a terrible judge of character you are, mate,” Will joked.

“Yeah, well, I’m allergic to douchebags who think they can just go round and bash people’s heads in when they don’t toe their line.”

They stood looking at one another for a few moments. There were many things that bonded two people together, but there were few that formed a bond more quickly than a good scrap and taking a few knocks in the course of mutual self-defense. It was hard to know what to say after such an experience, though. ‘Cheers’ didn’t really feel like it would cut it.

“So, you being a mage and all, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Alfie asked offhandedly.

“Tomorrow?” Will said, frowning.

“You know, the train at the abandoned station that apparently isn’t so abandoned?” Alfie said. “For the Aetherbright Academy? At noon? Ringing any bells?”

Will seemed to pull himself together and hitched his cocky grin back onto his face.

“Oh yeah. Right. The train.” He said the word ‘train’ in a strange way, and it made Alfie feel as though maybe this Will fellow might never have caught one before. “Yeah, mate. I’ll be there at eleven forty-five with bells on. Meet you outside?”

“Sure,” Alfie said.

And just like that, spoken aloud as it was, the decision was made.

He was going to the Aetherbright Academy.

“Make sure you send that big troll numpty, Mephitic Brass, my love, won’t you?” Will said as he pulled up the collar of his jacket and went to merge back into the crowd.

Alfie blinked. “You don’t mean the cranky bloke with the stopwatch? He’s not a…?”

Will laughed and thumped Alfie good-naturedly on the arm.

“When are you going to get it into your loaf, mate?” he said. “Just because you think you know something doesn’t make that thing true. And just because you want something, it doesn’t mean that thing’s real. That works the other way, too.”

Leaving Alfie to chew over that piece of street wisdom, Will turned and vanished, almost magically, into the gaggle of shoppers.

Quest Complete!

Attend the Ignotus Market

Rewards:

100xp

Earth Shard x1

+100xp

Progress to Earth Fortifier Level 3: 110/400

A small shard of an iridescent stone, no larger than a penny, appeared in Alphie’s hand.

Earth Shard

Magical component used for crafting spells, items, and other arcane purposes.

With yet another open loop inside his mind at the arrival of this little stone, Alfie put it into his subspace and focused on returning to the world of mundanity.

When Alfie emerged back into the London that he was more accustomed to, it was to find the huge lumpy figure of Mephitic Brass hunched over a steaming bowl. Alfie braced himself for another nasal assault as he walked through the steam coming off the bucket-sized bowl, but to his surprise, he found the odor quite toothsome.

“Smells good, Mephitic,” Alfie said.

The man—the troll, Alfie reminded himself—looked up from his meal.

“Goat stew,” he rumbled.

Of course, it is, Alfie thought.

“Just like mother used to make,” Mephitic said. He ran a slow eye over Alfie, then smacked his lips in a way that Alfie knew would haunt his dreams for years to come. “Well, not quite like mother used to make,” he growled.

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