The dawn light filtered weakly through the shuttered windows, casting a pale glow over the room where Viktor, Arelos, Fenric, and Soren lay sleeping. The gentle creak of the door woke them with a start, revealing an older man with a stern demeanor standing at the entrance.

"Up, boys," he barked, his voice cutting through the remnants of sleep. "You're expected downstairs in the kitchen hall. Make it quick." His eyes bore into them as if daring them to dawdle.

They groaned in unison, shaking off the tendrils of slumber that clung to them. Arelos rubbed his eyes blearily and swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as his feet met the cold floor.

"Best sleep I've had in ages," Fenric muttered, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. "Beds, I'll tell ya, can't beat 'em."

No one answered. The room was filled with the sound of shuffling feet as they made their way downstairs.

In the kitchen hall, a large table waited with Faros seated at its head, a steaming mug of coffee and a bread roll placed before him. As they entered, he looked up and smiled, gesturing expansively for them to take a seat. "Morning, gentlemen. Please, have a seat." His voice held the same smooth charm they'd come to recognize.

The boys obliged, slipping into the chairs and eyeing him warily.

Faros called out over his shoulder, "Mikos, if you would, bring breakfast for our young friends here."

From a side door, Mikos, a grizzled man with a crooked smile, nodded and bustled out of sight. Faros turned back to the boys. "It's no royal feast, but Mikos does a commendable job for what we have."

They didn't have to wait long. Mikos returned, his arms laden with plates of food and steaming mugs of coffee. He set them down with care, and the aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with steaming meats filled the air.

The boys gave each other a quick look, hunger clear in their eyes, and then tucked in without hesitation, the need for sustenance overriding decorum.

Faros chuckled, watching them devour the food. "Hungry, are we?"

Viktor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up. "Well, our dinner plans got cut short last night."

Faros cleared his throat, growing a touch more serious. "Yes, rather unfortunate business, that. But you all came out of it in one piece, so you're lucky in that respect," he said.

Viktor pushed his plate aside slightly, his expression becoming more guarded. "And I guess we have you to thank for that?" The words were tinged with skepticism, as if probing for the real motive behind their aid.

Faros waved a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it," he replied casually.

Clearly not satisfied, Viktor pressed further. "I doubt you helped us just out of the goodness of your heart. What do you want from us?"

Faros gave a sly smile. "Straight to the point, I see. You know which organization I represent, don't you?"

"The Black Cipher," Viktor answered, a note of cautious control in his voice.

"Indeed," Faros confirmed. "The Black Cipher is always on the lookout for promising new talent. Occasionally, we extend small contracts to prospects who catch our attention."

Fenric, brightening at the idea, piped up. "The merchant job! We did well with that letter, huh? And now you want us in the Cipher? Makes sense—talent recognizes talent."

Faros let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I'm afraid you're jumping ahead. The job went alright for beginners, but let's not pretend it was an outstanding display of mastery."

Fenric’s pride visibly deflated, a scowl creeping onto his features at the unexpected critique.

Faros continued, "Don't misunderstand—each of you shows potential. Especially you, Arelos," he said, nodding towards him. "But my primary interest lies with you, Viktor."

Viktor frowned, surprised by the attention. "Why is that? What's so interesting about me?" he asked, defenses rising.

Faros' eyes lingered on Viktor, his gaze a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. "What interests me about you is the paradox you represent. Your vernacular indicates a highborn origin, yet you're living on the streets like a common urchin. No missing noble child has been reported around here, which is a puzzle," Faros stated, tapping his fingers on the table. "I might have dismissed my suspicions if it weren't for your undeniable magical talents."

The room fell silent at his words, each occupant absorbing the implications. Finally, Viktor spoke up, his tone defensive, "I'm not a mage."

Faros leaned back, his expression patronizing. "Don't insult me with lies, young man." he demanded, eyes locked on Viktor.

Viktor opened his mouth, hesitant. "I don't know what you," he started, but Faros cut him off with a quick raise of his hand. "Enough, boy. Just show me," Faros urged, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Viktor glanced over at Arelos, searching for counsel. Arelos shook his head subtly, a clear sign not to reveal anything. Despite the silent warning, Viktor knew that Faros held more cards than he was showing. Resigning to the fact that secrets were already laid bare, Viktor exhaled deeply. "Alright," he conceded. "But calling me an actual mage seems like a stretch." He focused on the coffee mug in front of Faros.

With a nudge of concentration, Viktor made the mug lift from the table. It hovered in place for just a moment before it began to smothly accelerate towards Viktor who snatched it from the air as soon as it was within reach. He examined it briefly before setting it back down on the table with a faint clink.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Faros leaned forward, awe mingled with triumph on his face. "So it's true," Faros murmured. "You really are a mage. This practically confirms you're highborn as well."

I thought you said you already knew," Viktor replied, discomfort prickling.

"Suspicions," Faros corrected, a knowing smile crossing his lips. "But now you've confirmed it for me."

An uneasy silence settled, Viktor feeling the burden of his decision. Had he misjudged the stakes? "What now?" Viktor asked, eyes flicking between Faros and Arelos.

Faros raised both hands, palms outward in a calming gesture. "Relax. You have nothing to fear from us. On the contrary, we're going to help you."

Arelos leaned forward, catching Faros's eye. "Help us how?" he asked. His tone was direct, cutting through the lingering tension.

Faros's eyes took on a distant look, as if he was envisioning future events beyond the room. "Things are changing in Lycona. Throughout the kingdom, too. Even across the shattered empire," he mused, his voice carrying a weighty implication.

Arelos wasn't impressed with Faros's vague musings. "You're dodging the question," he pointed out, his voice firm but not aggressive.

Faros chuckled, a low sound that filled the room. "I see you like things straightforward," he said. "I want you to join the guild, all four of you."

Having expected as much, Viktor spoke up, "Why? You've already made it clear that we only did a half decent job with the merchant, and surely, with the Hollow Hand biting at our heels, we're more trouble than worth."

Faros replied, "The Hollow Hand is no threat to us, at least not at the moment. However, I'll be honest, recent activites has me concerned, and I suspect that we're on a collision course, regardless of your involvement."

"What activities?" Fenric asked, his curiosity piqued.

Faros waved off Fenric's question, "That's a different matter."

"You still haven't answered my question, why us?", Viktor said, deciding to push the issue.

Faros took a slow breath before replying, "I wasn't lying when I said we are on the lookout for new recruits. The only difference is that we'd normally vet them for far longer. Things really are changing, and we need the people." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if weighing his next words. "At first, you were little more than a personal curiosity of mine. However, once we suspected that you were a mage, things changed. Suddenly, you represented an opportunity that we'd be hard-pressed to pass up. Still, we weren’t planning on forcing the issue—not until The Hollow Hand made their move."

Before Viktor could reply, Arelos spoke up once more. "You seem awfully keen on recruiting Viktor, don't you have enough mages in your ranks?"

Faros laughed suddenly. "Mages? Young man, we haven't had a mage in our ranks for nearly two hundred years. In fact, the only guild I'm aware of which currently has access to mages is the assassin's guild in Onyra. Well, I suppose there's also—" He stopped abruptly, his expression tightening.

Arelos waited a few moments, letting the silence stretch before speaking again. "If this is a negotiation, you're not strengthening your position. You clearly place a great deal of value on Viktor, but if he's that important, why shouldn't we leverage that elsewhere? Tell us, why should we join you?"

Faros offered a small, measured smile. "Trust seems to be the currency in highest demand right now, wouldn't you agree? By being upfront about how much we value Viktor, I hope to earn a bit of trust in return. It might not bolster our position in a negotiation, but I believe our position is plenty strong as is."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone steady but laced with conviction. "Join us, and you'll gain access to our resources—training, equipment, and shelter. And perhaps most importantly, you'll have our backing. We can shield you from The Hollow Hand."

Faros paused, his gaze shifting to Viktor, his voice softening. "And whatever else may haunt your past."

Viktor weighed Faros's words carefully. "What do you want in return?" he asked, knowing nothing would come without a price.

Faros's answer was simple, delivered with a steady gaze. "Loyalty," he said. He let the word hang in the air, giving it weight with his serious expression.

Arelos pondered the word, letting it settle in the space between them before he spoke again. "You're going to need to be more specific than that."

Faros leaned back slightly. "Once you're in, you take on the guild’s purpose. You carry out its orders, support its interests, and protect its members. Once you're part of us, there's no leaving."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, absorbing the commitment's weight. "That's quite the bind," he commented, his tone carrying a hint of incredulity.

Faros let out an easy laugh, lacing his hands behind his head. "Of course, you’re free to walk away. What you know won’t matter much—a compromised location or two won’t trouble us."

Viktor weighed Faros's words, unsure if the easy assurance was truthful, yet he nodded regardless. "We'll need time to talk this through."

Faros gave a welcoming smile as he rose from his seat. "Naturally," he agreed. "Discuss it among yourselves and find me in the garden when you're ready. I can give you an hour to decide."

With that, he exited the kitchen hall, leaving the group to their thoughts.

----------------------------------------

Viktor was the first to break the silence, looking around at his friends with a serious yet calm demeanor. "So, what do we do here? Do we take Faros up on his offer, or try our luck elsewhere?"

Arelos pondered the question, his brow furrowing in thought. "Well, what real options do we have?"

Viktor shrugged noncommittally, crossing his arms as he leaned back in the chair. "I suppose we could make a run for it," he suggested, though his tone made it clear that he wasn't entirely convinced by the idea.

Arelos nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That's one possibility, assuming they let us waltz out without a fuss."

Viktor caught onto Arelos' meaning. "You think Faros might not be as open-handed about us leaving as he claims?" he asked, his brow creasing.

Arelos shrugged again, still looking carefully at Viktor. "It's hard to say," he admitted. "Surely it would be easier for them to make us disappear than uproot their safehouse. Can't say I'd bet on them just letting us walk away."

Fenric jumped in, his voice energetic. "I say we join up. The Black Cipher's supposed to be something else, real legendary stuff."

Soren frowned at his brother's enthusiasm, his voice skeptical. "Are you serious, Fen? We just got free from one guild, only for you to want to dive right into another?"

Fenric shrugged off his brother's doubts, as if brushing gnats from his sleeve. "Hollow Hand and the Cipher are leagues apart. They've got to be, right?"

Soren looked uncertain, shaking his head. "You can't be sure about that," he countered.

Viktor interceded, speaking up to outline their choices. "It seems we're at a crossroads. We can join the guild, take advantage of their resources and protection, or we can split town. But leaving would come with the risk that they'd stop us, despite what Faros claims."

The room fell into thoughtful silence, each boy considering the implications of the decisions before them. Finally, Arelos spoke up, breaking the heavy quiet. "I'm leaning towards going with Faros," he said. "It's risky, but we're caught between a rock and a hard place no matter how you look at it."

Viktor nodded at Arelos' words, appreciating his insight. "Any ideas what they'd have us do? The kind of jobs they expect?"

Arelos shrugged, his expression placid. "It's hard to be sure," he said. "But they mostly deal in information, so maybe surveillance, infiltration, that kind of stuff."

Viktor absorbed this, a slight frown tugging at his lips. "I can live with that, as long as it means not hurting anyone or stealing from decent folks."

Soren, his expression serious, looked to Viktor. "So, what do we do, Vik?" he asked, the question laced with the weight of uncertainty.

Viktor took a moment to gather his thoughts, running through the possibilities in his mind before making his decision. He nodded once, firmly. "We join," he declared. "If it doesn't work out, we'll find a way to leave. We won't be trapped."

With his decision made, the others nodded, trusting in his judgment. The boys stood in unison, gathering themselves before heading out to find Faros and relay their decision, ready to face the new chapter, come what may.