Doc set the rune book aside, its worn cover marked with charcoal smudges from the past few days of reading. The radio beside him crackled earlier with Marron's voice, confirming their safe arrival at Foroughfore. A day or two of rest, then the return trip to Glasshold.
Good news, at least.
Doc stood, stretching slightly. His joints protested at the sudden movement. The small chair in the room had served well enough for study, but it wasn't designed for comfort.
He descended the stairs with Fish padding behind him, her claws quiet against the wood. The common room opened below—warmer and filled with afternoon light through the front windows.
Movement near the hearth caught his attention.
Mira stood beside the bar speaking with Garrik, gesturing toward something on the counter. Cassira sat at a corner table with Maris, the two of them bent over what looked like a small notebook. Mar stood near the door, his massive frame occupying the entire entrance alcove as he watched the room.
Doc paused at the base of the stairs.
Cassira seemed different. Less guarded than before. The stiff formality she'd carried during their first meeting had softened. She was talking—actually talking—not just offering polite responses.
Maris looked up, spotted Doc, and waved him over with enthusiasm.
Doc crossed the common room. Fish settled near the hearth like she usually does.
"What are we talking about?" Doc asked as he reached the table.
Maris grinned. "Cas is a real princess!"
Doc laughed—quiet, reflexive amusement at the child's active imagination. He'd figured Cassira for someone important. The guard alone told him that much
But a princess?
That was a stretch.
He nodded at Cassira anyway, acknowledging the joke without comment. No point deflating the kid's fantasy.
"How's school?" Doc asked, keeping his tone casual.
Cassira's expression shifted. The ease vanished, replaced by something sharper. Her gray-blue eyes narrowed slightly, studying him.
Doc held her gaze, waiting.
She was deciding something.
Finally, she spoke.
"Tolerable," Cassira said, her voice measured. "The lectures are comprehensive. The library resources are incredible."
"But?"
Her mouth thinned. "The social side of things is still complicated."
Doc nodded. He understood. He'd been living in complicated since his shuttle crashed.
"Mira helping with that?" he asked.
Cassira glanced toward the bar, where Mira was still speaking with Garrik. Her expression getting softer.
"She has been a blessing" Cassira said.
Doc smiled slightly. "Her folks are good people too."
"Yes, they are." Cassira whispered softly
Their was something in the way she said it that made Doc felt a bit sad for her.
Cassira studied the man before her.
Doc sat with casual ease. His tone carried the gentleness of someone asking after a friend's well-being.
Yet Serin had done some digging.
Doc had recently collected the bounty on Rellan Vex at the Adventurer's Guild. Rellan—the notorious bandit lord whose name alone sent shivers through frontier settlements. Fifty thousand gold marks for a kill that had required verification by Truth Stone.
The fact that Doc claimed such a bounty marked him as exceptionally dangerous. The kind of fighter who survived encounters that killed most adventurers.
But here he sat, asking about her academy life and speaking to Maris with the patience of a man who genuinely cared about a child's answer.
Maris had told her the story earlier—how Doc and Fish had caught the three of them attempting to raid the wagon. How instead of calling the watch or turning them over to guild authorities, Doc had simply brought them inside, fed them, and given them shelter..
Cassira didn't understand it.
Was he clan-affiliated? Imperial? A powerful independent who operated outside of it all?
Serin's contacts couldn't place him. They were no record of him in the northern registries. The Adventurer's Guild had treated him with unusual deference, but that could mean anything.
She shook her head slightly, dismissing the circular thoughts.
"How is your study of runes going?" she asked, redirecting the conversation.
Doc smiled—a genuine expression that softened the sharp lines of his features.
"Making progress," he said. "But I'm going to need another book."
Cassira raised an eyebrow. "Already?"
"The one I got from the mages guild gave me the basics well enough," Doc explained. "But it's introductory material. Mostly foundational patterns and simple energy flows."
His tone shifted.
"Runes function as structured interfaces," Doc continued. "They're instructions for how ambient energy should behave. Each geometric element serves a specific purpose in the transformation matrix. Angles regulate flow rate. Intersections convert or route energy. Closed forms stabilize output."
Cassira blinked.
That wasn't how most people described rune magic.
Most instructors spoke of runes as mystical constructs—ancient patterns passed down through generations, their inner workings unknowable. You memorized the forms, channeled energy properly, and you get results.
"You've... tested this?" she asked carefully.
"Drew a light rune in the stable yard," Doc said. "Standard pattern from the book. Worked fine. But there was a redundant angle in the transformation matrix—didn't contribute to the output. Removed it. Light got brighter and the mana draw decreased."
Cassira's breath caught.
"You modified an active rune?"
“Step by step,” Doc confirmed. “I changed the angles one at a time. Every adjustment changed the light in a way.”
That shouldn't be possible.
Runes were fixed constructs. You couldn't just... change them while they were active. The energy destabilized. The pattern collapsed.
Unless you understood exactly what each line contributed.
Cassira's mind raced through the implications. If Doc's approach worked then the entire field of enchantment theory would….
She forced herself to focus.
"There's another book," she said slowly. "More intermediate. I've seen it in the Academy library." She paused, thinking. "You might be able to find another copy at the Mage's Guild. Principles of Runic Architecture by Magister Torien Ashvale. It covers the theory behind multi-layered runes in detail."
Doc nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I'll check it out. Thank you."
"Doc!"
Cassira turned as Calen entered through the front door, followed by Kipp and Ren. The three boys looked windswept and cold, their coats dusted with light snow.
Doc looked up. "Where were you?"
"Checking on the trade depot," Calen said, brushing snow from his shoulders. "The carpenter said it should be safe enough to move over soon. Work still needs to be done, but the structure's safe."
Doc nodded. "Good. That's progress."
Calen glanced at Cassira, then back to Doc. "Sorry to interrupt"
"It's fine," Cassira said. "We were only talking about runes."
Doc nodded and gestured toward her. "Cas recommended a book at the Mage's Guild. I was going to head over to get it."
He looked at Calen. "Would you like to join?"
Calen hesitated, glancing toward the kitchen. "I would, but I promised Bran and Elara that I'd help them today. They're preparing meals for the traders coming through."
"No problem," Doc said easily.
"I'll come," Kipp offered, stepping forward. "Been wanting to see what a Mage's Guild looks like anyway."
Ren nodded. "Same. I'll tag along."
Maris brightened. "Me too."
Doc smiled. "Alright then. Let's go."
The four of them moved toward the door—Doc leading while Fish fell into step beside him, Kipp and Ren flanking the group, and Maris trailing just behind them.
The door closed behind them with a soft thud.
Cassira sat in the quiet for a moment after they left.
Doc was strange.
She did not know what to make of him yet.
That bothered her more than it should have.
“You’re thinking too hard again.”
Cassira turned.
Mira stood near the table with two bowls balanced in her hands, one eyebrow raised.
“My mother says food helps with that,” Mira said, setting one bowl in front of her.
Cassira looked down at the stew, steam curling into the air.
After a moment, she picked up the spoon.
“Your mother seems very practical.”
Mira smiled. “She is.”
Cassira took a small bite and let the warmth settle.
For now, that was enough.
Doc stepped through the Mage's Guild entrance with Fish at his side and Kipp, Ren, Maris trailing close behind him.
The main hall buzzed with activity—robed mages discussing contracts while apprentices rushes left and right.
Doc paused near the threshold, orienting himself toward the supply shop.
A familiar figure crossed his peripheral vision, moving quickly toward the side corridor.
Dark hair. Guild robes. Bronze threading marking his status.
"Dain," Doc called.
The young man froze mid-step, shoulders tensing.
After a moment, Dain turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral.
Then his eyes landed on Ren.
The composure cracked immediately.
"Ren?" Dain crossed the space in three long strides, stopping just short of his cousin. "What are you—what are you doing here?"
Ren shifted his weight, glancing briefly at Doc before answering. "Doc took me, Kipp and Maris in."
Dain's gaze snapped to Doc, then back to Ren. "Took you in?"
"We tried to raid his wagon," Ren said with a hint of embarrassment. "He caught us."
Kipp and Maris both turned to stare at Ren.
"Whose he?" Kipp asked
"My cousin." Ren replied hesitantly
"Wait," Kipp said slowly. "He's your cousin?"
Ren nodded. "Yeah."
Maris blinked. "You never mentioned that."
Ren shrugged. "Didn't come up."
Doc tilted his head slightly, processing. Ren had mentioned a cousin at the guild once—someone who passed along small gifts when he could. Doc hadn't connected it to Dain.
"Small world," Doc murmured.
Dain exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He looked at Doc with something between gratitude and bewilderment. "Thank you. For taking him in."
Doc shook his head. "He's a good kid. They all are."
"How's Kess doing?" Doc asked, shifting the conversation.
Dain straightened. "She's... busy. The trade deal with your settlement has kept her occupied. I haven't seen her much in the past few days." He paused. "She provides steady work, though. So I can't complain."
Doc nodded. "Good to hear."
Dain glanced between Doc and the kids. "What brings you here?"
"Looking for a book," Doc said. "An Academy student recommended it. Principles of Runic Architecture by Magister Torien Ashvale."
Dain's brow furrowed slightly. "That's an advance book. Guild shop might not have it in stock, but it's worth checking." He hesitated. "Good luck."
"Thanks."
Doc turned toward the supply corridor, then paused. He looked back at Kipp, Maris, and Ren.
"You three coming?"
Ren glanced at Dain, then back at Doc. "I'd like to talk to Dain for a bit. If that's okay."
Kipp exchanged a look with Maris.
"We'll wait at the entrance," Kipp said after a moment. "Don't really need to see boring magic books anyway."
Maris nodded in agreement.
Doc studied them briefly, then looked at Dain. "You'll stay with them?"
Dain nodded immediately. "Of course. I'll keep an eye on them until you're back."
"Good." Doc gestured toward Fish. "She'll know if something's wrong."
Fish's amber eyes fixed on Dain for a moment—before she turned and padded after Doc toward the supply shop.
Dain watched them go, then looked down at Ren.
"So," he said quietly. "You guys tried to rob him."
"Yeah." Ren said in a small voice.
Dain shook his head slowly. "That was stupid."
Ren looked away, but his shoulders eased a little. “Worked out, didn’t it?”
Dain stared at him.
Kipp snorted. Maris covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh.
Dain sighed, but there was no real anger in it. Then he looked Ren over properly.
The coat looked worn, but it fit better than the last one Dain had seen him in. There was color in his face. His hair had been washed. He still looked like a street kid, but not one sleeping under frozen stairs and stealing crusts to get through the night.
That hit Dain harder than he expected.
“You look better,” he said quietly.
Ren’s faint smile faded into something awkward. “Yeah. Been eating.”
Kipp leaned in slightly. “A lot, actually.”
Maris nodded. “Bran keeps giving us seconds.”
Dain blinked. “Who’s Bran?”
“Cook,” Ren said.
“He says we’re too skinny,” Kipp added.
Maris looked down at herself. “He’s not wrong.”
Dain let out a breath that almost became a laugh. He looked toward the corridor where Doc and Fish had disappeared.
For a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
Then he turned back to Ren. “Start from the beginning.”
Ren shifted on his feet, glancing at Kipp and Maris.
Kipp shrugged. “You’re the one with the cousin.”
Maris gave him a small nod.
Ren looked back at Dain and started telling him of that fateful day he, Kipp, and Maris met Doc.
Dain still wasn’t sure what to make of that man.
But looking at Ren now, warmer, cleaner, and standing a little less like the world was about to hit him, he was starting to understand one thing.
Whatever Doc was, he owes him one.
Wisp stood beneath the awning across from the Thornwick Rest. The shadow here ran deep enough that passersby wouldn't notice him unless they looked directly at the spot—and most didn't. His Unseen Walk skill ensured that.
The inn's windows caught the midday light. Movement inside — figures moving through the common room, the steady rhythm of an inn doing business. He'd been watching long enough to map the patterns.
The armored man had left an hour ago. The one they called Doc.
Wisp had heard the name a week back, whispered at the Adventurer's Guild while he waited on a contact. Rellan Vex's bounty had been collected and it was Doc who'd collected it.
How he'd killed Vex, Wisp didn't know. He didn't want to know.
A man who could collect on Rellan Vex was a man Wisp had no intention of being in a room with. So he'd waited. Watched.
Today the armored man was gone, and the girl was inside.
That was enough.
Wisp exhaled slowly, watching his breath curl into the air before dissipating.
The contract had come a few weeks ago. A courier delivered the terms in a sealed envelope—simple, direct, and carrying enough gold upfront to buy his silence. The target: Cassira, daughter of the High King. The job: extract her cleanly, deliver her to a specified location outside Glasshold's walls, and disappear.
Wisp had taken contracts like this before. Nobles used kidnappings to send messages, leverage negotiations, or settle old scores. He didn't ask why. The gold was all that mattered to him.
But this one had complications.
Cassira spent most of her time at the Imperial Academy, surrounded by instructors, guards, and the Archmagister himself. Valerius Kaine wasn't someone Wisp wanted to cross. The man's reputation alone kept most criminals from operating anywhere near the Arc Quarter.
So Wisp had waited.
She visited the Thornwick Rest twice a week—always with her roommate Mira and her half-giant guard Mar. The inn sat in the Outer Approach, far from Academy oversight. No patrols or guild presence. Just a goblin innkeeper, his human wife, and whatever transient guests happened to be staying.
It was the best opportunity they'd get.
Wisp had spent three weeks planning. He'd mapped the inn's layout carefully—entrances, exits, and blind spots. He'd identified the staff, noted their routines, and cataloged every thing that could turn this into a disaster.
The goblin innkeeper was a problem. Garrik Thornwick. Level thirty Skirmisher, according to the scan crystal one of Wisp's crew had used during a brief visit.
Then there was Mar—the half-giant who shadowed Cassira everywhere she went. Eight feet tall, armed with a war axe that could cleave through stone.
And there was Doc. A man so high level the scan crystal just bounces off of him.
Wisp had considered abandoning the job.
But the client had grown impatient. Messages arrived with increasing frequency, each one more insistent than the last. The timeline had been moved up. Now or never.
Wisp reached into his coat, fingers brushing the hilt of his enchanted dagger. The paralytic agent worked in seconds — one cut, and the target went down without a sound. He had twelve crossbow bolts coated with the same compound, just in case.
His crew was in position. Twelve of them on the rooftops and in the alleys around the Thornwick Rest, crossbows up high, blades in the choke points, two teams at the rear and two on the side streets. Nothing got out without him knowing.
It was more men than he'd ever brought to a job. The half-giant alone would take six to bring down. Garrik was a Skirmisher — fast, mean, and harder to kill than he looked. Subtlety wasn't going to work against fighters like these.
The inn's front door opened. Elara stepped out with a small crate, moving with the easy confidence of someone who'd made the trip a hundred times before. The stable door opened. She disappeared inside.
Good.
Wisp raised one hand.
Across the street, on the rooftop opposite, a shadow shifted. Then another. Then another. Twelve answers in the space of a breath.
Wisp activated his Veil. Light bent around him until the wall at his back showed through where his shoulder had been. He stepped off the curb and crossed the street, boots silent against the cobblestones.
Behind him, on every rooftop and in every alley, his crew began to move.
