Hope

Irwyn and Waylan ran across the sprawling streets as a squadron of a dozen property guards pursued them. There used to be over thirty on their heels, so that was progress at least. Though it should have been far fewer this far away from the manufactorium.

The entire area was a heresy against the very concept of urban planning: Just low-income houses that had sprung up around the plentiful employment that the aforementioned industrial complex provided. It had been a great financial move done by the owners some 35 years prior during the reindustrialisation, or so Irwyn had read, since they bought only the land itself and made the desperate workers build their own lodgings in the empty area.

Long term, not so great, Irwyn mused as he, in the corner of his eye, caught a particularly tall guard smash his forehead into a completely meaningless beam sticking out of a nearby building. Then he fell on two of his compatriots who lost line of sight for a few seconds and were therefore out of the chase as Irwyn and Waylan took two lefts and a right in about 20 steps. That was another problem with the haphazard nature of construction: It was impossible not to get lost unless someone had scouted the whole place out extensively. Which is why they really should have lost the pursuers by that point.

They turned onto another long street with the last 9 guards right behind them and Irwyn finally felt why exactly that was. The frontmost guard was holding something and glancing at it whenever the two teenagers tried to lose them. Irwyn had felt the bit of magic within at the beginning of the chase and assumed it was a weapon. In hindsight, it was probably some sort of tracking device instead. How it worked Irwyn could not begin to guess, he had no formal education in casting and all he knew he had essentially figured out by himself. Far from the neat formations that formed proper magical items. That being said, he did have an idea on how to stop a tracking item and the perfect opportunity was coming up.

Just above them was a stack of empty crates, attached to the wall of a building just by rope and a rack. With great satisfaction, Irwyn used some magic of his own. A spark flashed and the hemp incinerated at several locations it had been attached to the wall, immediately causing the wooden boxes to plummet beneath, exactly between Irwyn and the pursuers. Though only Irwyn knew what actually happened as he worked hard to hide his magic. Unsanctioned casting supposedly had a harsh punishment but more importantly it brought the attention of exponentially more dangerous pursuers than borderline petty theft did. The trick with manifesting his flame completely remotely had taken Irwyn years to figure out, that was a long time for a 16 years old street rat like him. It took him even longer to combine it with casting on multiple precise locations at once. But the results were well worth it.

Irwyn wasn’t quite done though. They had planned their escape route carefully and so were running with the sun in front of them. That way it was completely believable when Irwyn used a tiny burst of light to blind the guards. They would just assume it was the sun, especially because the rare casters that traveled through Ebon Respite were associated with many things but using magic sparingly was not among them.

Last was the tracking device. Irwyn lacked the knowledge to rig it in their favour but he had learned a trick during his career as a thief: Magical devices went haywire when flooded with enough raw magic. So that is exactly what he did, feeling the outer layer of whatever the enchantment was crack under the pressure as he and Waylan dipped around another double corner. They kept running for a bit longer but soon realised they had lost their pursuers and stopped to catch their breath.

“Fuck me sevenfold, cunt was dat?!” Waylan, as per usual, cursed as soon as he stopped wheezing.

“Language,” Irwyn barely managed and had to take a few more deep breaths. His endurance was decent, just a good chunk worse than Waylan’s. “They had some kind of tracking device. I think I managed to scramble it.”

“You reckon they realised?” Waylan frowned.

“No,” Irwyn shook his head and they slowly began to walk. "They will not even suspect it among thieves like us. There are no certified casters in the entirety of Black Respite ever since lord Mage Bastard passed away last summer."

"Good riddance, the ol' cocksucker," Waylan spat.

"I do agree that our city is better for his absence." Irwyn nodded. "Left here or the next street?"

"Here," Waylan affirmed. "You reckon the lovebirds and Big Max got it."

"They better do after the distraction we earned them." Irwyn grinned. "If they do not I am confident we get to laugh at them until the next Solstice."

"What ya reckon we gettin' for dinner since the celebration?" Waylan changed topics as they navigated the complex streets.

"I did not inquire what Narcinia intends to prepare for the occasion," Irwyn admitted. "I prefer surprises in the food."

"Yet you used ta always bitch about me mystery pot," Waylan grinned.

"I remember quite distinctly mentioning 'food'. Though I will be sure to contact you the next time I require a potent laxative." Irwyn returned the smile.

"Garh," Waylan grasped his heart in an exaggerated gesture. "Et tu, cunt?"

"No need to remind me why I regret forcing classic literature upon you, Waylan." Irwyn sighed.

"Any literature, Irw." Waylan corrected. "We are at the place, right?"

"Behind the corner next to the pole," Irwyn shook his head. "We moved it a bit further out of sight, remember?"

"Right. Me shitty head, ey?"

"Please, Waylan, language," Irwyn sighed again as he walked around the corner. There, three familiar figures were already waiting for them. A very tall man holding a sack of loot, although cleverly disguised to look like a farmer with potatoes, and two youths, barely older than Irwyn, positively attached at the hip.

"Maxim, Kalista, Rainer," Irwyn greeted in acknowledgment, "It appears you have succeeded."

"Of course we did," Kalista spoke with a giggle, shamelessly hanging from Rainer's neck. "You pulled such a distraction we had the time to stop by the manager's office and grab their accounting."

"What happened though?" Rainer seamlessly spoke as soon as the last syllable left Kalista's lips. It was a small thing but Irwyn had been noticing how well the two spoke together. "I wouldn't expect Waylan to be noticed."

"They been waiting for us, cunts. 50 guards in our ass with magic trackin'."

"They had a caster?" The tall man spoke for the first time, all eyes turning to Irwyn.

"Of course not," Irwyn shook his head. "Some kind of enchanted device but nothing major. The kind of stuff I imagine apprentices make a dozen of when training and then sell to break even on materials. I just confused it for a few moments so we could get out of range. They will all assume it just malfunctioned."

"Good." Maxim nodded. "That is a secret we don’t want getting out."

"Repeating the obvious," Kalista rolled her eyes. "Let’s head back.”

And so they went. Along the streets of the city, chatting but never quite dropping their guard. One could never know when some guard remembers their face, that is why they rarely did jobs with the intention of being seen. And they were also quite young, even Irwyn at 16 would probably be basically impossible to recognise in a year, especially by someone who barely got a look. And he would make sure not to work around the manufactorium for a good while.

Soon enough the houses turned more and more ragged, the street worse kept, and the people increasingly haggard. There was no exact boundary but gradually the group entered the sprawling slums.

They did not stop, however, they each put on an armband: A bit of cheap grayish cloth with a faded dark blue sewing of a teardrop for all to see. It was nothing fancy but each was clearly made to be identical, or close to. They did not become any more or less on guard as they walked down the crumbling road though. The folk were not known for their mercy among the most desperate.

“...And I am confidently telling you that those were not imbued magical scrolls,” Irwyn explained, continuing their conversation. “The logarithmic increase in material cost means that scrolls are either prohibitively expensive or literally just a fancy light source. There is no way an average cloth merchant could afford something that would sting you, much less hurt.”

“It worked pretty well in browning Waylan’s pants,” Rainer snorted. “Though we should revisit just to check. Even if they are crap I am sure a good coin could…”

“Trouble coming.” Kalista suddenly interrupted. And indeed just a moment later another group approached them from the front, one made of at least 15 people. They were wearing armbands of various cloths though each with a distinct red star.

“You seem to be carrying quite the haul on our turf,” a central figure emerged from among them. A young man, maybe 17 with 2 nasty scars on his face. People like that were trouble, especially so young, as Irwyn had learned first-hand. One big scar, that was a person who has had their thrills and dangers, then got hurt bad, almost died. Most people would not risk as much after that, become more cautious. People with 2 as obvious as those? They got burned by the flame and jumped right back in.

“The Tears have a treaty with the Stars.” Irwyn declared. “We are guaranteed safe passage.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. You are completely safe, ain’t I right lads?” the leader turned around to the somewhat hesitant nods of his crowd. “But you know, it’s hard doing rounds around these streets. Me and the lads could use a little something.”

“Are you all sure you want to fuck with us?” Kalista instead turned towards the crowd as Irwyn already formulated their escape. Obviously, they couldn’t fight 3 times their number of armed men so they had to run. Maxim wasn’t the best sprinter so just in case, they would need a distraction. For that Irwyn reached into the pouch on his waist, filled with coloured sand. Of course, the difference between coloured sand ignited by magic and alchemical flare powder was effectively nil and no one could tell the difference once the grains melted. That’s why it made a very convenient excuse in tough situations.

“Stop!” However, before the situation could further escalate a voice sounded from behind the Stars. An older man in rough leather armour stepped out. “Andre, you absolute shithead. I take a piss and your dumb ass tries to rob the Tears?”

“Uncle,” the young 'leader' had the grace to slightly blush but protested, “They are hardly a hard target. Just thieves.”

“Stop and think for a moment for once, Andre,” the older man’s expression cringed in disapproval. “Why did the boss get a damn deal with ‘just thieves’? We don’t mess with the Tears because the last people who did lost every coin and then their fucking pants as they shat on the latrine,” that left the younger man clearly at a loss for words, though the surrounding crowd nodded in distinct approval. Seeing that, Andre got a bit red, scoffed and walked away without a proper rebuttal.

“Sorry for the scare,” the older man turned around and smiled. “Though the lads would have stopped him if they didn’t know I was coming.”

“He ran his mouth hella lot, Pat,” Waylan was still looking in the direction the youth had departed. “Who he be?”

“The boss’s third son. Just arrived from the Other side,” the man sighed. “Can’t make plans for shit, way too aggressive and a damn deviant. But he is an unbreakable helion in a fight and we will need that with the Snakes.”

“So the cold war is escalating.” Irwyn frowned.

“We hit them hard yesterday so it might as well be war already. Not like you have to worry too much.”

“Yes, could you please stop bringing up the latrine story?” Rainer chimed in. “It happened once. I don’t want that as my legacy.”

“Look up, we are famous. I will never forget the look on his face,” Kalista laughed instead. “Good riddance.”

“It makes a good story,” Patrick, because that was his full name and Irwyn refused to use shortcuts whenever avoidable, laughed. “And the new blood are often so poor they would rather lose every last coin than get fucked over like that.”

“We should get going,” Maxim reminded them, still carrying the large sack over his shoulder.

“Yes, it’s a Solstice today, isn’t it. I shouldn’t take up more of your time then. Just send my regards to the old Fowl.”

“Will do,” Waylan nodded and they were let through.

"Do we delay the trials?" Kalista asked after they were out of earshot, "A lot more won't make it back at the start of a turf war, armband or not."

"Fuck, it happens now of all times," Rainer cursed. "The old man won't be happy."

"The old man definitely already knows." Irwyn pointed out “He had Aaron occupied since yesterday. This might be why.”

"I say we delay it," Waylan cut in. "Shit's tough enough for the kids without bloodthirsty assholes bashin’ each other heads in."

"There will be a vote," Irwyn sighed. "Everyone will decide then."

"We have even votes after last month," Rainer frowned. "What if we draw?"

"Give Narci the tiebreaker," Waylan suggested.

"That's hardly a tiebreaker. She objects to the trials altogether." Rainer shook his head.

"Cooks and their golden hearts," Kalista sighed wistfully.

Then soon enough they arrived at their destination: An overgrown orchard that had turned into more of a hedge maze. Beyond it, a large worn down building. Once a town hall, from what Irwyn had gathered, before Ebon Respite had grown into a sprawling industrial zone and swallowed up all nearby settlements. Though that had been before Irwyn was born.

Irwyn approached the door and knocked twice which immediately caused a young voice to sound from within: "Password."

"Hey Ol! It's us." Waylan immediately proclaimed.

"Birds were honey," Irwyn quickly said the actual password of the day before the person inside could protest, or worse: oblige. He was not in the mood for another argument about password security with Waylan.

"Welcome back!" The door swung open, revealing a girl no older than 12 with a bright smile. "Did you get it? You did, right?"

"You betcha," Waylan immediately laughed. "How could da best duo and their help fail?"

"Yes, he was quite heroic as he turned tail and ran," Kalista snickered.

"It be called distractin' Kali."

"Sure, sure." Rainer waved his hand in an exaggerated gesture. "I am sure Olga understands the necessity of strategic retreats."

"Hey Big Max," Olga wasn't really registering the conversation though. Her eyes glittered with excitement. "Is that entire sack filled with the thing?!"

"Yes," Maxim simply nodded with a small amused smile.

"There is just… so much!" Olga's eyes were as wide as her mouth. "With this much everyone could get an entire chunk!"

"We will leave the splitting to Narcinia," Irwyn smiled. “Now, if you would not mind, we would like to come inside and rest before dinner."

"Oh? Oh!" In her excitement Olga had not realised she was blocking the doorway with her body and quickly stepped aside, slightly panicky.

"Always keep a cool head," Maxim advised as he moved past. "Don't panic even if you get shot. You will make it much longer then."

"T-thank you!"

And then the group was in. A quick dozen steps through the entrance hallway and they stepped into an expansive hall. Though it might be more accurate to describe it as a shelter considering the plethora of sleeping bags and cheap mattresses. All across the hall young children were scattered in groups, enjoying the toys of various make; even a few teens were among them, though they tended to separate from the youngest and far less numerous. And at the back end of the hall sat an old man, surrounded by the children, decrepit but with a wide grin on his face. And all knew him by that nickname that described him, for he was as devious as an…

“Old Crow!” one of the children near him exclaimed, showing him a very expensive-looking puzzle box they had managed to solve. Irwyn even remembered stealing the one from a Roadstreet merchant.

“Well done Jeremy,” the old man kept smiling as Irwyn approached with their group. “Keep it up. Every puzzle you solve makes you a bit smarter. And being smart is very good.”

“Old Crow,” Irwyn approached and offered the elder a slight bow of respect; as did everyone else in their group. “We have what we went for but they were expecting us. The word has gotten around the industry,” Irwyn immediately reported. “I think we should do the Solstice raid a day early next time and then maybe hit the same place two times in a row to keep them guessing.”

“It was only a matter of time until someone figured out the pattern,” Maxim added from the side. “I would have thought Aaron would have caught wind of it though.”

“That is fault on my side,” the Old Crow sighed. “I had Aaron dedicated to a different assignment the last two days. One that is unfortunately far more grave than semi-prepared security. I am calling an urgent meeting, with you we have everyone here,” the elder said and the group of 5 immediately lost all their leisure. Many things could be said about the Old Crow but he didn’t mess around with his own. Now that he looked Irwyn saw that basically every teen in the room was standing up and heading towards one side of the hall. One particular entrance, in fact.

The building they lived in used to be a village hall a long time ago before being swallowed up in Ebon Respite’s expansion during the reindustrialisation. Then the place had fallen into disrepair in the emerging slums until Old Crow had found it and decided to set up his charity mission here.

That much was relevant because the building had a whole lot of rooms of all sizes and even an actual meeting room that they now used. It even had a bunch of chairs and a desk at one end. And behind that desk sat another familiar youth a bit older than Irwyn, wearing his distinct spectacles and ink-stained sleeves.

“Everyone is here,” the Old Crow nodded, looking around the room. The Tears had 23 ‘adults’ with a vote, though the Crow was the only one actually over 20 and most were below 16. They had all gathered in the room as Irwyn noted Maxim securing the door against eavesdroppers as he usually did. “Aaron, explain the situation.”

“Yes, Old Crow,” the spectacled youth stood up with a severe expression. “A dangerous situation has arisen, not just across the slums but across the entirety of Ebon Respite. I have been investigating and can confidently say that the Old Swallow is dead.”

“What?!” Kalista exclaimed, startled, and Irwyn was barely able to hold himself back. Because everyone knew of the Old Swallow even if few had met him; for he was - or had been - the undisputed best thief in the city when it came to cracking vaults. He had infamously once stolen an heirloom ring from a Magelord’s vault as he was passing through the city.

“How certain are you?” Maxim asked with a frown, though little emotion appeared on his face.

“Almost completely.” Aaron shook his head. “If not for his reputation and older deeds I would have been certain when his head arrived at the Guild.”

“Is it big game bounty hunters? To catch the Old Swallow they would need a capable divination caster and someone to block his retreat.” Irwyn guessed.

“Unfortunately I suspect the situation is much, much worse.” Aaron shook his head again and Irwyn noticed the uneasy tick of his left hand. “The Old Swallow broke the third tenet.”

“Fuck,” Rainer muttered as Irwyn felt chills down his spine. Oh.

“The third tenet?” one youth asked uncertainly. He looked only thirteen and was among the youngest in the room. Irwyn couldn’t for the life of him remember the boy’s name.

“The tenets of the Guild,” Irwyn explained, “Though they are more like good advice for people like us. In order of importance. First, never dabble in necromancy, lest even the worst scum among us will come to purge the Betrayer’s rot. Second, never break a promise made to another one of us lest all abandon you. Third, never, ever, steal from, rob or threaten a Blackburg lest the Duke’s bloodline shows you the Wrath that had forged our duchy from dust.”

“He tried to rob a fucking Blackburg?!” the youth that had asked before immediately recoiled and so did two others who apparently did not know beforehand. Irwyn had assumed that everyone had known the tenets by adulthood so perhaps he should advocate making sure that they actually did before the children ventured into the world. But that was an issue for another time.

“Yes,” Aaron nodded gravely. “A sealed carriage had arrived in Ebon respite two days ago, bearing the Black Castle insignia. I did not dare inquire any further. What makes me certain that the Old Swallow had tried his luck at it is the state his head was in when delivered: His eyes and blood had been turned pitch black while whatever took his head had been an impossibly clean-cut despite going straight through a vertebra. I believe he had been tortured and then killed by Void magic. Anything to add Irwyn?”

“I would need to see the head to learn much more,” Irwyn frowned. As the Tears’ resident and only caster, matters of magic and mage tradition almost always deferred to him in some way. “This might sound a bit morbid but were his eyes possible to remove? It seems clearcut enough but the Blackburgs presumably practice the old ways of Umbra, they would have replaced his eyes with magical constructs that have no actual physical manifestation: Hollow eyes of nothing for the fool that saw even less. It would be a complete confirmation.”

“I will try to inquire but we should assume that House Blackburg was crossed and that they will retaliate.”

“We will have to delay the trials and all lay low,” the Old Crow spoke grimly. “We will dip into our reserves to buy food and not take any work for at least a week. Warn our allies tomorrow then dig in and hide until the Blackburgs leave. Anyone against?” he looked around the room but no one raised their hands.

“The Stars and The Snakes are about to have a go at it. It could be a smokescreen.” Rainer suggested.

“We cannot count on that,” Aaron, however, did not agree. “The Tears are known in the slums and Blackburgs are not incompetent. Moreover, it was a thief who messed with them this time. I fear they might insist on a pound of…”

“Wait.” Maxim interrupted raising one hand and pointing the other towards the door he was standing right by. 2 seconds later a knock sounded on the door.

“The food’s ready,” a young girl’s voice said. “Narci said to come eat while it’s hot.”

“We can get our plans together tomorrow morning,” Old Crow suggested. “Better not to let the kids know something is wrong on their big day. You will hold the speech again, Irwyn?”

“Of course,” Irwyn nodded. He had done so the last 6 times.

“Good. Enjoy the food and try to not worry too much today, everyone. It’s your birthday too.” The old man shot them all a warm smile and Irwyn couldn't help but return it. For all his faults, he was the closest thing their lot had to a father.

Returning into the hall the tables were already made, as few of them as there were. Most of the food, a generous serving of stuffed meat rolls with potatoes, was actually laid on long stools of different heights just tall enough for kids of all ages to eat while sitting on the floor. As one of the ‘adults’, Irwyn had the privilege of sitting at one of the tables in a corner by the stairs. Waylan and the rest went right with him, each taking seats almost at random, just sticking to their confidant groups. Well, with the exception of the Old Crow who had the seat of honour, a separate small table just for him at the edge of the whole arrangement. By the time they got seated most of the younger kids were already half done with their meal since it was basically impossible to keep hungry children from something so delicious.

“How is it?” a young woman, though still a bit older than Irwyn, asked them from a nearby table not long after they also dug in.

“Definely one of yer best, Narci.” Waylan complimented, his mouth half full.

“I concur,” Irwyn said, too numb to Waylan’s table manners to cringe after so many years.

“Please speak so we non-casters can understand, Irw,” Rainer chided while Kalista, unapologetically sat in his lap, enjoying the meal. That at least earned a humble smile from Narcinia, their resident chef. Even though she was older than Irwyn, she wasn’t a full adult since she never went out to work, but everyone still loved her because of her exceptional cooking - no big surprise considering she was about the only person in the building who had not learned to cook by putting together whatever could be scraped and seeing if it was edible after boiling.

Despite the jolly mood there was not much more talking as the exceptional meal vanished from each plate. No one would leave any leftovers, Irwyn was sure of that much. And then it was time to introduce their loot of the day; the sack had gone straight to Narcinia to divide up before the urgent meeting. When the meal was done she vanished into her domain, the kitchen, together with her younger assistants and brought out the day’s loot. It was rather simple really. Few would think of bothering to steal something like that since it wasn’t very expensive. The issue, of course, was quantity and status. Because if Irwyn tried to buy enough to give everyone a chunk he would immediately, if rightfully, be questioned about where he stole that much money and where he could possibly be bringing that amount. But despite that, it was worth every risk because as soon as the little kids saw it their eyes grew twice the size. To them it was something really special. A luxury they might have never gotten to experience otherwise.

Narcinia brought out platters of cake and the room exploded in cheers. Every kid got themselves a good chunk with the exception of that one boy who tried to steal someone else’s last Solstice. Irwyn and his group got their servings too, rejoicing in the stimulation sugar brought after a long day. It might not have been a completely unique experience for him but it was very satisfying nonetheless.

“Well then, I should probably get on with my speech,” Irwyn smiled after refusing to lick the plate clean and got a thumbs up from Waylan as he stood up. It was the darker half of dusk already so the room was relatively dimly lit with only the candle lanterns. He was not particularly visible in that atmosphere; not yet.

He made his way to the stairway at the end of the room and stepped up a few steps to be visible from anywhere in the hall. Considering the loud chatter, even if he were to shout he would only end up ignored. So instead, Irwyn raised his hands towards the room and focused. The first time he had done this 3 years prior it had been a struggle, requiring exhausting concentration, prohibitive time and significant exhaustion. Nowadays a barely conscious nudge of his mind was enough for all the lanterns in the large hall to extinguish at the same time while a brilliant halo of light rose above him, twisting and wobbling. Suddenly every eye in the room was on him as conversations died out.

“Today is Lumen’s Solstice. The longest day of a year,” Irwyn started. Thankfully he wasn’t struck by a fit of stage fright this time. “But do you know why we celebrate it? Why everyone who doesn’t know their own birthday chooses the Solstices instead?” He looked around the room, trying to make eye contact with as many of the children as possible, though in truth he couldn’t see much, the main light source in the room focused on him.

“Let me tell you a story. The greatest of all legends. As it is told by The Book of the Name.” Irwyn played around with the brilliant halo, making it gradually shrink and focus the Light on his face, his own magic wouldn't blind him. And so he began: “At the beginning, there was only the Flame…”