Frigun Harrow sat at the centermost table in the Old Lady Tavern. He and his closest men were playing a high-stakes gambling game. He was winning, which was why he was in such a good mood. He had just played the best hand all evening.

“Ahhh,” he sighed happily. “Why don’t you play while I take a smoke.” It was less an Idea and more a statement, but the group assented nonetheless. Outside there was a picturesque serenity. a cool—but not unpleasant, wind brushed against his face. The falling sun cast a beautiful orange light through the clouds and onto the rooftops of Finicks Bay.

He was pleased with himself that evening for many reasons, not just the gambling. Most prominently, he was pleased at how his operation was going. He had of course lost more men in the last week than he had in five months, but that was something he expected. And thanks to his mysterious client, their numbers could be replaced.

There was one thing that was bothering Harrow, though; The boy, Tay Mallor. It had been well over a week since he had last seen him. While he was annoyed that he wasn't paying him back yet, the thing that made him uneasy was that there were rumors that not only had he been in contact with the Red Cross Guild, but also with the Baron's filth.

He would certainly have to keep an eye on him in the—Harrow leaped back, crushing the wooden deck beneath him. A sword hung in the air where his face had been. The wielder of the blade made Harrow hesitate. Not something he did often.

“Boy,” He said dangerously. “What do you think you're doing?” Tay stared at him. It wasn’t the first time Harrow noticed anger when the boy looked at him, but something was different. He wasn’t hiding it, but rather letting it flow like molten metal.

Tay raised his sword, the edge of it glowing with heat. “Killing the man who ruined my life.” He said, hissing the words as if speaking to Harrow was some sort of vile act. A tinge of…something held Harrow from speaking for a moment, but it didn’t last

“Ungrateful little devil! You dare raise your sword against me? The man who raised a stray off the street?” His own voice stung with fury. “No, I do not dare to. I dare to raise it against the man who murdered my family.” Harrow stood silently. All anger fading from him. He still kept his hands tightly in fists, but he felt a terrible feeling.

“Boy…” He tried, but the glare from Tay made it hard for him to think straight. “No.” He growled.

“Don’t say another word. I don't—I won't listen.” Harrow took a step back. “All these years you’ve been using the son of the people you killed as your…pet, your entertainment. Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

“Did you enjoy watching me as I played to your tune?” Harrow let his fists go. “It wasn’t like that, boy.” He said, almost pleading. “I said NO.” He yelled. “I don’t really care. All I want is for you to experience the smallest taste of what I feel now.”

“And how will you do that?” Asked Harrow weakly. “Do you think that now you're a big, strong level 2 that you can take me and the rest of the gang on by your lonesome?” Tay shook his head, the faintest glimmer of a smile crossing his face.

“No. but I’m not here alone.” Harrow realized too late that they were not alone. He fell to one knee as a magical arrow embedded itself in his hip. The sounds of yells and cries came from inside. Men flooded from the Old Lady as Harrow's men heard their leaders' pained grunt.

“Boss!” Said Tomy. The large bald man saw Harrow as a father, as did quite a few of the Damned Fey. Hollins stood close behind them, he could feel the anger radiating from his third in the command. “It’s an attack!” Warned Harrow. But again, it was too late. Two men fell to the floor. Two arrows sticking out of their backs.

The men rushed to get their weapons, the gang's bowmen, or if there was someone with ranged spells, fired back at wherever they thought the attackers were. In a flash, the battle had started. Men donning the symbols of the Red Cross Guild rushed from between houses. They fell on the roof of the Old Lady from the high walls behind.

Harrow stood, imbuing magic into his body for strength. Hard rock began to form on his fists. He stared at the boy, Harrow's eyes looking into his. A moment later Tay's sword lashed out.

Harrow was no slouch in combat. He was at the peak of level 3 and had seen his fair share of brawls. So he didn’t find issue in fending the comparably inexperienced Tay off. It didn’t help that the boy's anger was feeding into his sloppiness.

Blow after blow was parried by Harrow’s rocky arms. The heat that Tay was generating was rather impressive, though. “Enough.” He said as he caught Tay’s stomach in a kick. The boy flew in the air before crashing into a building, disappearing through the walls.

Harrow focused on the attacking force that had come down on his home. He felt for members that were worth targeting, but then he felt him. He felt the familiar steadiness and unmoveability of earth, but amplified to beyond anything Harrow could hope to achieve.

The battle continued as if there wasn’t a level 5 adventurer standing in their midst. “Henry.” Harrow greeted. The guild Captain nodded. “Frigun.”

“Is this your doing then?” He asked. Henry sighed. “Not by choice, but I doubt that makes this better.” Damn right. Harrow thought. It wasn’t that long ago that Harrow and Henry Carval were companions, fighting in the tower together. Back then, the Red Cross Guild was still rather new. Their members were relatively few, but they had spunk.

They had dreams and aspirations for greatness. Harrow chucked. Now look at them, the most important people in a city no one cares about.

“Something funny, Harrow?” Asked the Captain. Harrow shook his head. “Nothing,” He suppressed a laugh. “Just reminiscing of our great, great fall from glory.” A look of anger shot across the Captain's face. “Your fall, you mean?” He had a look of superiority about him. “You’ve fallen farther than I. Were you not the one who sought to be the leader of one of the great continental guilds?” Harrow asked.

“I have not lost my ambitions, traitor.” Henry’s voice boomed, shaking the ground. That made people notice him. Harrow winced. The reminder of his past choices was not something he cared to be reminded of.

“I have simply grown wiser. I am no longer the foolish boy I was then. My plans are now within the realm of possibility.” Harrow felt concerned for a moment. What did he mean by that…

“What are you planning, Henry?” The Captain smirked. “There is no point in telling a dead man.” And like a flash of lightning, Henry was gone. Harrow spun, expecting to see the Captain behind him, but he wasn't there. Suddenly, he heard a scream from behind him. A man, Paul, he thought that was his name, was lying on the floor, a foot-tall section of his chest, gone.

Henry’s sword was covered in blood. As fast as he could manage, Harrow retreated. He saw the battle clearly as he made it to the roof. His men were being overwhelmed at least 4 to 1. Knowing it was a hopeless fight, he called for a retreat. His men, caught up in the adrenaline of fighting, took several moments longer than they should have to follow his commands. In just the few extra seconds, three others died.

“Do you think I’d let you go!?” Asked Henry in a rage. But before he could use any assuredly devastating spells, Tomy’s battle ax came into view. It caught the Level 5 in the leg, but it did little except to fan his anger. It did, however, take the Captain's attention for a moment.

“Bella!” Yelled Harrow. A moment later, a dark-skinned, poofy-haired woman appeared. She was one of Harrow's most prized subordinates. “Don’t you dare, Bell!” Harrow turned to see a bloody, limp-armed Tay standing at the end of the roof. one eye was a bright red from the blood that flowed into it from a gash just above his eyebrow.

Harrow could feel the boy’s magic surging like a wild animal from his body. Dangerous. He knew. With a cry of anger and desperation, Tay rushed forward. Harrow activated one of his spells, ‘ram’ and a solid cylinder of rock formed in front of his hand.

He swung at the boy's chest, but the smaller adventurer ducked under and formed a ball of fire at the tip of his sword, and swung his blade. The sphere of blazing power hit Harrow's undamaged hip and sent waves of pain through him. He only managed to stay on the roof by almost ripping a joist from its bolts.

Using his incredible strength, Harrow swung himself back up—with no small amount of pain, and flung himself towards Tay. The obviously injured Tay barely had time to react as the big man crashed into him. They struggled as they fell to the cold stone below, each grasping for anything they could. Tay stabbed and Harrow punched, and eventually, they separated.

Harrow felt half a dozen sources of warm blood dripping from his body, while Tay struggled to even stand. But as if compelled by sheer will, Tay surged with energy. It was only after the fact that Harrow realized he was panicking. Bella had appeared behind him and had started to form her magic around them both.

Water surged like a whirlpool, growing into a sphere swirling fast enough to take skin from bone. In a single moment, they disappeared.