The meeting was set in the old town square - everyone felt more secure outside than in close quarters with their “peers”. Drazaria sat on a half-collapsed rooftop, partially hidden behind the chimney stack. A few people had still spotted him - and one of those had left. Probably thought he was too much of a loose cannon to work with - and they had no idea how right they were.

The ringleaders sat or stood on a stagnant fountain. According to Owal’s notes, they were a bandit trio that called themselves the Wicked Witches. Savra, their leader, he was familiar with - she’d been an apprentice under the Royal Sorcerer when he’d worked in the palace. She’d been dismissed when he’d been… otherwise disposed. For treason, but then, the Royal Sorcerer liked using that as an excuse for getting rid of people who had crossed him. Drazaria scratched at his arm as he studied the three.

Savra was a brown-skinned woman with steel gray hair pulled into a loose bun and purple eyes. A scar ran across her face from her right temple to her left cheek - that was new. She stood on the edge of the fountain with a calculating look - sizing up those gathered. Her right hand seemed to be carved from wierwood, likely a focus. She’d been one of the first people to spot Drazaria and had given him a small nod of recognition.

Sitting beside her was a Colzan with blonde fur and short black hair. Her name was Desenda, and she glared at the ground with silver eyes. Owal hadn’t had a lot of notes on her - other than that, she seemed to be the trio’s combat strategist as well as their strongest combatant. Which was typical of the bipedal canids. She used magic in a way similar to Drazaria himself - as a blunt object. However, the sorcerer was counting her as an unknown variable - he knew almost nothing about how Colzan practiced magic and how much of it could be a front.

The last for the trio was a calla lily pelatia woman named Emore, who had been traditionally trained as a witch in the pelatia kingdom’s Royal Court of Magic and had been dismissed for getting caught trying to kill the Head Witch and take over their position. Had she succeeded, she would have been the new Head Witch herself with no repercussions - it was being caught that she was being punished for. Emore sat on the edge of the fountain in a far too delicate dress for the location and seemed to be using magic to give herself a faintly glowing white aura.

“Alright, you all know why we’re here,” Savra announced, drawing everyone’s attention, “For one reason or another, we’re all after Swordheart.”

“Yeah, and you want to form an alliance,” a white-scaled woozhi rolled his back most green eyes - the middle pair watching the trio and front pair looking around at everyone gathered. From Owal’s notes, his name was Rot, and he was a leader of a group that wanted to take the Basin back from humans - violently. And then wipe out the remaining humans, just in case. The man went on, “What I want to know is exactly how you plan to divide up the prize.”

There were a few shouts of agreement from the crowd, which was to be expected.

Been wondering that myself, Drazaria thought, watching carefully.

“I don’t,” Savra scoffed.

“Then what the fuck are we here for?” a vanin with green scales demanded. Her name was Saynya, and she was a thief - a very good thief.

There were several shouts of agreement and similar sentiments.

“The point of the alliance is to take care of the Guardian,” Savra shouted over all of them, “Once we’ve done that, we’ll fight it out and winner takes all.”

So that was her plan, Drazaria snorted, looking for reactions.

Everyone seemed to be considering the offer, either to themselves or with companions they’d brought with them. Of course, now would be the perfect dramatic entrance.

“If that’s your plan,” Drazaria called out, sticking his hands in his pockets and jumping down from the roof. He rose with a grin, “I say we fight it out right here and now - that’s the only thing I’m here for, anyway.”

“What?” Savra asked, hands going to chakrams at her waist.

Drazaria strode through the crowd casually, grin still firmly in place even as he felt the familiar itch running up his arms, “I don’t need any of you weaklings getting in my way.”

“Says the guy who can’t beat a teenager,” said another human—a man named Karib, head of a mercenary band.

“Oh?” Drazaria chuckled, “Has someone else here accomplished that?”

There were a couple of grumbles and a laugh or two.

The sorcerer launched himself up, landing on the fountain’s simple statue in a crouch - tossing a swap stone out behind him. He turned back towards the crowd, “I’ll give you all ten seconds to decide - leave now, or I’ll take you out.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Savra demanded, “You seriously-”

“Ten.”

There was murmuring in the crowd.

“Nine.”

Savra glared up at him, grinding her teeth.

“Eight.”

“We can take him!” Savra declared - jumping back and pulling out her weapons, “If we just-!”

“Seven.”

That was as long as Rot was willing to give him - jumping through the air with magically enhanced speed and opening his maw wide, splitting his lower jaw in half for maximum teeth coverage.

Kid’s notes were spot on about his impatience and hatred for humans, Drazaria thought - he’d known he wouldn’t make it to one, but he’d wondered who would be the first to attack. He teleported back to his swap stone, then enhanced his legs to shoot back up and launch attack magic into Rot’s stomach with one hand - using the other to wrap a barrier around the woozhi’s mouth like a muzzle. While the man was still winded, Drazaria grabbed the fountainhead and twisted to deliver an attack magic-enhanced kick and send Rot flying into a nearby building.

Brushing hair out of face, he cracked his neck and said, “Six.”

The fragile peace broke.

Savra threw her chakrams, and Emore made several illusionary clones appear. Others jumped into fighting each other and came after Drazaria, who jumped up with enough force to break the fountain’s center behind him. He was soon met in the air by Desenda and coated his arms in defensive magic as she struck out with her claws. They traded magically enhanced blows - flashes of red and blue as they alternated attack and defense magic.

She’s good, Drazaria thought, She knows exactly what she’s doing.

The sorcerer braced his forearms and coated them in a reactive barrier to let Desenda’s next blow send him hurtling toward the ground. He enhanced his legs again to take the blow, feet cracking the ground under him with the force of it. He had just enough time to jump and start dodging the chakrams - real and illusory - that came flying at him. Rolling to his feet, he charged at Emore-

Only to be waylaid by Rot reappearing and twisting to land a double kick to his middle. The woozhi’s mouth was still muzzled, but he growled around it.

Drazaria growled back, healing himself as he rolled to his feet again. Then he grinned as Rot charged him, putting up barriers on either side to block chakrams and waiting until the last moment to grab the woozhi and throw him at Emore.

Desenda appeared in front of her companion to catch and toss Rot away, taking a defensive stance in front of the pelatia woman.

She definitely knows battle strategy, Drazaria thought, turning and charging Savra instead.

She had just caught her chakrams and kept them in her hands as melee weapons as the sorcerer struck up at her with attack magic-coated hands.

“Why are you like this!?” she demanded, “We could’ve-!”

“Nothing personal,” Drazaria replied, finding an opening and knocking her out cold. Before he could land a finishing blow, Desenda was on him - causing him to leap away.

But the Colzan woman didn’t pursue - she threw Savra over her shoulder and booked it back to Emore to do the same and continue running.

I don’t think she approved of this idea, Drazaria scoffed in amusement - then turned back to the battle royale occurring around him. He jumped into the fray with enthusiasm - here was where he felt most himself. He loved being outnumbered and unable to think about anything - relying on instinct and experience to dodge, parry, and strike. kradreen sorcerers were taught combat as a matter of course - and his own days as a mercenary had refined his skills. His last few years on the run had given him a desperate edge most people couldn’t match.

To others, he seemed more like a malevolent spirit haunting through the battlefield - something inhuman in intensity and force.

That was until a voice called out, “By the authority of the King of Ballatsa, you are all under arrest.”

Drazaria froze in place, and time seemed to stop - stealing all the air in his lungs, filling his ears with white noise, and making his vision blur.

The Royal Sorcerer.

He was sent flying by a blow, which snapped him out of his paralyzed state. He rolled to his feet to see they were surrounded by Ballatsa soldiers and quickly charged the nearest group. He tore through the heavily armored soldiers like paper, running as fast as his magically enhanced legs would take him out of the town and towards the forest. He needed to escape before he was noticed by-

“Drazaria?”

A teal barrier slammed down around him, and he turned to see him.

A tall white man with slicked back black hair and blue eyes, his left arm made of living blue crystal, and wearing fine robes even all the way out here. He cupped his chin with a sly smile, “What a catch - I didn’t expect to find such a gem among the riff-raff out here.”