The figure did not laugh, nor did he respond. He turned on his bench, and Darrow’s next joke caught in his throat. The lionin, a tiger man, was larger than anyone he had ever seen, and his eyes. It was definitely his eyes that gave Darrow pause.

  They were an amber colour, and that, along with his stripped fur and kimono, made Darrow hesitate to do what he planned next.

  The tiger man watched him silently, and after a while, when Darrow did not speak, he spoke.

  Rather, his cellmate spoke. A lionin, but this one had grey spotted fur.

  “What's wrong, cat got your tongue?” the skinny man said, and the other prisoners burst out laughing.

  “That's a good one,” a voice said from the blocked-off cell next to theirs.

  “You're loud,” the tiger man said in general, and he seemed to address both of them.

  The other lionin man, dressed in a leather vest and thieves' leather pants, looked at him, shrugged, then went on to lean on the well. He scratched at his messy fur now that he had been told off.

  Darrow swallowed, then he gave a bow as Damian just rolled his eyes again.

  “I practice,” the rogue said, getting up from his bow.

  The tiger man grinned, and Darrow tried not to step back.

  “You can call me Artoz, Artoz Freefang.”

  “Freefang,” Darrow repeated. Freefang meant he was free from any noble houses or factions, and judging from how many war beads were tied in his hair, he was strong enough not to be pressed into any faction.

  It could be a cover-up, Damian thought, but he didn't tell his brother.

  Barely a minute passed by when they heard the boots of the guards again. Steel-toed boots against stone.

  “They found you blocking the road,” the guard said to the new prisoner.

  “Yes, I am a carriage driver,” a metallic voice droned on.

  “Sure you are,” the human guard said.

  “This is a violation of section 7!” the warforged said.

  “You were not even supposed to be there.”

  “That's irrelevant to the civic code,” the warforged said as he was shoved inside the cell.

  “That's enough,” Bormac said. “I will send someone to get your boss, and he will explain.”

  “Hey,” Darrow said, but Senior Watchman Bormac ignored him.

  “What do you want,” an elf guard said, looking back.

  “Auh, dear jailor, I am free, and I can not be contained.”

  The elf just rolled his eyes and moved to step away.

  “No, no, no. Don't roll your eyes; this is important,” Darrow said, and the guard arched an eyebrow. He stayed, wondering what Darrow was up to.

  “You think these iron bars define my boundaries, but they only define yours. You, my good man, are the keeper of the cage. Tell me, who's imprisoned? Me, the one inside, or you, the one who never leaves?” Darrow said and turned, blocking the guard’s view. He looked at his brother.

  Damian rolled his eyes. It wasn't often that he got caught up in Darrow's mischievous plots, and when he did, he often regretted it. He sighed, but then he used one of Darrow’s skills [Shadowmeld].

  Darrow turned and squinted at the guard. The tiger man let out a small laugh, and the guard frowned. There was something different, but the elf couldn't put a finger on it.

  The watchman started to respond, but Darrow cut him off.

  “Don't answer that. It's rhetorical. I haven't figured out the logic as well.”

  “Something’s off,” the elf said.

  “It's the keys. You see, I am free. I have the keys to my mind,” he said, and the guard stiffened, his hands going to the keys at his waist.

  The young elven watchman looked at the keys in his hand, then up at Darrow.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Well, I tried,” Darrow said and moved to the bench.

  The guard watched him and frowned even more.

  “Wait a minute, where is the other one?”

  “Who?” Darrow looked around.

  “The other one,” the guard repeated.

  Darrow looked around, looking confused.

  “Did you use a skill,” the guard said and started opening the cell. He had his wand in his other hand.

  “Don't. He's tricking you,” Artoz said, and the elf guard paused. He looked behind, then back through the cell bars.

  The elf gulped and relocked the door.

  “Smart choice,” Artoz said and shook his head with a smirk on his face.

  The officer cursed. He stepped back as he watched Damian stop blending into the shadows. With the [Shadow meld] skill, or the [skill imprint], having just run out.

  Damian stepped out; he shrugged at Darrow and went back to sitting on the bench.

  —

  Cassandra was heading back to the storefront when she saw a man waiting for her by the door. He wore a cap and a thick coat.

  She knew the man. He was a back street bruiser, a fist for hire, but most importantly, an informant.

  “Maj,” she nodded.

  “Cassandra,” he replied.

  “What is it,” she asked, opening the door before pausing to look at him.

  “Its your boys.”

  “What's wrong with them?”

  He paused, he pulled out his brass knuckledusters and put them on. He admired them for a bit, and she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “They are locked up over at the bridge.”

  “How much?” she asked because she knew his kind. It was often in her line of work that everything had a cost, and to the right person, it was often worth its weight in gold. That was the point, and he knew it.

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

  “No, this is a favour. We can be friends, right. I just need information.”

  “Fine, I'll help you,” she said.

  The man put away his knuckledusters and beamed at her. She just frowned.

  “Your boys were found in a raid,” he said and looked at her.

  She just looked at him, then the door. She locked up her storefront, then left. She had to get them out of jail. Dragon's shield, her brother would never forgive her if anything happened to them.

  “Rest his soul,” she muttered.

  —

  Damian and Darrow were still in Ash Lock Jail. An hour passed after the officer moved on, and the boots echoed again.

  Bormac returned. He gave the twins a glare, then turned to the opposite cell.

  “Release Mr. Artoz,” the dwarf said, pointing, and two guards came over and started opening the cell.

  “Sorry sir, we didn’t realize you're with the Takers guild,” one said.

  The other guard held his swords. A long katana and another that was more average. It was human-sized, but for a tiger man, it was definitely his secondary weapon.

  Artoz rose slowly. He cracked his neck, and the dwarf gulped. He left his cell, the lengthy spotted lionin man now avoiding his gaze. Most of the criminal kind did.

  The Takers were a real adventurers' guild, but not in the way the other guilds were. The Takers were a sort of cult branding. They had no guild master or leadership. They, however, had a memory and were following teachings passed down across the continent's city-states.

  The Takers were known this way because they took the most dangerous jobs. They took the gate dungeons that were considered too dangerous for the other factions to send their brightest and most high-level individuals. No faction wanted to lose their promising individuals in a dungeon. That was not a problem for the Takers, however.

  “Sorry sir,” Bormac repeated, and the tiger man looked at him.

  Artoz noticed his war bead. Compared to his twelve, it meant that the lionin could have walked out of here if he had wanted to, and none of the guards could have stopped him.

  Artoz grabbed his katanas and put them on his waist. He reached out, and the guard handed him his badge.

  The guard swallowed. If the rumours were true, all the Takers were gold and mythril rank adventurers. That's why they were able to do the things they did. The guard bowed, and Artoz stopped him with a raised hand.

  “Please, it was not so bad. The company was quite entertaining as well,” he chuckled and looked at Darrow.

  Damian just scoffed, not put off by the lionin’s assumed high level.

  “That look, boy. Mind it. A dualist like you should do well in the Coliseum of Myr.”

  Damian's eyes widened. His face went through realisation, surprise, shock, then fear, as he wondered how the man had seen his class. Had he seen his second class as well?

  Artoz nodded, and Damian's eyes never left his back as he walked out following the watch.

  “See you around, stripes,” Darrow said.

  An hour or two later, there was the sound of boots, and the door to their jail cell cracked open. They both looked up.

  “The senior watchman will see you now,” the guard said, stepping to the side and watching them.

  The brothers exchanged a look, but they didn't complain.

  They walked forward and entered the city watch office, where they found Bormac and their aunt Cassandra.

  The whole thing felt like they were in some principal’s office as she looked them up and down, seeing they weren't injured, while Elora was standing in one corner of the office.

  “So these are your boys, Cassandra.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, ye boys are troublemakers. They tried to trick one of my guards into opening their cells.”

  He pushed a scrying orb in front of her. Cassandra frowned at what she saw as she looked at Damian disappear and the elf guard move to open the door.

  “No one got hurt, I assume,” she said.

  Bormac looked offended.

  “The point is, I could put them up for attempted escape.”

  “You and I both no that’s not a law.”

  “Fine, but the next time I see them, I will send them to the Wall of Seraphel.”

  The demon gate. She frowned. “You wouldn't dare,” she looked at him and narrowed her eyes. She couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not.

  The dwarf looked from her and back at the boys. Damian had a stern look on his face, and Darrow was halfway between standing and going down on his knees. He settled back in his chair.

  “Their father was the best Gate Keeper I ever knew, but that respect does not extend to these two. Besides, they are too low level to survive a siege on the wall.”

  She looked at him and didn't say a word. She got up on her feet, then told the boys to go outside.

  “It wasn't his fault, you know,” she said when the three had left, and Bormac looked up.

  He nodded.

  “I know,” the dwarf said, massaging his forehead and remembering a comrade.

  —

  “Awe, freedom again,” Darrow stretched.

  “It’s not like we were going to stay in there forever,” Damian said, breathing in the wet air around the bridge.

  “You knew, of course.”

  “How,” he folded his arms.

  “It's obvious. She always knows where we are.” Damian scoffed and waved him off with a hand.

  “But how.”

  “That's her job, Darrow, that's her job,” he said, and his tone lowered as he looked back at the entrance of the jail.

  Darrow sighed, “You're right... just never thought of it,” he said, but in actuality, it was the sort of thing that was at the bottom of his 'things to note list'.

  “The question’s how much trouble we are in.”

  “It wasn't our fault.”

  “Sure,” Damian said.

  “Any way, Elora, did they take it.”

  “Of course not.”

  “You mean the magical page.”

  She pulled up her shirt. Both boys reacted differently. Damian looked to the side, and Darrow covered his eyes. There were a few things you had to learn and fast when growing up with strict metrion in the house.

  “I had to hide it where they wouldn't look,” she said.

  She had tied the magical paper against her belly. She unstrung it and handed it over.

  “Ah, thank you,” Damian said, his cheeks colouring a bit.

  This was an expected relic class artefact, and it had been hidden under her shirt. Dragon's shield.

  “What are you three up to?” Cassandra said, startling them.

  Darrow moved so fast, grabbed the page out of Damian's hand, and put it under his shirt.

  They turned to face Cassandra. Darrow pretended to straighten his shirt.

  “You two explain,” she asked.

  “We were caught in a raid,” Damian started.

  “Of course I know that part,” she said rather dryly.

  “We couldn't escape without her,” Darrow pointed at the half-elf.

  Elora hesitated, then she nodded.

  “They did come back for me.”

  “Dragon lords preserve me,” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

  She didn’t speak afterwards. She just walked past them, and the brothers, as well as Elora, followed behind her.

  —

  The next day, Damian was the first to wake up.

  [Mourn twin]

  [New skill: Mana Infusion].

  Damian opened his eyes. It felt like he had developed another sense.

  The morning’s light filtered through the apartment of their small room as dust motes lazily floated in the light.

  Damian was half awake at this point. He hoped today would be better than the previous day.

  He yawned, then blinked blearily, and only then did he realise that someone was standing at the door.

  Cassandra was standing at the door, her arms crossed with an expression sharp enough to cut steel.

  Damian froze.

  “Morning,” he offered weakly, but she did not reply. She just stared, her jaw tightening.

  Turns out that she hadn't forgotten about them getting locked up by the city watch.

  From the side, Darrow was oblivious to the situation. He snored very loudly in his sleep, and by the looks of it, he didn't know what was going on.

  Damian reached for the nearest pillow, and he hurled it across the small room.

  There was a loud thud, and Darrow snorted, then stirred.

  “Ow– what. What?” he said, jolting upright and rubbing his face.

  Darrow looked around. His mind registered that he wasn't in any danger, and he moved to rest his head back down. Unfortunately, Damian didn't let him.

  “She’s here,” Damian hissed.

  Darrow turned back around, and sure enough, there she was. Aunt Cass was standing at the door, and she didn't look pleased by his behaviour one bit.

  Darrow also guessed it had to do with a missing verbal torrid that had not come forth last night when she allowed them to go to bed.

  “Ahh..” Darrow mused, his expression falling. He had just been having the third-best dream of his life.

  “Outside. Now,” she said and didn't wait for any responses or excuses they would give. She turned, and they watched her back as both brothers in unison fell back in their beds.

  “What do you think it is,” Darrow asked, his eyes closed.

  “Trouble definitely.”

  “Is it because we got caught or because she had to bail us out again,” Darrow asked, and Damian just chuckled.

  A moment later, they both scrambled outside. Darrow was dressed in his black leathers and busied himself with covering the many belts under his cloak. Damian was dressed in his padded coat over his shirt and metallic bracers on his wrists.

  They stepped out into the chilly store office, and there was the faint smell of recently heated bread and herbal tea. Outside, carriage noises were just beginning to pick up as the city was beginning to awaken.

  Cassandra stood waiting. Her arms were folded, and her foot was tapping. The brothers gulped.

  “Explain?” she said.

  “It wasn't our fault–,” Damian started, but was interrupted.

  “Explain,” she repeated and cut him off.

  Darrow, on the other hand, was more amenable, and he started recounting how they had ended up getting caught. To do that, he started from the beginning. He talked about their journey as they entered the tunnel next. He went over when they found the corrupted goblins, and that's when she interrupted.

  “The same ones that attacked you on the streets,” she asked.

  “Yes, the same ones,” Damian said, and she frowned.

  “What did Grimjaw say.”

  “The first time he attacked us. He thought we killed members of his clan.”

  She raised an eyebrow at that. Then Darrow interrupted both of them and continued on, telling her that they had found Elora's father.

  “Was he mana corrupted.”

  “No, or at least not yet,” Damian said.

  “What is going on?” she frowned, then muttered under her breath, and the two brothers could see her concern.

  Shortly after that came the part about a mage and Lord Greldo’s sigil on a carriage holding Elora's father.

  “Lord Greldo,” her gaze darkened.

  It was often the case that different factions did things illegally to get ahead. She was one to know. She had done those very jobs to make enough coin to care for the boys.

  There were times she had to steal or hire someone to leave a letter under a noble's pillow as they slept. She had to investigate this. Perhaps even find out who the mage was.

  “Ooh, and before they arrested us, I did a bit of magic,” Cassandra’s mind came to a crushing halt as she looked up.