Once Abad was safe, hidden on the roof of an old building several blocks away from where he fought the two men, he let himself relax. He watched carefully, observing as guards swept past his position and scoured the street. Several dozen men hurried by over the next thirty minutes, but none bothered to look up. Even if they had, his [Embrace of the Abyss] would make it impossible for most to see him. For those who could, he shifted his [Mask of Many Faces] once more, this time switching back to his blonde Abad persona. He''d need to retire Arun-Sun until he left Farnfoss.


    Finally, after waiting a while longer, Abad crept back out into the street and made his way back toward the Green Lady. Along the way, he wondered what had come over him. It wasn''t completely unlike him to get into fights on impulse. He had proven himself a fair share of times in the previous age against all manner of enemies, and today''s fight was yet another proving ground. His experience today and recently with the trolls proved that part of him was still alive and well. He supposed his actions were the cost of acting on instinct, but still, he''d need to be more intentional moving forward.


    However, Rhys''s behavior also wore away at that part of him that tolerated no insult, and seeing those men harass that halfling, a wave of emotions and memories washed over him. At the time, fighting seemed appropriate, even righteous. And that was concerning to Abad. When had he ever been righteous?


    As the thought arose, his scroll unfurled.


    <hr><hr>


    [A Flicker of Light]: In a moment of defiance against your darker instincts, you chose compassion over indifference, stepping into the fray to save a life that would have otherwise been lost. This small act of mercy marks a turning point, a subtle shift toward a path you never thought you’d tread.


    You have gained the [Elven Grace] Elf Talent.


    [Elven Grace]: Your elven heritage gifts you with heightened reflexes, allowing you to react faster than most mortals. This talent provides a boost to all evasion and movement perks, you are sure-footed in all manner of environments, and your footsteps are nearly silent.


    You have unlocked the maximum number of talents for the [Elf] racial class. You may now unlock a class specialization by finding and completing a class specialization quest.


    You reach level XII.


    Choose an Enhancement:


    <ul>


    <li>


    [Evasion I]: Your reflexes improve to match those of a wild predator, such as a lynx or cheetah. You gain an increase in reaction speed and agility, allowing you to better dodge attacks and move fluidly.


    </li>


    <li>


    [Intellect I]: Your mind becomes as sharp as that of a practiced scholar, enabling quicker analysis and improved memory retention. This enhancement bolsters your ability to solve problems and navigate complex scenarios with precision


    </li>


    <li>


    [Focus I]: Your awareness of your own body and mind deepens, akin to the self-mastery of a disciplined monk. This enhancement improves your ability to resist mental influence, endure pain, and maintain composure in challenging situations.


    </li>


    </ul>


    <hr><hr>


    Despite his vow to take an intellect perk when he had the opportunity, he decided on [Evasion I]. He''d have time to study eventually, but he wouldn''t survive long enough to do so if he couldn''t weather fights against nobodies. Being able to defend himself seemed prudent.


    Remembering the crystal pouch he had taken from the thug, he pulled it out and counted the contents within. He laughed as the stones poured out of the pouch. There were over one hundred scintillating crystals in the pouch! Why take a low-paying job if he could simply rob the thieves who robbed the poor? He wondered if there was a fable about such a character. Abad-Shai, Saver of Halflings, Fighter of Thugs, Collector of Ill-Gotten Gains. It certainly had a good ring to it.


    But no. He would never be anything so goodly. That would be too far against his nature.


    He slipped the pouch back into his pocket and looked over at the tower that topped the hill. He had noticed it for the first time when he was exploring earlier that day. It was beautiful, built from pure white marble. There was a large walled estate at the bottom of it, and even from blocks away, he could make out the massive steel-bound gate surrounding the walled estate. He decided he wanted to investigate it.


    He hopped down from the roof with more ease than when he had jumped up and began to make his way back to the Green Lady. As he did, another question came to mind. Why had Keila''s fellows been harassing the man in the first place? From the way Keila had talked about it, her patron took many vassals but prioritized people who had skills and talents useful to him. The men he had fought on the south side of town had none of those things. Likewise, if the men Rhys was talking to also were Bolton''s vassals, it was clear that the man took in the lowest dregs of society. How did that work into Keila''s version of things? Or, conversely, why would she lie? Even if he had been considering taking her up on her offer to join them, his mind was firmly made up now.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    As he approached the tower, he noticed several guards armed with pikes and armor keeping watch atop the walls surrounding the estate. Not seeing any immediate threat from them, he looked through the gate. In the courtyard between the house and the walls, there was a statue of a woman. She had long flowing hair and a gown of billowing cloth that seemed to twist with an imagined wind. In her outstretched hand was a fruit of some kind, and upon her head, a crown. He stared at the sculpture in awe for a moment, curious how an immaculately crafted statue could have ended up in such a dumpy town at the edge of nowhere. The craftsmanship was immaculate.


    "Beautiful, isn''t she?" A soft male voice rumbled several feet behind him. He hadn''t heard or seen anyone approach. Abad turned to see who spoke.


    Standing nearby was an elderly man with pale skin. His head was shaved bald, making it easy to see every line etched into the man''s forehead and under his sharp green eyes, and he wore a neatly trimmed beard. The man had thin lips and a firm jawline that was marred by a long scar that cut a furrow in his beard. A robe hung loosely across his shoulders and fell all the way to the ground, which surprised Abad because it meant he hadn''t heard the sound of fabric brushing against the road''s surface. Most striking of all, however, was the necklace the man wore, hanging over top of the plain robe. It was made of links of finely crafted chains and embedded with emeralds. Unlike anything Abad had seen in weeks, his finely-cut clothing was far nicer than anything he had seen in town.


    "Yes," he answered cautiously. The older man had an aura about him. He exuded authority in every regard, and there was a twinkle in his eyes that made the warlock curious. Abad could feel his mana from ten yards away. "She really is." The man looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn''t place him.


    "You like art?" The older man smiled.


    "I enjoy all manner of finer things in life. Art included, though I have little knowledge of more modern pieces. Perhaps you can enlighten me regarding this piece?"


    "That woman was the founder of this town. She built it and guided the original settlers here after freeing them from enslavement. She was known as Lady Phyn Civilia to most, but to the commoners of the town, she was known simply as Lady Fortune." He smiled. "She really was stunningly beautiful." The old man shifted and stretched before gesturing down the lane. "Could I buy you a drink, stranger?"


    Abad nodded hesitantly, then followed the man. After walking several blocks, Abad spoke up. "Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"


    The man either pretended to ignore or didn''t hear that question. "And what brings you to Farnfoss?"


    "I wandered in. Nothing more."


    "I see." The elder''s words seemed heavy to Abad''s ears. "You''re the one who was attacked by the trolls, correct?"


    Abad''s feet stopped moving. "And you know this how?" He pulled up mana from his spirit. He was willing to use violence if he needed to, though he was quite certain the man would swat him away like a fly with the amount of mana radiating from his spirit. The dwarf must have told the man about Abad''s identity. He would have been far more careful, but since they had sent Keila to pick him up, he hadn''t been able to fashion a new disguise at the time.


    "No need for alarm, Mr. Abad. Information is my trade." The man looked over his shoulder, smiled, and waved him on. "I have nothing but goodwill toward you, so please quell that surge of mana I feel roiling inside you."


    Abad blinked in surprise. He released his mana but remained ready in case he needed to draw on it. "Well, in that case, tell me more about yourself."


    "There isn''t much to say. I am a simple man of many years who makes it his business to know what happens in the world, and occasionally, if someone interests me, I send an invitation for a meeting." His tone changed slightly, growing warmer. "However, you are interesting enough that I came personally."


    "Should I feel honored?"


    "That''s up to you. Ah, here we are." The man ducked down an alleyway and the smell of roasted duck filled Abad''s nose. Scanning the area with every sense he could, he didn''t sense any threats, so he followed. Down the alleyway, a flight of stairs descended into the ground. Torches lined the walls of the tunnel as it stretched almost fifteen yards forward before ending at an archway. Inside was a large room where several patrons were seated in large, comfortable chairs situated around private booths set into the walls. Tapestries dampened their conversations so that little sound traveled across the room, causing even Abad''s sensitive ears to not be able to pick up much of anything.


    Abad turned back to the man, but despite the two of them being close to one another, he found his host already seated and waving the warlock over. Again, the man was silent, and fast. He was certainly more than he appeared to be.


    Taking a seat in a large plush chair across from the man, he waited for the man to continue the conversation. When he didn''t, he tried small talk. "Your establishment, I assume?"


    A soft smile played on the man''s lips. "Yes, it is." A serving girl approached. "Two whiskies, please." She nodded and vanished. "I do apologize for being so cryptic, but I detest when others overhear conversations I am interested in. This is a safe space to speak."


    "It doesn''t bother me. I feel much the same." Abad was waiting for any hook to sink into. Whiskey was a liquor that humans from the other world enjoyed. Was this man an otherworlder?


    "So, what business does one of the Seven have in Farnfoss?" the man asked as if he were asking Abad about the weather.


    Abad had to fight off the urge to burn the man alive right then and there. He might not be able to defeat him, but he''d cause as much pain as he could before he was gone. "The Seven? What is that?" He could tell the man didn''t buy it. Who was he?


    "Now, now, no need to play games, friend. As I said, I mean you no harm. Now, let''s start over, shall we?" The man waved his hand, and Abad felt his [Mask of Many Faces] fade away. The serving girl brought their drinks but didn''t bat an eye at his true appearance. She didn''t even give an indication that it had changed. If Abad hadn''t been so concerned about the man sitting across from him, he would have been impressed by the display. "I''m surprised you haven''t guessed my identity, given what has transpired." A mug of water floated through the air and settled gently on the table as if held by unseen hands. "We met a few times, long ago. I''m a little offended you don''t remember me, though I suppose I don''t look much like I did."


    Abad hesitated for a moment longer, wracking his brain for the man''s identity, then it hit him like a lightning bolt. "Kasimir, High Mage of Saern, and the Hero''s brother."