“Yo, heard you made some commotion?”

  The raspy voice of the chimera would never be pleasant to Simon’s ears. It was, however, a necessary expense because this man was essentially a bulletin board for any mercenary looking to make a name for themselves.

  Wreathe used to be a sorcerer of considerable fame, but now he was a job broker for independent mercenaries in the area.

  “Eh, just a couple of kids looking for an easy mark. You know how it is.”

  Wreathe chuckled.

  “You know, I would not call anyone of the third order ‘strong’. But a group of them from Uni-Riders is anything but a ‘couple of kids’.”

  Simon just waved him off.

  “Any fourth order worth their salt could kick their teeth in without much effort.”

  The man, in the form of a monster, raised his one large eye, making it hard to tell whether it was due to surprise or disagreement.

  “Uh huh. And the average fourth-order can instantly cast a fourth-order spell?”

  Simon let out a huff.

  “Where is this all coming from? Why the sudden interest?”

  Wreathe shrugged his right wing and left arm.

  “Evaluation. I like keeping a dossier on the people who take jobs from me. Makes it easy to assign the right jobs. And I don’t appreciate being lied to.”

  There was venom in those words.

  Simon’s hackles rose.

  “What do you mean?”

  He asked cautiously.

  “There is no need to get uppity with me. Hiding your real power from me just makes me give you smaller, lower-paying jobs.”

  Wreathe answered back.

  “I keep on the level, and my lips stay sealed on all the mercs. Isn’t that why you came to me in the first place?”

  Simon knew Wreathe was trying to sound disarming, but his voice and form made that nigh impossible. Only prolonged interaction with the man made Simon realize the intention.

  He nodded.

  “I didn’t lie, though,” Simon said, unsure where the accusation came from.

  “Yes, you said you were a fourth-order mage with some skill. You left out the fact that you were an elite fighter with an instant spell.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Wreathe answered his unspoken thoughts.

  “The incident at the warehouse job, that strike against the croc, and now scaring those Uni-Riders. The average fourth order can’t do what you do. Be straight with me. Are you a combat vet?”

  Simon’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “Oh no, nothing like that. Combat-focused magic training is fucking brutal. I can’t just silently cast any spell in under a second. It's just a trick.”

  Wreathe’s eyes narrowed.

  “You are not lying, which only makes this weirder.”

  “Look, your recent success caught the eyes of some powerful employers. And they want to know what you can do. If you give me nothing, what am I supposed to tell them?”

  Any other time, Simon would have answered by telling them nothing. But…

  “My true spell allows me to cast a physical enhancement spell at my highest level instantly. I can also cast flame rays and a barrier in about a second each. I can also maintain these spells near indefinitely.”

  ‘Yes! Make the world aware of my power!’

  ‘Doors will open for us.’

  ‘It may be unwise.’

  Wreathe whistled.

  “Three trump cards, huh. Short of someone with an Arcane Domain, you are probably the strongest fourth order around.”

  It was Simon’s turn to whistle.

  “Really… That’s surprising…”

  He was competent; that was a core belief. But to be called the strongest around had to be a stretch.

  “Look, man. I don’t know where you’re from, but from the way I see it, you can suckerpunch the average mage before they can even begin to think about casting a spell. That makes you dangerous and, in your line of work, that makes you desirable.”

  Simon guessed it was because this was a more localized circuit, so they were not aware just how strong a fourth order could be. He knew of mages who could vaporize entire buildings with a fourth-order spell.

  However, what he did not realize, especially as Wreathe was not so forthcoming, was the change in what constituted a powerful mage. Simon was focused on the outcome of a spell, not the time required to cast it.

  The spells he imagined were all grand rituals that needed hours of prep before being cast. In a street brawl, you did not have hours; you had seconds. Sure, some people from his past could fast cast, but those were never their strongest spells.

  Even the fourth orders that were instant cast generally tended to be weaker than the real hard-hitting ones. All his strongest spells fell into this ‘weak’ category in his head, which meant he did not have a real trump card.

  There was truth to his line of thought, but it lacked context. Despite his reputation and adaptation to the mercenary life, it had to be said that he had been at this for less than a year. So certain nuances were still beyond him.

  “Now that you know, got anything for me?” Simon asked as the silence between them stretched for almost too long.

  “Yeah, a client for The Heart district needs a bruiser, and you got recommended. Do you want it?”

  Wreathe said as he pulled out his phone, revealing a writhing mass of skittering, stick-thin limbs where his left arm should be.

  “The pay?” Simon asked.

  “Boy, you are in the big leagues; you don’t just get whatever I think is fair, you get to negotiate the pay directly with the client. Just know that I will take 5% of the earnings, post-expenses, of course.”

  Simon scratched his head at the proclamation.

  “Never did anything like that, any idea of the ballpark?”

  Wreathe nodded in understanding.

  “30 grand minimum, hell, they will probably offer you more. It's your job to push it as high as you can without pissing them off. Though I would recommend not going over 100k.”

  Simon audibly gulped at the price; the Draco bills were over twice what he got for the warehouse job, and that was after he took in the bonus.

  It did not matter what he had to do; the job was as good as done.

  Oh, how Simon would later regret that decision.