Once upon a moonless night, in the piss-stained alley of a bulging city, where the eyes of magistrates and the footsteps of clergy never wander, a meeting takes place that could change the fate of the world.

"You were able to find one?"

A man's voice, ravaged by time, ash, and eldritch incantations does its best to whisper, but the hushed tone does nothing to hide his level of anticipation. His hooded figure continues to step out of the shadow sprawled across the ground like walking up from out of a basement, dim motes of deep purple light fading in and out of existence as he does. A long, black robe drags on the ground but does not collect any of the muck or filth that mottles the cobblestones. His steps, too, do not appear to disturb his surroundings as he comes to a halt just above a puddle of questionable liquid without so much as a ripple.

His name is Agmus Makamendius Broadway.

A woman whose face and figure would be worth every ounce of gold and pain it would cost to whisk away for ten private minutes, brushes the long and luxurious locks of silver hair out of her golden eyes. Her coquettish voice crawls through a perfect smile that thins her golden lips, "Took a little over two years and a good bit of mud work, but I got it done. Found him in a slave pit in the Repkenian Region, wasting away. Boy turns fifteen this month, his Tar-rot already activated. What I don't understand, is the card itself. It don't look too amazing to me, about as useless as a frying pan in your kitchen if you ask me."

The way she said Tarot like carrot caused the old man to whince internally, but he simply shakes his head, "Signa, the things you don't understand can fill vast libraries that span for miles. Conversely, the things I don't understand will fit neatly in that little head of yours with room to wiggle.

"I hired you to search and to find and you have done so admirably. Now, is that him squatting behind the barrel amongst the rat turds?"

A boy's head pops up from its hiding spot, mildly suprised to have been found so easily in the dark place behind the wooden barrel full of stagnant rain water. He's a handsome boy with olive skin and a mop of greyish-azure hair. His obsidian-colored eyes are wide for only a heartbeat before they drop to a tilted look of curiosity. A patched and re-patched tan, tunic shirt that would sit better on a large adult drapes loosely on the boy's thin frame. His dingy grey cloth pants had given up on any hope of being passed on after its current owner, almost ready to fall apart after a few more miles, but a thin length of rope as a belt barely keeps it up and together.

The woman gestures impatiently for him to come over and he moves with some pep in his step. The impromptu strips of leather tied to the bottom of said steps protected his feet from scrapes but did little to ward off the putrid water.

The old man eyes him up and down from beneath the hood of his robe, reaches into a sleeve, and pulls out a foot long, wooden stick with a shard of dark crystal attached to the far end.

"His name is--" the woman begins, but is interrupted by a click of the old man's tongue and a circular gesture of a finger.

"One moment. Turn around please, boy, so I can inspect your Class Core. Signa, give me back the wand I had you use to find him."

The boy doesn't hesitate to do so, revealing an unadorned rectangular tattoo made of four simple lines on his back just behind where the heart should be.

With a series of well rehearsed motions of the dark crystal wand, a wave of shadows washes over the alley, creating a barrier that from the interior appears to be a void of light. On the outside the curtain of shadows looks like the alley on any given night without the three people presently standing inside the barrier. Another flick of the stick causes a fifteen foot wide, intricate, magic circle to trace itself across the ground in irridescent lights with shapes forming within shapes, words spelling out in ancient runes, and cryptic heiroglyphics popping up in seemingly random locations.

Transfixed by the show of power, the woman hesitates to hand over the wand of ash colored wood with an emerald cut (rectangular in shape with a step-like design on the edges) clear crystal clasped by thin wooden tendrils growing from the end of the stick.

The old man snatches the wand away, shaking his head. This snaps the woman out of her trance and she clears her throat, "I-- er-- did what you said, and that's how I spied the Core you mentioned… but…"

"But what? What's wrong with it?"

He touches the new wand to the center of the rectangle tattoo, a ripple of rainbow colors like those that move across the surface of a soap bubble expand outward and the four simple lines on the boy's back glow the same multi colored lights. An image fills in the shape like someone pouring in paint, revealing the figure of a person walking down a dirt path with a small sack tied to the end of a long stick slung over their shoulder. Superimposed over the center of the picture is a small, faintly irridescent, black star like some kind of magical watermark.

"He's a one star, ain't he? That's what the black one is, isn't it? Ain't nothing special 'bout a one star." Signa protests with a light scoff. She jerks a thumb over her shoulder, "My own reversed Five of Pentacles is a six star Core and serves me well enough. What use is a Tar-rot ranked at a single star?"

"First of all--" the old man explains as he stows the clear crystal wand up a sleeve, "--it's pronounced, Tar-Oh, you illiterate trollop. Second, I didn't pay you to understand the machinations of my designs."

The old man sighs deeply before motioning to the boy, "Oh Signa, if only you could see what I see lies ahead--."

"--Begging your pardon, sir, but… Speaking of pay… The deposit you gave me was all well and good-- for a little while anyway-- but I believe its time for the rest. If you don't mind?"

With the light show over, the young boy pulls down his tunic shirt and watches in wonder as the old man plucks four, finger-length, rectangular coins out of thin air and fans them out with his thumb. The gleaming, platinum coins are embossed with the face of an ancient king on one side and two swords crossing under a single dragon's claw on the other. Just this display alone is more money than the other two members of the clandestine meeting had ever seen in their lives combined. The old man attempts to hand them over to Signa, but she reels back in apprehension.

"I do apologize, Agmus, but do you by chance have anything smaller for a couple of them slabs? Most places aren't too keen to make that much change for units so large and I don't want them bit-biters at the bank knowing I got my hands on this much… tax free income…"

The old man rolls his eyes under his hood, but Signa and the boy can practically feel the gesture. "Fine. One hundred gold and two thousand silver. Good enough for you? I doubt you'll be able to carry your money home if I break one down to copper as well."

Two of the platinum coins disappear and two sacks, one obviously larger than the other, are pulled from the void. The old man drops the rectangular coins in the smaller of the two sacks and holds both out to Signa.

"Well… Maybe one of the grins into bits so I can catch a carriage home without rousing too much suspicion, sir?"

The old man huffs, withdraws a single silver coin in the shape of a half circle and magically exchanges it for twenty thumbnail sized, quarter-circle copper pieces. These Signa quickly stuff into a robe pocket. For the two sacks, she pulls out a leather bag with a small tag marked with four, small, yellow stars. When she places them inside, the leather bag neither bulges nor sags as if she put in handfuls of air instead of sacks of coins.

The boy gawks at the magical bag and the old man nods his hooded head approvingly, "Is that what you spent my deposit on?"

"Part of it. I had other jobs to attend to and this little beauty helped out a lot. I can fit a whole suit of armor in here-- don't ask me how I know that." She gives the old man a wink and a grin. "Maybe now I can trade it in for a five or six star bag and get some real work done."

She turns to the boy and jerks a thumb at the old man, "Alright, youngin. You're off with 'Agmus Make-ah-my-bed' now. Best mind your manners or else he'll turn you into a squealer and fry you up for breakfast."

"It's Makamendius, you blasted buffoon. Furthermore, don't spend that all on anything too attention grabbing, like something eight or nine star. I don't need anyone looking for your benefactor."

She cackles merrily as she walks away from them and toward the dome of shadows, slinging the bag over her shoulder. With a prod of her well manicured finger the whole thing pops into magical dust and the illuminated circle at their feet blows away into nothingness from a magical breeze.

Without stopping she calls back to them over her shoulder, "Fling a note my way if you ever have need of my services, but don't bother inviting me over again. For a high level caster, your place is a real pigsty. Couldn't save a spot on your deck for some kinda cleaning essence?"

The boy turns to look at Makamendius for further instructions and finds him drawing a neon purple line into an oval in the air as large as his arm could reach using the dark crystal wand, ostensibly ignoring Signa's parting insult. He chants an incantation and the inside of the oval ripples into an image of what looks to be someone's grey brick living room. A red velvet recliner waits patiently for its owner to plop down into it and melt into its relaxing embrace, a blanket lying haphazardly on the floor next to it.

"Come on, boy, I wanna get home. There's a lot to do and much to discuss." He gestures the young man to hop into the portal first and follows him as he continues to speak. "First, you will address me as Agmus Makamendius, though for the sake of expediency and you're inevitable mispronunciation, you may use, instead, Agmus Mak. Agmus is a special honorific for one who has attained the highest spell tier of ten and mastered at least ten of that tier's spells."

The boy is barely listening as he takes inching steps through the portal, the feeling of moving through the surface of an icy cold pool of water slips over him front to back. His jaw drops as he meanders into the new location, eyes roving over all the magical tools, thousands of books, and countless mystical knick knacks lining shelves upon shelves upon shelves in a massive room that looked as though it could fit a couple small houses within it comfortably.

The stone room is lit by magical lamps on walls, pillars, and even random stands sprinkled about. Even though it appears expansive, the wooden beams overhead, paintings of nature, potted plants, and multiple hearths within view from the nearby recliner still manage to give the place a cozy feeling.

The forest of book piles, crates overflowing with wands, barrels o' scrolls, and a multitude of even more random and dusty things cluttering up the floor made the boy feel like he wandered into some kind of warehouse instead of someone's home. There might also have been a few armor stands teetering with hats, coats, and a rat's nest of shoes at their feet.

"This, as you can surmise, is my grand room. As astounding as this area is, I won't be spending much time in it. For now, anyway. This is actually the third floor of my tower, your area shall be the second floor, the kitchen and pantry being on the ground floor. You will not have access to the fourth, fifth, or sixth floors, but the seventh and eighth floors are open to you mainly for cleaning when I am not there. My room is the ninth floor, but I will inform you beforehand when you are allowed there.

"There is a basement level or three, it all depends on my needs at the time. Don't worry, boy, I have all this in writing for you to memorize later. You have much to learn, but first--" Mak whirls on the spot, his robes billowing as he thrusts an accusatory finger into the boy's face.

"What do you know about Class Cores and about yours in particular? The difference between spells and skills? Different essences? Has anyone ever told you about how to add them to your deck? The different suits: Action, Counter, Support, Summon, Boon? How about a Prial, Two-Pair, a Quad? Do you know what a Blank is? Because it looks like you're drawing one right now…"

The boy stares at him for a handful of rapid heartbeats with a vacant expression on his face. After the awkward spectre floats through the air between them, the boy simply shrugs his shoulders and offers hands, palms facing up and revealing his ignorance.

Mak eyes him like a snake spotting a limping mouse and a grin splits his grey beard, "Perfect…"