---Some time prior to the day of meeting...
Several people, from different towns, professions and backgrounds, would have somehow received similar contact with a mysterious, unknown benefactor. Instructions, beside a large sum of gold and some other, unimportant formalities, would be as follows.

---

Dawn of the First Day...

The sun was rising in the Kingdom of Mortis. Gentle sunlight lovingly trails its warm fingers across the expansive countryside of the chasm-ridden nation, reaching to places that were left unmarred by nature and man alike, following seldom-travelled roads until it reached the simple township of Blackford.

It was far from the Capital, an out-of-the-way destination that very few travellers would ever have to pass through. Despite this, the wooded village served as something of a hub for all of the small, surrounding settlements, and sported a humble prosperity that could only be found in a country as rich as the one they lived in.

Wisps of fog rise from the ground and river as sparkling light illuminates their surfaces, revealing sights of untouched natural beauty all around, just waiting to be disturbed by some intrepid hare or fox. The nearby town had just begun its daily routine, as its occupants let out a large, collective yawn and opened up their windows to let in a cool, summer morning breeze.

'Today would be a warm day', many thought, 'but not overly so'. The weather was nice.

These thoughts coincided with those of one individual in particular. An elderly, but undeniably beautiful old woman who sat, quietly braiding her hair and looking up in the direction of the rising sun.

She knew that there would be people arriving today, for a goal which she could likely never understand in her lifetime. She knew this much, because she had been told, by an individual who seemed as mysterious as they were wealthy. Even now, she had to resist the curiosity peeling at the back of her skull, tempting her to go and check the sealed envelope she knew was resting in the next room.

But, for as much as she knew the contents of that envelope would likely amaze and surprise her, she knew that attempting to read these stranger's letter would be a fatal, and undeniably foolish move. So, she would pour her drinks, and make her food, providing what hospitality she could for those who would come.

For this was her duty.

And so, she waited. Waited patiently for the chosen few, whose patron had given her that grand sack of coins. They would certainly arrive today, she surmised from the contents of her own letter. They would, or they would give up any chance of being trusted with their mission.

What is "magic"?

This question is one with an answer that, even now, is not known. The word "magic" has come to be entirely vacuous, as occult scholars fritter away with the recent events that have indicated the return of that arcane force. It is impossible to say what magic is, for it is something that you, as a "person", can never hope to truly comprehend.

Magic is something not-human. Magic is something Other. Magic is something transcendent. Magic is something "wrong".

You cannot understand something that is so alien. Your mind cannot weather itself against memories that go beyond what it means to be human.

As a result, magic is not a force. Magic is not a blessing. Magic is not a damnation. Magic is not an idea. Magic is not a concept.

Magic is magic. That is all it can ever be, for the second you take a step outside of that tautological hole, you pay the penalty that lies past the veil of magic. Your mind cannot afford for magic to be anything besides magic.

...however, what if someone's mind is every bit as not-human as this magic?

Humans have moods, vacillations, temperaments, ideals, despairs, hopes. They are a tapestry of mind and body, woven together in an unending dance. So then, something every bit as tautological as the forced human-definition of magic would be equally not-human.

She walked forwards, stopping in front of the predetermined inn. "The Black Foot". Others were being gathered there, termed by the benefactor as her "companions", and yet she already knew the truth. As she entered the inn, she withdrew a coin given to her by the aforementioned benefactor, and spoke to the innkeeper.

"-I'm here for Room Four. Are my sidekicks here yet?"

In this existence's mind, it was not a hero. No, it was something beyond concepts of heroism and morals. It was a hero who possessed "plot armor". It was a main character.

And so, the curtain opened on the adventure of a delusional woman with a silver tongue and a long-winded title. Amelia Alviss, the number one occult expert in the Kingdom of Mortis.

It is for this reason that a being with a mind that is not-human has assigned a definition to magic. Surpassing the limits of "human", she has accomplished this feat as easily as breathing.

Magic is "something fun".

Magic is "something entertaining".

Magic is "something I am an expert of".

And perhaps, most centric of all...

-Magic is "all about the money, money, money".

We don't need your money, money, money.

We just want to make the world dance.

Forget about the price tag.

A gloved hand gripped the knob of door to the Black Foot, and pushed inwards. Entering the establishment was an ominous figure clad in voluminous robes and a beaked mask, the telltale garb of a plague doctor. Politely closing the door behind him, Doctor Variel Ventris Septimus looked around the warm, homely environs that entailed an inn, drinking in the candlelit hardwoods, the presumed keeper behind the bar, and the humble architecture through unfeeling glass portholes. He perked up and thoughtfully stilled as he heard something interesting, then quickly moved to join the blonde at the counter, intending on capitalizing upon this chance.

"What a coincidence," came his muffled voice on approach. "I am also here for Room Four. Hm," he mused, as he settled himself on a stool and regarded his two potential customers, "you two look like healthy women indeed, although I could not help but notice that your complexions seemed a bit... wan, from afar."

Time for the killing blow. The good doctor slipped a hand under the flap of his satchel. "Which is why I was wondering if either of you would be interested in therapeutic snake oil," he said, procuring two corked vials of the liquid. "It has been proven, proven," he repeated, "to result in skin radiance in women, and I will testify to this with my own eyes, for my patrons have never been unsatisfied with any of their purchases coming from me. If you are still doubtful, then I am Doctor Septimus -- if my name and title lend any weight to my attestations."

"So, interested? Are you, miss?" He held the vials close to Amelia's countenance, then proffered them to the presumed innkeeper. "What about you, miss? It is cheap: only one penny's worth of cheap. Two if you wish for skillful application at the hands of a professional."

Lady Vehrna Solinus

Vehrna sighed deeply as she took in the... Er, sights. As much as it irritated her, she couldn't let go of certain... traits of her nobility. Such as a disinterest in such... simple places as Blackford. It was not disdain, however. Indeed, she would guess her siblings would constantly complain about such a place. No, she understood on a basic level that this was a rather nice village. Clean, peaceful, well-maintained... It just lacked a certain... opulence. Maybe she just wasn't as free from the desire of pointless luxuries as she thought? Perhaps she just needed more time to adjust, was all.

The Inn, however, was a different matter. This building unnerved her, it seemed menacing. But... She doubted she would feel that way if she hadn't received these orders she had been given. She was still wary of them, after all. Was this an elaborate plot to murder her? She had acquired a small amount of renown, but not the sort that would attract assassins... At least, that's what she thought. While she did not need the coin necessarily, she did know one thing; if the job payed this well, it was bound to be important. She had ruled out that the job would be... Immoral. You could hire a lowlife to do it for far less, and still have him convinced you're paying him a fortune. No, they needed a Knight. She took a deep breath, marching across the street and through the door.

Now, there was a subtle distinction between an Inn and a Tavern. An Inn was a place for travelers to rest that provided food and short-term living arrangements. A Tavern was where lowlifes went to get drunk and then pass out. She hated Taverns with a passion, they were an absolute nightmare for her. All because she was a woman, and a pretty one at that... or so she was told. Drunks trying to court her, drunks picking fights with her because they thought her weak, even more drunks attempting to con her because they thought her stupid... And to say nothing of the attempted gropes. No sir, you didn't just 'bump into me'! Inns however, were far less of an ordeal. And it was clear this place was truly an Inn. That being said, there were dangers.

The most pressing issue, was how much she stood out from the common man. She was tall for one, and her immaculately polished armor was another. Fancy armor? Knight. Knight? Noble. Noble? wealthy. Pickpockets were such a problem that she had to keep her coin in increasingly convoluted hiding spots. Today, in her boot. Obvious, yes, but impossible to steal without her noticing. The place was mostly empty however, the benefits of arriving early in the morning. There seemed to be a pair of other patrons, a... child by the looks, and an apothecary. She was slightly unnerved by his attire, but she had heard that diseases could potentially be repelled with such an outfit. Besides, if he was... unsavory, it would be easy to subdue him.

He appeared to be peddling... Oh, great. Another of these fools. 'Cure-alls' and the like. It made her sick, taking advantage of one's vanity like that for profit... Not that she hadn't bought any such products herself. Not to use, mind. Indeed, she would toss them out as soon as she was out of sight. No, she found buying a bottle to be the only way to get them to... well, be silent. Polite refusals were only met with aggressive insistence, a more belligerent approach merely disturbed the peace... No, she had more than enough coin to spare, a bottle here and there was a non-issue. Unfortunately, she had forgotten the detail that she would have companions on this quest... the thought that either of those two could be travelling with her was not considered. "Good morn, Madam." She said, slightly bowing her head politely as she slid her coin across the counter. "I Was given this coin and instructed to ask for the fourth room of this establishment... Am I mistaken?" She asked, her expression serious, with a certain sincerity to it... Clearly, the thought that maaaybe this job was supposed to be kept as low-key as possible was lost on her.

"A dog speaking so presumptuously to me? What a novelty."

Amelia's voice cut through the doctor's comments moments after they were made, the renowned occult expert casting a displeased lilt to her tone as though she were a king speaking to a disobedient subject.

"Consider yourself blessed to be appointed as the assistant to myself. If you're blind, have been living on an alternate plane of existence, or have undergone some crippling brain injury and so were unable to recognize me on face, I am Amelia Alviss, the greatest occult expert in this kingdom. You may begin thanking your torture fetishist god for this opportunity. I'm in a generous mood, so I won't even charge you for having a poor enough sense of humor to suggest that I require your half-baked fraudulent schemes, or that they can improve on already-existing perfection."

This was an existence that had already surpassed the very premise of good and evil. This was the height of megalomania itself! Prostrate yourselves, lest you be overcome by the unending sprawl.

In order to punctuate the end of her statement, Amelia rocked back on her heels for a moment before stretching up, and knocking the good doctor on the beak of his plague mask, as though scolding a dog. That would show him. However, just as quickly as she had done this, Amelia's attention was averted upon the arrival of another individual.

"Oh? Have you been appointed as my assistant as well?" Amelia interjected abruptly, looking over the female knight with a terse expression and going quiet for several seconds before nodding. "Yes, yes, you'll do just fine. You have a good basis, that will be useful for this. Useful indeed."

Of course, Amelia had not the slightest idea what "this" was, nor who had gathered a set of people here for "this". It probably had something to do with occult things though; why else would they request for her glorious presence? That's logic right there, kids. Be sure to take notes.

Cayl entered the inn as his usual radiant self. It was a fine new day after all, and an adventure was waiting for him somewhere in this establishment. The hour was early and there were only a couple of people in the room - fancy looking types, not your usual folk around the town. But it was to be expected that all kinds of travelers, be it knights in shining armor or ominous plague doctors, would walk in for a refreshment or perhaps a place to rest. A quick glance was all the attention he gave the bunch, though, as he was too caught up in his own thoughts. It had been an eternity since he last visited a guesthouse; it's musty atmosphere was something to get used to. After all, clear sky was the roof Cayl preferred to have over his head.

He had been up before sunrise, keeping an eye on the town to catch anything suspicious. The message he had received was... strange, to put it lightly, though one should have been convinced of it's validity based on the amount of gold that came along. The gold that now, in large part, was stashed away. Cayl had never seen such a large sum of money before and had no idea how to spend it. Aside from the occasional piece of clothing, buying arrows was about the only thing he needed money for. Indeed, that was the way he was contacted as well. There were three fletchers around Mortis that Cayl frequented, perhaps his only perennial connection the the civilized world. "Some parcel boy" had apparently left a package for him in the hands of one of the craftsmen. In it a single unique coin, a bag of gold, the letter and a map with a handwritten note at the foot. The latter was apparently added in case Cayl was unfamiliar with the "given human names of places".

With the innkeeper occupied by the lady in metal armor, Cayl stood back, fiddling the coin in his hand. He now gave the trio a longer, almost measuring look. One of them was noticeably more noisy than the others, though what actually came out of that small mouth hers, Cayl still didn't notice. From the looks of things, she was asserting some kind of a dominance over the other with her vaunted poise and imposing impression. It didn't seem to have much of an effect, though. The other woman was more concerned about retaining her stern posture and the man... well... Cayl couldn't quite make out what he was up to under all that clothing, but it ought to have been something shady.