Aiolos paid little attention to the people around him as he wandered the crowded streets of Berlin. This was not so much a choice birthed of an unwillingness to talk, but rather an inability to do so; he didn’t know a lick of German. While Lucien was a settlement in the northern areas of Germany, the language of choice there was English. The only ones who knew German there were the select few who traded goods with the outside world, and Aiolos was not one of the fortunate few. There was another problem, however.

Aiolos was completely and utterly broke. When Aiolos left home a couple years back, he was in possession of what he considered pocket money. However, due to the enclosed nature of Lucien and a variety of other factors, Lucien’s currency was a rarity and had quite a bit of worth. Aiolos had managed to survive off of that up until now, but he had just blown his last euro and had no money to his name anymore.

He had no intentions of dying on the streets, however. While he did not like the thought of doing mercenary work, it seemed like the only option for him besides joining the military since he had no clue if his education held up with that of the outside world. Besides, he obtained an odd talent of sorts after the downfall of the Daeceran Manor.

Over the course of a few years, he had managed to overhear some conversations about mercenary work and, essentially, where to get it. The outside world was in no shortage of danger, even Aiolos knew that much, so of course people would act independently of the military and the like. Through contextual reasoning, he had managed to narrow down a few places where such “illegitimate” work could be found, and he had all intention of going there.

Momentarily clutching the rusted hilt of his family heirloom, he continued walking down the streets in search of his first destination.

While his memory was not the best, he managed to recall the place where he’d heard the two men talk; and alongside the memory of that place came memories of the atmosphere there. While the air there was most likely no different from the rest of Berlin, or Germany for that matter, something about it was noticeably different. It felt as if the atmosphere was much thicker. Oppressive, even. This trait made it stand out in Aiolos’ head. While he didn’t know the name of the area, Aiolos still more or less remembered the general direction he was supposed to go in.

With a vague sense of direction in mind, Aiolos’ feet carried him there.

Was this the sort of area the books he read talked about? One of those so-called “bad parts of town”? Aiolos pondered this question as he looked around. It seemed to be the right place, but frankly, he wasn’t sure. The café did seem quite welcoming, however; a far cry from the rest of the place, that was for sure. However, in a place like this, there was no telling what could happen. One of his biggest concerns were thievery; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself if his family heirloom was somehow stolen.

Aiolos made sure to strap the rusted blade tighter to his back as a result of this concern. Additionally, he began to create something within his shadow with his birth magi. He’d tested his limits for a while, and he couldn’t create anything complex or anything weighing more than 1 kilogram. However, what he created would consist almost entirely of red flames, so coming into contact with it would certainly hurt. So creating a large amount of something with little mass and complexity would be ideal.

For this reason, he decided to create something that could work in a defensive manner while also being offensively capable. The base of his design would be the average housefly, with an average mass of around 12 milligrams. Being able to fly up to 8km/h is nice for an animal only 0,6 centimeters in length, but more speed would be a necessity if he were to use them offensively. Upsizing them wouldn’t do much, but modeling the houseflies traits to be far more aerodynamic would be a good start. Additionally, an extra set of wings at a certain angle would better their acceleration speed, but an increase in mass would also be necessary to take the speed they’d be packing.

Aiolos kept thinking like that until he came upon a design he quite liked. Based on the average housefly, this creation weighed around 50 milligrams, was 2 centimeters long and could fly up to 25km/h at top speed. Packing four insectoid wings and a much more aerodynamic design, it had a decent mix of speed and defense for the time being. And now that he could visualize its entire form, it’d take less than a second to create one, and he could maintain 20,000 of them without a hassle!

While their speed certainly was impressive, however, their actual attack damage was pathetic. The only actual threat they’d serve would be as a distraction or to overwhelm with numbers. Even then, though, they would hardly deal any damage at all, even to an unarmored person. Additionally, their defenses were equally, if not even more pathetic. Impact with any solid substance would practically snuff them out, not to mention the obvious threat of liquids. However, they would serve their purpose well.

After a solid 10 minutes of wandering around the area while bringing life to his new creations within his shadow, Aiolos finally entered the café.

Aiolos noticed the wriggling sensation of his shadow. Something had happened to his shadow as he entered the building, but he didn’t worry too much. Worst case scenario was that his ability had been disabled or something to that extent, but he wasn’t too worried. Whether this lack of worry was due to recklessness, courage, or something else entirely, he didn’t know. What he did know, however, that he stood only a few meters from his potential road to glory and restoring the Daeceran family to its former glory.

Taking his first steps inside the café - or rather pub, as it were - Aiolos noticed the song playing. He could vaguely remember a caravan playing this song more than a decade ago when it came to visit Lucien. It was not one he knew by heart, however, but he simply noted it’s vague familiarity.

He walked up to the bar with little hesitation and examined the man behind the counter as he took a seat on one of the stools, not paying much attention to the arguing couple.

“Do you speak English?”

Well, this was awkward. Aiolos had taken a gamble and lost. The barkeep didn’t know English and was now handing a menu to a man without any money. Declining the menu with a gentle gesture of the hand, Aiolos tried scrambling together what little German he knew. “Ehh, ich Arbeit... Hmm...” Aiolos stuttered, clearly scrambling through his mind to find the right words. “Hem, ich bin such- suchen? Ich bin Arbeit suchen?” He said, hoping his point had come across somehow. In an attempt to emphasize what kind of work he was looking for, he pointed to the spearblade on his back; his family heirloom.

Aiolos managed to slip in a wordless apology as well for his agitation before turning his attention to the old man. The way Aiolos’ emotions behaved was uncharacteristic of him. Maybe he was getting to his wits end?

More probable, however, was the old mans involvement in the phenomenon. While Aiolos only knew tiny sprinkles of German, the brief expression of fear on the barkeeps face spoke a thousand words; this old man was someone to be feared. Perhaps he had an ability like Aiolos? Or maybe, he was simply a figure of some sort of authority with skill to match. After all, a well-polished skill is indistinguishable from magic,

There was no point in just sitting there and pondering the possibilities, however. Aiolos took to his feet and went over to the old man, hoping he could help.

“Please tell me you can speak English,”