The aged bartender threw a weary glance over the two young women by his bar, and silently poured them both a glass. 
“I can’t say too much, lass.” He then pointedly poured himself half a tumbler of scotch, the glass noticeably growing over with frost and took a reserved sip. “I never did finish my own. Outside the five lieutenants, I don’t think anyone has even gotten close.” 

He nodded towards a picture, lovingly framed on the wall out of sight of any wayward customers. It was a black and white photo of seven people. Ashur and Zephyr were smiling, pointing their fingers at the much more decrepit version of the Winchester at their backs; Kron was brooding at the edge half turned to the camera – so obviously forced to be there. Naya and Klein were both half crouched In front, with reserved smiles on their faces, while a much rougher-looking Maggie and Klaus stood at the back, expressions filled with a mix of joy and awkwardness – no doubt as a result of so obviously ill-fitted uniforms they wore. The shadowy outline of the spectre could barely be seen, looming behind the group, only the white of his crooked smile giving any feature to his shadow. A brass plaque beneath the frame read only two words, inscribed in pleasant cursive: ‘New Age’. 

Klaus sighed and took another sip, continuing on.

“You see kids, all of us here, in this place; we came here for a reason. Some were rescued by master Arbos and his apprentices off the streets. Some sought him out to try and push back against Xelith. But ultimately, to all of us, this place has become our home.  And the art you’ll try and learn… it won’t allow you that. The hunt for charges and techniques… it will take you all over the world. You will never settle down if you want to continue growing.” 

He placed the glass down with a saddened smile. “And that is why most can’t do it. I travelled with his majesty for three months, gaining and losing new comrades week by week… Gods, at one point there were twenty five of us! And in those short short three months the training took us from the furnaces of Hethus in the west, to the icy caverns of Cormendale in the east. We fought everything from garden variety bandits to giant spiders, crazed cultists, flesh eating moss and invisible tigers… Some died. Most gave up. It’s almost too much for mortal men to handle lass. Hell, even some of the apprentices…” 

His voice trailed off. 

“Ah, look at me ramble. What I’m saying lass is that despite what his majesty might say, there is no shame in walking away if you find it too hard. After all, there is a reason why only one man has ever truly ‘mastered’ it.” 
Klaus then shook his head and once again refilled the glasses of both girls. 

[hr]

Naya knocked on the door and walked in carefully. 
The room she stood in was something vastly different from anything else inside the Winchester. Most of the furniture and relish was made of crystal or glass with filigree of pure gold. Runes, glowing dimly in the twilight, covered every single surface in neat, tight script.  At the centre of the lavish suite stood a chair (if one can even call it that, as it resembled a throne more than anything) made entirely of null crystals. Ranging from tiny ones, set into ornate and runic golden fittings, to massive ones the size of a grown Cauhri’s arm, that made up the bulk of the form.
 Somewhere at the base of it deep within a bright golden flame raged – its licks travelling along inside the crystals, giving the whole construction an ethereal, almost living look. A small glass table stood by the seat, looking almost plain when compared to what rested on top of it: A plain silver flask, covered in runes and a glass of pure blue fire. 

Naya blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things, cause she could have sworn there was no actual glass there, and the flame was simply maintaining the form of the glass by itself. Arbos (well, who else could this have possibly been, eh?) stretched in his throne, then reached out for the glass and took a satisfied sip.

 -  “Heeeey, thunderpussy! What took your furry ass so long?” He asked with a smirk.
 -  “The security was a bit tighter than expected. And I told you to stop calling me that!” The Selkie stepped forward carefully.
 -  “And since when do I give a fuck about what you useless morons think?” Arbos raised an eyebrow. “Anyway, good job on finding those girls for me.  They have some good potential… even the one that the sparkly bastard brought.” He shook his head dejectedly. “Seriously, remind me to whoop that village idiot’s arse, I told him specifically not to mess with that kind of stuff. Bah! …Anyway, which one of those girls is yours? Please tell me it’s the one taking a bath right now.” Arbos’s eyes flashed golden as he looked towards Thea’s room. “Cause she’s a damn sight saucier than you are.” 

Naya groaned loudly. “Oh for fuck’s sake… If that stops you from sneaking up on me while I’m bathing I’m all the more for it! And what do you mean which girl? Mine’s a guy, named Corvo.” 
 -  “Mmmhm? Sorry kitty, no guys were there, just girls.”
Naya blinked, letting her jaw hang open. Then whirled up in fury.
 -  “Wha? That stupid fucking idiot! I’m gonna go get him! Sorry!”
 -  “Wait.” Arbos raised his hand. “Once you find that Corben-or-whatever dude, have one of you spirits guide him back here, and you yourself go and find Alistair. He should be in the butcher’s district right now setting up for our next step… take over and send him back here.”
 -  “But I was going to take a shower and-“
 -  “Do I LOOK like I give a shit? Go on, sod off.”
Naya humphed angrily, then reluctantly nodded in agreement and disappeared out the door.

Arbos felt her leave his zone with the speed of a bullet and sighed, taking the ‘glass’ of the ethereal flame into his hand once more. Throwing a glance at the silver flask on the table he smiled grimly. “Looks like the symphony of destruction you spoke of is finally starting, eh, brother mine?.. Too bad my orchestra is filled with morons.” He murmured to himself and downed the entire ‘glass’ in one swig.