Jamie flashed a mischievous smile. "You'll find out tomorrow."

Sensing that Jamie preferred to keep his plans under wraps, Thomas decided not to press further. Instead, he chose to wait patiently for the next day's class to uncover what his friend had in mind.

The journey back to the city was tranquil. As they arrived at the academy's terrace, the practical lessons had concluded. Students were going back into the fortress to their next class.

Passing through the towering gates, Jamie and Thomas stepped once more onto the bustling main avenue of the Commercial Quarter. The street was alive with energy—vendors meandered on either side, their voices a chorus as they battered whatever they were buying or selling.

Yet, Jamie was oblivious to the vibrant scene around him. His mind was elsewhere, wrapped in a tapestry of thoughts and ideas. He was piecing together a complex puzzle, drawing from the well of his experiences—the books devoured, the lessons learned, the moments that had shaped him into the person he was. He poured all this knowledge into a vast, metaphorical alembic, distilling his knowledge in hopes of crafting something potent and captivating. Something that would both enchant and challenge those students.

"What is that?" Thomas's question jolted Jamie from his reverie.

Blinking, Jamie followed his friend's gaze. Near one of the bustling squares stood a group of children. They were thin, their clothes tattered and worn, eyes sharp and watchful. Despite their ragged appearance, they weren't pickpocketing or causing trouble as one might expect. Instead, they were actively engaged in selling something.

"Let's take a look," Jamie suggested, curiosity piqued as he started toward them.

As they approached, the children's voices rose above the din of the marketplace.

"Wars in the West!"

"Templars moving South!"

"New Monster Rush in the Holy Empire and the capital!"

Each child shouted different headlines, their calls sharp and urgent, capturing the attention of even the most hurried passersby. People who might typically avoid such street urchins found themselves drawn in, pockets rummaging for coins in exchange for the latest news.

As Jamie and Thomas approached the commotion near the marketplace, the clamor of the busy street faded into the background. A cluster of street children had gathered at the corner, their faces smudged with dirt but eyes alight with ambition. Clutched in their hands and scattered around their feet were bundles of ashen-gray papers, the edges fluttering in the mild breeze.

'Are those newspapers?' Jamie wondered. 'Until a few days ago, we didn't have anything like this.'

One of the children, a skinny lad with tousled hair and a gap-toothed grin, stepped forward eagerly. "Care for a newspaper, sir?" he piped up, holding out a folded stack. "Only ten silver coins."

"That's expensive," Thomas remarked skeptically, casting a doubtful glance at the boy.

"But sir," the child insisted, his tone earnest and eyes wide with the practiced innocence of a seasoned vendor, "you'll learn everything happening across the Three Empires and the northern frontiers. And look, it's real paper! You won't find this much paper for less than ten silver coins anywhere else."

From behind him, the other children continued their shouts, vying for the attention of passersby.

"Wars in the West!"

"Templars moving South!"

Their voices rose above the din, each headline more dramatic than the last in an effort to capture interest.

Jamie felt a twinge of temptation but remained hesitant. He doubted the reliability of the information contained within those hastily printed pages. Sensationalism often overshadowed truth in such street bargains, and he was wary of wasting coin on exaggerated tales.

Just as he was about to decline and move on, a sharper cry caught his attention.

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"Templars continue the search for Otherworlders!"

"Spirits summoned by the Demon Gods under investigation!"

Jamie stiffened slightly at the mention. The words struck close to home, stirring a mix of curiosity and concern within him. This wasn't idle gossip. It was news that could have direct implications for him and others like him.

"I'll take one," Jamie said decisively, reaching into his pouch. He placed ten silver coins into the boy's outstretched hand.

"Thank you, sir!" The child's eyes lit up as he swiftly tucked the coins into a tattered leather pouch and handed over a neatly folded newspaper.

Jamie accepted the paper, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. The ink was still slightly damp, leaving faint smudges on his skin. As they resumed their walk toward the Golden Fiddle, he began to peruse the headlines, his eyes scanning the bold print.

Many of the articles were lurid and dramatic, clearly designed to inflame public emotion. Reports of Monster Rushes were rampant, detailing how these incursions had not only increased in frequency but grown more perilous, threatening even the capital and the Holy Empire. Yet, upon closer reading, Jamie noted that despite the alarmist tone, the supposed attacks hadn't caused significant damage.

"Seems like they're exaggerating the events," Thomas observed, glancing over Jamie's shoulder.

"Indeed," Jamie agreed, turning a page. "But even amidst the embellishments, there's likely a kernel of truth. The increase in Monster Rushes is concerning."

Another article detailed wars erupting in the western regions and conflicts within newly established kingdoms so remote that their names were scarcely known to the general public.

However, the news that had captured all of Jamie's attention was the Templars. They were doing an expedition through the deserts to the south and were exploring small towns and the merchants' republic.

For the past three months, a band of marauders has spread chaos across the southern lands, led by a barbarian once esteemed for his honor and camaraderie. Many villagers from the plundered settlements recognized the man who, not long ago, had wielded his blade in service of the caravans, safeguarding merchants and pilgrims from the perils of the road.

Now, consumed by fury, the same warrior imposes his own law, demanding "tributes" in gold and blood. Those who refuse to pay face a cruel fate: they are massacred without mercy, and their bodies are left upon wooden crosses. His punishments have become a symbol of terror that spreads like a plague among the towns.

The people's outcry reached the Holy Order of Velkaris, the Guardian of Divine Law. Responding to their pleas, sacred Templars have been dispatched with the mission to investigate these reports, discerning whether there are influences from the Demon Gods or even Otherworlders brought from other planes.

Sources close to the Cathedral of Elvereth inform that other churches, though alerted, have refused to cooperate with the mission. Despite official silence, unusual movements have been observed in the bastions of other religious orders, as if they were preparing for something greater.

Jamie frowned, the weight of the words settling upon him. To many, this might read as mere sensationalism. A ploy to sell papers through fear and intrigue. But he knew better.

As the bard finished reading, he passed the newspaper to Thomas. "The Templars are moving through the southern deserts," he said, his tone measured. "Investigating small towns and the Merchant Republic. That's intriguing."

Thomas scanned the article, his brow furrowing. "This barbarian leading the marauders... villagers recognized him as a former protector of caravans."

"But what could cause such a drastic change?" Thomas mused aloud. "Possession? Corruption by dark magic?"

Jamie continued walking, his gaze now distant. "It's possible he isn't from this world. Or at least, not anymore."

Thomas looked up sharply. "You think he's an Otherworlder?"

Jamie was almost sure he was, but there was no way to be sure. 'Besides, if they made a mistake bringing me, what's to say they haven't brought even more dangerous people?'

On his shoulder, Jay remained silent but flicked his tail in thoughtful agreement.

"You never know. The gods' powers sometimes seem limitless," Jamie explained.

"I see," Thomas replied. "I just can't imagine something like this happening."

'Amateurish reporting, but intriguing,' Jamie assessed, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He gestured to the paper. "It would be good to find out who wrote this."

"Why's that?" Thomas inquired, curiosity piqued.

'Because whoever compiled this information has sources that others don't. Perhaps they're an Otherworlder like myself.' Jamie thought.

However, that was not his only reason. "Let's consider sponsoring them. When you have the time, send someone to discover who is behind this publication and how much it would cost to place an advertisement."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "An advertisement? What do you have in mind?"

"A notice specifically for Hafenstadt," Jamie explained. "Announcing that our Mercenary Company is recruiting."

A slow grin spread across Thomas's face. "That's brilliant. It would capture the attention of the entire city."

"Precisely," Jamie affirmed. "We need to bolster our ranks, and this could be an effective way to get the word out."

Thomas nodded appreciatively. "I'll make the arrangements."

"One thing Tannenbaum mentioned is certainly true," Jamie remarked. "Things are changing rapidly, and they show no signs of slowing."

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