It wasn't the first time Eirik had shaved in the dark, and his hand moved with practiced ease as he passed the razor across his cheek.  He welcomed the sting that came from working without oil with which to lather the skin; the slight pain helped to wake him at this ungodly hour of morning, then came the splash of frigid water from the basin to finish the job.  Rubbing his face with the fingertips of one hand to check for missed patches of stubble, Eirik gathered the previous day's clothing from the foot of his bed and dressed once more.  He wore long breeches of a muted brown that tucked into the black boots that reached half to his knees; and a faded blue tunic under a forest green three-quarter coat of wool for warmth.  The colors suited his typical Saxian complexion - pale, red-haired and red-bearded with eyes somewhere between blue and green.  Of average build and height there was little to stand him out from literally hundreds of other men in the city.<br/><br/>Having heard that the Tiberians favored a potent oil called parfum with which to scent their bodies, Eirik had bartered for a vial with a Tiberian soldier in the tavern yesterday, and now experimentally dabbed some onto his hands and neck.  A touch of citrus and ginger reached his nostrils, in a way that he couldn't decide was pleasing or irksome.  The soldier yesterday had reeked of the stuff but Eirik didn't plan on applying any more - he'd given the bastard a whole silver crown coin for the small glass vial and it wasn't even particularly full at that.  Still, today was the first day he was reporting for duty with Universus, and he wanted to make a good impression.  He left his rented room at the tavern and began the halfmark walk to the new headquarters.<br/><br/>Universus.  He'd been told by Craw that in the Tiberian tongue it meant "turned into one," and he had to say it was a fitting name for the fledgling organization.  The city of Danelagh, and with it all East Saxia, had fallen to the Tiberian Empire just before winter set in last year, and now with the start of spring a week or two away, the ink was practically still drying on their signed surrender.  The Eorls were gone - some banished, some executed - and it remained to be seen if East Saxia was to be annexed into the Empire proper or simply swear fealty and retain some independence.  It was a confusing, chaotic time for the city and its citizens - a Tiberian legion remained behind to occupy and monitor the conquered Danelagh while the rest of the Empire's army moved to fortify its newly-expanded borders, while many of the soldiers who'd fought for their country's freedom had since turned to banditry after the loss of leadership, wages, and food.  In the city much of their industry and economy had fallen stagnant from the war: dispossessed farmers had to wait until late spring to mend their damaged fields and plant their crops; war-induced inflation left merchants, tradesmen and the average household in the city with little coin.<br/><br/>In short the city was crumbling, falling into chaos and despair.  The Legion would protect the peace, aye, but some 1,000-odd men in a city of 40,000 were able only to prevent mass rebellion by threat of the spear, but the day-to-day lawlessness of a broken city was both beyond their means and their interest to combat.  The city watch still existed, but was left with a skeletal crew and little funding since the war.  Crimes against God such as demon-consorting and gimmickry, lying and blasphemy; crimes against man like assault, theft and murder - all were growing more rampant as law and order slowly fell asunder. That was where Universus came in.<br/><br/>Authorized by both General Publius, leader of the remaining Tiberian legion and de facto leader of Danelagh, and the baron Tasgall, highest-ranking of city's remaining peerage and current puppet governor - Universus was given the task of investigating and punishing the crimes that the city-watch failed to stop, in order to prevent the necessity of the Legion's involvement, which would no doubt be merciless and indiscriminate.  As Craw had succinctly put it, "We'll do what the city-watch can't so the Legion won't do what it would."  The work wasn't necessary noble and it certainly was thankless but at least it was honest, and Eirik knew that honest coin was a rare thing to come by in Danelagh now.  So even if it meant waking before the cocks crowed each morning and dousing himself in parfum so as to not offend delicate Tiberian noses, all the while working to protect the very citizens that accused you of collusion, cowardice and treachery for accepting Tiberian gold... it was still the best of a bad situation, which was more than a man like Eirik had learned to expect.<br/><br/>In Danelagh gimmickry was not strictly illegal but its practitioners were looked upon with anything from fear to loathing, and those like Eirik who were known to be have thrown a gimmick or two were considered untrustworthy and unfit for service under the Eorl's banner.  Hence, despite being young and able-bodied and without family dependents, him not having been called to arms for the war.  Not that this had made life easy for him war or no - gimmickers were easy scapegoats for a city's problems in times of peace and especially war, and Eirik had learned over the years to sleep with one eye open and a knife at hand.  While the skills to stay alive in a city like Danelagh were hard-earned, they had lent him now to Universus.<br/><br/>All of these thoughts occupied Eirik's mind as he made his way from his tavern to Dockside, and finally as he crossed Rat's Court he came to the disused sawmill that Craw had repurposed.  The lacquered wooden sign above the two-story structure still said<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="text-decoration: underline">'LOWEMAN MILLE'</span></span>in bold Saxian runes.  Still not knowing quite what to expect, Eirik entered the mill and noted that at least the tools of the old manufactory had been removed, although it was unsettling to see that there was naught but empty space now.  In the middle of the wide open floor stood a Great Raven - member of that race of large black-feathered birds that stand nearly four feet in height with twice the wingspan, with cruel curved beaks like twin daggers and glittering black eyes that have a human intelligence and an animal cunning in them.  The Great Ravens are highly intelligent and rather long-lived, gifted in magics more fell and potent than any gimmickry, and in Eirik's experience were general nuisances not to be trusted any farther than they could be thrown.  No exception was this one before him now - Craw Maghar, High-Reeve of Danelagh and Commander of Universus.<br/><br/>"Pfew!  Boy,<span style="font-style: italic">what</span>is that ghastly stench about you!?" Craw cackled, fluffing his feathers and cocking his head Eirik's way to level a beady black-eyed stare at him.  So old that a white fringe of feathers ringed his throat, and too fat now to fly, Craw made up for his numerous physical defects by being the cleverest creature Eirik had ever met, but with a personality as abrasive as his cackling caw, Craw made Eirik daily consider plucking and roasting the bird, or at least simply wring his neck.<br/><br/>"Never mind the smell," Eirik muttered hotly, subconsciously fanning his tunic as he crossed farther into the room.  "Where are the others you promised, then?"<br/><br/>"They'll be here, they'll be here," Craw muttered before burying his beak in his feathers in an attempt to catch a bothersome bug.  "Just you wait and see - the finest warriors in the land I've gathered today.  Oh and you too."  With another fluffing of his feathers and a twitch of his head Craw scuttled away with another cackle.  The Great Raven left the manufactory floor to work on something in another room, but called out to Eirik from the open doorway.  "Have you been practicing your gimmickry, my boy?"<br/><br/>"I have indeed," Eirik replied, and even though Craw wasn't in the room Eirik went to demonstrate.  Calmly he brought his open hands out before him, as though resting them on the shoulders of an invisible man before him.  Then he threw a gimmick and the daggers sheathed at either hip flew to his hands so fast they were an imperceptible blur in the interim, almost as though they'd been teleported.  After a slow breath he threw the same gimmick and the daggers returned to his side with the same blinding speed.<br/><br/>That was his best gimmick - he could shift small objects short distances, although it was only because of long practice that he could shift his daggers so quickly.  He had a few others he'd been working on, and there were about as many gimmicks as there were days in the year although as far as Eirik had seen they were all minor feats like his shifting.  Gimmickers like himself could learn several but master few.<span style="font-style: italic">Urges</span>, on the other hand, were like spells out of legend.  Calling fire and lightning; healing the wounded; consorting with demons... if gimmickry was like a shallow brook,<span style="font-style: italic">urges</span>were the tempestuous seas.  And if Eirik were a child splashing playfully in said brook, Craw Maghar and urgists like him navigated waters that would drown the unwary.<br/><br/>As for why gimmickers were jeered at and assaulted and occasionally worse while urgists could even hold high office?  Well, whose ass would you try to kick if you were spoiling for a fight - the one who can light a candle with a snap from three paces or the one who could turn you to a pillar of salt?<br/><br/>"Now, why don't you practice a new gimmick like climbing up to the roof and taking down that damned sign?" Craw asked as he hopped back into the large open space of the manufactory floor.  Clutched in the heavy dactyl primary feathers of one wing, the High-Reeve carried a sheaf of papers no doubt pertaining to the creation of Universus.  Eirik was tempted to take a look but knew that with the others not yet here Craw would not be sharing any details yet.  With early-morning sleepiness threatening to take hold of him once more, and with no sign of any of his new brothers in sight, Eirik decided that he may as well make himself useful, and made back to the front of the sawmill to find a way onto the roof.