Brian

Mara didn't trust words or protective amulets. In a world where everyone could read minds or dispense a potion of domination, her best friend was a cocked steel. She earned her living hunting cursed relics and always worked alone. Until the Coven forced Brian into her partnership.
Brian was a mage of the old school. He wore a heavy, old-fashioned cloak with hand-embroidered protective runes, despised modern levitating gadgets, and believed in unshakable principles: a code of honor, a promise, and the power of physical discipline. To him, the modern world of magic seemed chaotic and lacking in dignity.
Their first meeting nearly ended in bloodshed. In the dark dungeons of an abandoned abbey, they simultaneously reached for the Dragon's Eye—an artifact capable of scorching another's will. Mara instantly slashed with her dagger, expecting a vile spell to strike her back. But Brian didn't even draw his staff. He simply grabbed her wrist with an iron grip, blocking the blow with pure physical force, without a drop of magic.
"Lady, in my department it is customary to introduce ourselves first, not to draw blood," he said dully.
“The one who strikes first lives in my department,” Mara snapped, trying to break free.