The Wielder of Death Magic

Heavy clops of boots shuddered out the two entrances.

“Why did it have to be today? The 1st of January; why.”

“Emperor Sultria!” called the same assistant.

“Forgive me,” said he tired from last night, “-I suppose the handling of this week is done?”

“Yes, Emperor,” came a monotonous voice, “-transport awaits thee outside. May thee have a good celebration of New year’s.”

“Majesty, are you sure?”

.....

“Yes, go on ahead, I have more business to attend too,” explained he slowly.

“As thee pleases,” quick on his feet, “-do drop by, my elder sister wishes to have an audience.”

Cleared to a hallowed desolate room, Staxius waited. Aceline’s movie, after the premiere, would be in the cinemas at noon. Rumors over Arcanum, the medium through which people around the globe were connected, had it pegged as the best show of emotion one could see. Per the synopsis, the movie was romance. ‘She’s done it.’

*Hero Luna saves 400 people from an explosion. More detail on the 15:00 news.*

‘Luna again,’ thought he driving through tall-buildings, the traffic wasn’t as bad as usual. ‘She’s taken the mantle of hero without an agency to another level – her uncanny resemblance to Luna, it does make me wonder, ghost.’

Soon it came upon a massive shadow of a giant. The car parked beside many other luxury vehicles. The Gaso Group’s head office. The latter had the others felt as if kids, a giant with all the sense of the word. The reception area differed from the entrance the workers used, here, the ceilings were high, the floor cleared and the attendants lively and respectful. A restful smile that broke to say, “-good morning sir, how may I help you?” the same script, the same words for all the visitors. Trained to not judge by appearance, the fake smile couldn’t be closer to the truth, a master at her profession.

“Good morning,” returned Staxius, “-I have an appointment with Lady Gaso.”

“Lady Gaso,” she frowned doubtfully, “-let me check,” quick on the uptake, her face lit to hide the prior expression. “Please, take a seat,” he left with a nod.

The waiting room could only be described as obnoxious. The walls hung with countless awards of excellence for the various companies, the décor couldn’t have been any less snobby. From couch to the floor-mat, it screamed of money. ‘A psychological game,’ thought he smoking a cigar, ‘-a show of power to have deals sway in the favor no matter the situation.’

“Sir,”

“...” he stared where the voice came.

“Lady Gaso has sent this man to escort thee up,” said another attendant.

“Very well,” extinguishing the cigar, they went up the countless floor with elevator music playing its finest piece of absolute boredom. Conveniently enough, the Gaso Group’s office was split to accommodate the other companies.

“This way, sir,” said the butler opened to a carpeted floor. Statues, paintings of value, and work of art stood as if a gallery. The curtains were curly and not opened to allow the sun – lighting was a mix between bright and dim, it felt cold, the kind from when a man is afraid or readied to run.

“Lady Gaso,” the door opened.

“Good,” said she fixed on her screen, “-majesty, please, take a seat.”

“Thank you for the escort,” he nodded. Being thanked had the man fluster into a mindless state of confusion.

“Majesty,” said she with her strict tone, “-I hope the travel wasn’t hard,” to which the screen turned off.

“It was rather pleasant,” he smiled, “-have the papers been readied?”

“Yes,” said she ignoring the doubt of last night, “-do read it over.”

“I see,” leaned back with legs crossed, “-yes, it’s all in agreement,” said he after a few seconds.”

“Did you read it all?”

“Yes, there’s no need for concern, the clauses don’t put me in jeopardy, tis an honest transference of ownership.”

“The matter of money,” said she, “-could you send it on this account?”

“No problem,” said he with a phone in hand. A call to the bank was in order for said amount of money was a fortune. “Yes, transfer six million.”

“Six million!”

“Yes, consider it a gift for our future partnership.”

“I don’t know how to react to such kindness.”

“Tis a mere token of appreciation.”

“For further trades,” she held out a hand.

“Yes, for further trades, let fortune be a lady whom we can cherish.”

Monday 1st January XX94; Phantom acquired Meldorino, the singular showroom, a workforce of around 40 people, and the rights to their products and brand. Cake’s reaction was one of utmost pleasure, she screamed over the phone nearly deafening the receiver. Her efforts at breaking into the luxury market ended well. A small step to them becoming a pillar in the future.

Taking the elevator down, ‘-such a sorry sight,’ a small room with multiple-computer screens and Dorino visibly stressed in another room.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the debt collector?”

“Shush, don’t speak out loud, that’s a problem for the director, not us. We’re backed by the Gaso Group, don’t worry.”

“Should have said it before they liquidated our shares, fired 90% of the workers, and sold everything, we’re nothing but a name.”

“Shut up, be grateful you have a job in this recession.”

“Excuse me, everyone,” said the towering figure stood at the doorway, “-could someone kindly call over Director Dorino?”

“He’s done it this time,” mumbled he who went to the director. Soon to glance at who called, an abrupt gasp after which he dashed for the door, never had the workers seen him so riled-up.

“Majesty,” spoken sharply, “-you’ve come.”

“Yes, indeed I have,” he smiled.

“Is it true?”

“Yes, the deal has been finalized.”

“Director,” called a worker, “-may I be so blunt as to ask who this is?”

“Yes, you may,” facing the crowd, “-this here ladies and gentlemen, is Staxius Haggard, Leader of Phantom and new owner of Meldorino. Before questions are asked, let me say this, our debts have been cleared, we’re at the starting line beside Sir Haggard. Code of conduct be damned today, thee, workers still here were chosen for thou were the best in thy field.”

“Director,” came another, “-what does it entail?”

“Meldorino is leaving the Gaso Group,” said the owner. “As the director said, we’ll be starting again. My expectations aren’t high, the pecking order will be the same with Director Dorino at the helm. Meldorino is going to break free from the shackles of commonness,” in that instant came a message.

“Director, could you have the workers take the week off?”

“Week off, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, it will be a paid vacation, a gift for sticking to the company.”

Soon to head to the privacy of the office, murmurs of who the owner went around the workplace.

“What is this all about?”

“Listen,” said Staxius, “-I’m going to fund thee 1 million Exa as starting capital. The vacation will be paid for by me, should cost around 400,000 Exa. I’m returning to Arda in a day or two. Meldorino is going to change from a fashion brand to a watchmaking company. There are rich people jaded by high-end fashion and accessories. I’ve never seen anyone take watch-making seriously.”

“What am I supposed to do, I know nothing of watches?”

“Study, Director, tis thy job. I’m going to go hunt for smaller companies and have them be part of Meldorino.”

“The same tactic used by Lady Gaso, furiously buying out the competition.”

“Yeah, have the workers pack up their bags, and you too. I’ve arranged for a new office not far away.”

“As you wish, Owner,” a push of the door had the workers’ shudder. Never had they seen someone like him.

“Director,” came one of the managers, “-what happened?” he asked.

“Everyone,” said he, “-everyone, pack up thy bags. The Owner has given thee one week to relax on a fully paid vacation.”

“Seriously,” he stumbled, “-Is that true?”

“Yes, very much serious. Meldorino isn’t going to die. Also, have the designer switch to researching watches.”

“A rebranding?”

“Yes, have everyone take interest in time-pieces, we’re embarking on a new journey.”

The subtle mention had them celebrating without rest. A paid vacation in trying times, what luxury. Out on the road towards a shorter less impressive building with *Renting,* written. A few people dressed in casual clothes cluttered around a car.

“You must be Mr. Haggard?” said the leader of the group.

“Correct, you’re Mr. Hanzal I suppose?” he replied with a nod. A handshake followed by a long and elaborate conversation. A few minutes later, it ended with another handshake, a deal was struck, rental of office space for the reborn Meldorino.

“Hello, Serene?”

“Hello, Majesty, happy new year, how may I help?” they spoke over the phone.

“I’m returning to Arda for a few days. Have Skokdrag and Haru go around to find the best watchmakers we have. There’s also a renovation job I need to complete for next month.”

“As you wish, have a good trip home.”

.....

‘That should take care of that,’ thought he on the way to the Marrowy. The radio continued to praise the exploits of Luna, an overnight celebrity. The AHA was very much angry. A new star came onto the scene to steal light away from the poster boy, Starlight. The latter was reprimanded severely for not performing well. It was a whole mess only known to the supposed heroes. The monster problem, after being talked many o’ times was simple. To have the Royal Army of Alphia set-up an outpost. It would serve both as a refuge and stronghold.

‘Everything does work out for the best,’ thought he on the jet returning home.

Landed on the 2nd of January, the capital was still in the celebrating spirit. The castle lit with a thousand flame. Unknown to most, upon the waltzing of guests on the marble floor, the king made his entrance. Eira, Xula, and Lizzie were preoccupied with tending to the guests.

“Majesty,” said Serene waiting for the arrival.

“Good to see you,” he said, “-it’s been a week?”

“I think more,” she refuted, “-shall we head for the celebrations?”

“Still at it?”

“Yes, you’d think they are celebrating as if the end of the world is close.”

“The end of the world,” steps taken into the castle, the walls faded. Time seemed to stop, a flicker of reality and illusion.

“Here I call on thee,” the walls changed for the openness of a green-field.

“I DID IT!” screamed a young boy with the same aura as Creation.

“Did what?”

“I summoned Death,” he laughed, “-father said if ever I was in trouble to perform the ritual.”

“And?” he stared to the blue-sky, ‘-damn you, creation.’

“I just so happen to be in a very bad situation,” the sun was soon to be blocked by a giant humanoid figure breathing fire.

“Save the village, please!”

“Are you serious?” he stood jaded by the situation. Unprovoked, the giant soon stomped the ground sending shockwaves around. “You’re asking he who controls death to save people, how dumb are you kid?”

“Death reaper or not,” he stared, “-I don’t care. Father said if I was ever in trouble you would help.”

“Listen,” amidst the carnage of the giant breaking the scenery apart, Staxius spoke calmly, “-what is there in return for me? I don’t want gratitude; I want something worth value.”

“What if I become your ally,” said he terrified by the onslaught.

“Why would I take a child for an ally, who are you?”

“I’m not a kid... I’m 1400 years old, heir to Creation.”