The Wielder of Death Magic

The screen switched for the stock market, Phantom’s stock prices dropped by 10 percent, in a matter of days, the company lost close to half a billion. Julius reclined into the chair, worried about Apexi who’d taken a deeper stab, 20 percent. Elbows against the armrest, fingers pressed against one another and visage stern onto the screen, it wandered to the bottom corner where time displayed; 10:30.

Meanwhile, hidden in plain sight, a couple of strangers sat within a lovely cozy white fence. A waiter arrived with their orders.

“Good job,” said one resting a golden rimmed hand fan on the round wooden table.

“Not my place to accept gratitude,” answered the other, he sipped, the warmth mildly flushed his cheeks, “-the man practically walked into the trap. I couldn’t have asked for the young noble to be so easily manipulated. Still, there was a high possibility of the boy dying.”

“I’m sorry, took it a little too far. We promise to pay the injured party handsomely. Count Denlord’s swaying the court to go against the Haggard’s.”

“The company prices of each target have dropped,” he observed, “-there’s no rescuing them. The corporation’s ready to buy...”

.....

“You know us well,” she said, “-our takeover’s yet to start. I ought to inflict more pain. Hidros’ on way to becoming a haven for business, Rotherham’s already the Trade Hub for multiple big organizations, prime example – Elon’s Dynasty.”

“Rotherham’s in the jurisdiction of Duchess Courtney, sister to the late King Staxius Haggard.”

“I know,” her pupils rolled, “-it’d behoove them to not antagonize the newer parties. Should be kept neutral.”

“Whatever thee says,” he replied, “-my job is done for the moment, I’ll return to investigating the connections between the major players. May the goddess of fortune bless thee.”

“Likewise,” she replied, “-good work, we expect great things.”

The slumped shouldered man paid no heed to the obstacle before him, the mind simply kept at a lowered posture, ‘-pests,’ he gritted, ‘-endangering them for the sake of an advantage. I said to not involve bystanders... I’m way in too deep, if I retreat, everything’s going to be flung in my direction. Walking the path of intrigue is dangerous and potentially deadly...’ he stopped at an electrical-shop, televisions of various sizes were pilled into a pyramid – subtitles allowed for a soundless understanding. ‘-The Haggard’s are under fire,’ he observed, ‘-the count’s adding fuel, where will the crash land us. If this were to happen in my homeland, I doubt the leaders could handle the pressure, it’s merciless, I feel for the recipient. The war fought without bloodshed is scarier.’

Mid-day rolled over the capital, lunch break for many companies. A clear sky and bright day, not to forget the hot rays, the temperature was high by Rosespire’s standards.

Since the leaders were on break, Phantom ran itself through sheer force of will, not that it mattered, the target on Apexi’s back thickened.

‘Noon,’ exhaled Igna, ‘-I dozed off after the morning news,’ he awoke to muscle pain from a bad sleeping posture, ‘-Loftha’s walked into my life again,’ he stretched, toggled off the screen and clapped, the curtains closed automatically.

“Apexi’s in big trouble,” said the uninvited guest.

“Loftha,” he threw an emotionless regard, “-suppose you’re intent on standing?”

“Yes,” she replied, “-I’m going to stay and help.”

“Why, didn’t I subject thee to enough pain, are you a masochist, doth thee wish another doze of the suffering?”

“Stop it,” she threw open her palms, “-not another word. I came for a simple reason, big sister Eira ordered so.”

“Right,” he made for the toilet, “-whatever you say.”

The steam fogged the mirror, and after the shower, he stood face to face against himself, ‘-how should I go around dealing with the problem?’

*Ding,* rang the phone, *Incoming Transmission: éclair.*

“Greeting’s master, we’re in trouble. Not only is Phantom and Apexi under attack, someone’s working behind the scenes to expose the links to your company, Raven, offshore. The many transactions between us, the D.G, and Elon’s Dynasty are to be exposed if nothing is done.”

“What’s the medium of the attack?”

“Through the Arcanum,” where one would expect a shuddering voice, éclair could be heard laughing and even project the imaginary image of him smirking at the idea, “-they’ve made a mistake and I’m going to take matters to heart.”

“Right,” he wiped his face, “-there’s no way to counter Denlord’s attack. Give me the list of her majesty’s court, I’ll need to correspond to them accordingly.”

“Yes sire, I’ll have it ready.” *End of Transmission.*

The list read as follows:

Duchess of the Goldberg Dynasty, Lady Katarina Goldberg.

Count of the Denlord Dynasty, Lord Esteballe Denlord.

Viscount of the Zonti Family, Lord Ameo Zonti.

Baron of the Curn family, Lord Harno Curn.

Baron of the Remington Family, Lord Luther Remington.

Five nobles were selected for their loyalty and honesty towards their crown. Their purpose was simple, to gather and decide on trivial matters – act as a shield to her majesty the queen from when matters are dire, they were the mediators and closest confidants.

Latest at 13:00, Igna slid into a suit and exited the apartment, “-are you going somewhere?” asked Loftha conveniently waiting in the underground parking.

“Listen,” he circled, looking for a vehicle to drive, “-I don’t need an assistant. Scurry along,” he settled on a newer addition to lady Courtney’s collection, the Mizo S5, a collector’s vehicle, the model was a collaboration between two powerhouses in the automobile industry, Yokta and Pildi, where their previous models subjectively said the love of each team would produce a slimmer and faster-looking beauty, what was resulted was a strong robust car with a menacing growl, the emblem, a dragon. Red with black stripes, the headlights circled with a dark-purple glow, terrifying, to say the least. He tapped his phone and the doors unlocked, the engine thundered in an ominous, ‘hello’.

“I’m coming with you,” she entered the passenger side and sat.

“You’re getting on my nerves,” he grabbed the steering wheel, “-here’s a simple mission, I’ll drop you at the capital,” he threw a secondary bank card, “-kindly observe the current trend and what the populous is saying. Look at it with bias, I don’t care, report daily.”

“A convenient way to get rid of me,” her eyes narrowed.

“No, there’s someone else you ought to meet,” he showed a photo, “-I sort of killed her father and drove her mother to insanity. I’ve yet to visit – there are more pressing issues at hand.”

“I understand,” she nodded affirmingly, “-I apologize for acting the way I did. Big sister said to be obnoxious until you gave.”

“She sure knows how to press my buttons.” Therein, they drove into Hidros’s heart. éclair contacted the nobles for meetings, two of five answered. 14:30, he drove into a parking lot and made for Loron’s Restaurant. Passing the olden style buildings brought a sense of gratification.

‘Here we are,’ the restaurant rested peacefully. A familiar face escaped from the neighboring alley, the silhouette had her gaze firmed upon the building, no care to the surroundings, “-lady Beatrice Jola.”

“Pardon?” her hair brushed against her back, “-who’s asking?”

“Igna Haggard,” he replied, “-long time no see.”

Her neatly trimmed eyebrows crinkled, the forehead spawned wrinkles. A spark eased the tension, the jarred edges soothed to gleam under the sunlight, “-Igna, it is you.”

“Correct.”

“Pardon, I really ought to get ready, we’re expecting a representative of the Goldberg Dynasty.”

“That would be for me,” he said, “-we have an appointment.”

“I forgot you’re a big shot nowadays,” said she in jest, the doors opened to an empty inside. The whole restaurant was booked, the staff members waited patiently, “-Igna, why not visit the others,” suggested lady Jola, “-I’m sure Joe would be happy.”

“Are you sure?” he turned from his seat trying to glimpse towards the cooking section, “-I certainly don’t mind.”

“If tis about Kyle Darker, worry not, the chefs on tour overseas to shoot a new cooking show,” she giggled, “-right, go, I’m sure you’ve missed them.”

Pushing the door into the kitchen had a nostalgic feeling, the air, and pressure of cooking, the chefs spoke through motions, “-Jola, is the table set?” fired the always strained voice of Igona, “-for the love of god, reply,” he spun, “-who the hell are you?”

“What’s the matter,” hailed from the other side, “-Igona, I’m waiting for the ingredients.”

“Wait a moment, Joe, we have a guest,” said a lady.

“Yes, a guest,” added another.”

Annoyance twitched his cheeks, he stormed the middle and shouted, “-OFF LIMITS!”

“Hello everyone,” said Igna, “-long time no see.”

“WHO the hell are you?” fired Joe.

“Igna Haggard, don’t you remember?” he casually tilted his head, “-I see the bandana has yet to be changed in the many years we met.

“Igna!” the eyes widened, “-Igna...” the sudden change in energy, “-long time no see, yes,” the very energetic gazes collectively dulled to the floor, “-why?”

A chuckle escaped, they jointly matched the guest’s outburst and exchanged meaningful glances, “-why are you laughing?” inquired Igona.

“The reaction,” he said, “-Cle’s result lingers, the betrayal must have been a hard choice to make.”

“We did...”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “-I’m here as a guest,” before another word said, Jola stormed through the door, “-bad news,” she exclaimed, “-Lady Katarina Goldberg’s here instead of their representative.”

“My cue to leave,” he nodded, “-I’m expecting a meal worthy of the Loron name.”

An acquaintance of the olden days waited gracefully at the window table, age took its fair share of digs at the lady’s visage, and opposed to using makeup to hide the signs of age, she opted to embrace the features. Said decision made her better looks-wise.

“Pardon if I was late,” said she.

“Pleasure to make thy acquaintance, lady Goldberg,” he nodded and sat.

“You’re the Devil of Glenda I’ve heard much about,” her subtle look had more hidden deep within, “-I can figure a guess as to why you’d wish for us to meet, then again, I don’t mind the controversy,” she smiled cordially, “-let us speak in more details.” Over the next two hours, they ate and spoke, Igna carefully chose his words, she refuted any attempts at misdirection and stayed on point, by the time dessert arrived, it showed 16:45.

“Lord Igna, I understand your plight and I’m sorry to say, we from the Goldberg Dynasty have no say in another noble’s affairs. I enjoyed the meal and the conversations, perhaps there’s more to discuss for the future, I kindly refuse to be associated with any parties. A dukedom must stay neutral, I promise to keep the balance, justice is a game of cat and mouse, may goddess Syhton bless thee.”

“Thank you very much, duchess Goldberg, until we meet again,” the meeting would solidify a certain trend. Swaying her majesty’s court’s option wouldn’t work, the secondary party was the Remington family, an old friend in the past life. They also didn’t show interest in the matters.

Darkness veiled the eventful day; the body nonchalantly returned to Loron’s that night for dinner, he left at the early hours of 19:32, the gently lit building shimmered against his back, a cigar lit, smoke puffed, ‘-a dead-end,’ he walked, ‘-looks like the parties aren’t interested in siding with a losing team. Understandable,’ he sat onto a lonesome bench and faced the starry night, ‘-a losing battle, I can’t see solution...’