The Wielder of Death Magic

“Cousin,” he whispered, “-get him out...”

“Cousin,” interjected Julius, “-don’t,” he reached for Igna’s hands and pulled, “-look at him,” the glances missed, “-they’re engaged from what I heard.”

“Engaged?” he narrowed, “-those two?”

“Seems like it.” Igna’s anger and frustrations personified into the attending guest, Ziu Patek, and Loftha Sultria. The former was the root of many losses he suffered, counting among them was the death of Alicia. Coming from the suicide of Lessie, Igna’s empathy wasn’t much present. Fingers ran through the back of his hair, it pulled and smacked the forehead against a very familiar face, “-Igna,” narrowed lady Elvira, her makeup light but present, the outfit respectful and costly, “-look at me, boy,” she matched his breathing and eased on hers, “-easy,” she calmed the ominously glowing aura. The few unlucky to stand in the range were hit by an urge of nausea, one headed to the washroom. The couple made their rounds and stood beside the coffin, Loftha and her partner, the tall dashing Ziu, held hands in prayer and bowed. No disrespect nor mistrust, the custom of respecting the fallen went without incident – Loftha took charge and guided the duo to empty seats. More guests arrived and paid respects, Seiran, Laurance, and Rile were centermost on the day – as immediate family, many condolences floated their way.

“I’m calm,” said Igna, “-stop treating me like a child.”

“Son,” pure long silver hair braced his peripheral and locked beside Elvira, who eased her grip, “-my dearest son,” said the well-dressed Courtney, her expression and present confidence turned the ominous atmosphere, “-I’ve missed you,” she pulled his finger and latched into a tight embrace, “-I apologize for not being there,” Courtney’s similar height allowed the lock to be efficient. On letting go, he purposefully dropped his height and went for another hug, she chuckled and patted his head, “-my, you’ve put on muscle, haven’t you?” she eased onto one of the seats and dropped from looking inside. Igna settled on her lap and controlled the breathing, “-son,” she patted his forehead, “-for one who enjoys pushing others, I admit, this sight is very rare.”

.....

“Mother...” nothing else formulated, in that instant, nothing needed to make sense. Courtney truly was his mother, the inviting smile, long hair flowing at a whistle – relief washed the core. Igna was just that, Igna, no Staxius, no Alfred, in the purest form of ego, Igna was but Igna, the same confused boy who woke decades ago on the other side of the wall. Someone who started without any knowledge or a sense of self – the few minutes he laid on lady Courtney’s lap were heavenly. Unbeknownst to them, he nearly drifted into the land of dreams. Taps on the cheeks shattered the very idea, he rose and gasped, watching the garden, where which workers carefully placed a covered memorial in honor of Laura.

“Igna,” said Courtney, “-my son,” she clenched his hands, “-I’m happy.”

“Happy?” the forehead crinkled.

“Yes, happy,” she kept a lovable smile.

“Why?”

“Nothing,” her pearly white teeth escaped, “-motherly instinct or whatnot.” The casual discussion stopped per arrival of men in suits. A funnel of luxuriously dressed individuals eased to display a similarly aged man to Igna, “-long time no see.”

King of Hidros and Queen of Arda stood, “-Lord Elon.”

“Majesty,” he took her palm and touched it with his forehead in a little bow, “-refine as thee are stern,” her expression harshened for visitors, the previous kindness felt wrong.

“Gutsy as thee are smug,” she returned, “-the entourage’s grown much in the years.”

“What can I say, they are my bread and butter – a healthy mind comes from a healthy body and healthy company,” the glance centered on Igna, “-speaking of a healthy company,” he smiled wholeheartedly, “-my friend,” both leaned into a handshake which turned embrace, nothing formal nor respectful – the obnoxiousness was proof of their closeness.

“Son, I didn’t know you were close to lord Elon,” doubt filled her gaze, “-am I to-?”

“No, no,” refuted Elon, “-my friend here, Igna, we go back a few decades. I mean, he did grant me immortality and youth. There lays nothing for me to give when I asked for a price, he but asked for a friend – I was greatly touched. We bonded during the dark-age,” a reference to the hard years Phantom and Haggard’s suffered, “-when ousted from Elendor, I had to run – Igna provided me with a place,” the memories flooded, “-I remember we split the rent on a very cheap apartment.”

“No, no,” interjected Igna fondly, “-not an apartment, that place was a living hazard,” they laughed, “-We lived together for a while, working as adventurers. Upkeep on our property was expensive...” he cringed, by hazard, much memory came from hitmen and monsters. During those years, life was cruel – every minute spent trying to survive, especially Lord Elon, the man had a massive bounty over his head, and there was Igna, killing bounty hunters for the sake of a friend. Needless to say, none ever got the better of them.

“I know,” said lord Elon, “-spending every Friday night fighting monsters to avoid collectors. Man,” they facepalmed and exhaled belly laughs. Lady Courtney and Elvira watched, arms crossed and eyes glazed, “-remember this?” he pulled the sleeve and showed a bullet wound, to which, Igna lifted his shirt,

“-Yeah, we took bullets to save one another. Good times,” shirt within the pants, “-guess our story is meant for another time?”

“Please, carry on,” said Elvira sarcastically. Elon didn’t catch the intent and went to formulate another sentence – an elbow jab from Igna stumped the lungs.

“Majesty,” attending maids came for the Queen whilst suited men came for Elvira, “-my lady,” they called, and off the duo went, carried by their duties and calling. Lord Elon’s entourage faded into the crowd, Igna and him watched through the veranda window. The area became restricted based on clout, “-where’s Alison?”

“She’s entertaining the crowd,” replied Elon, “-Igna, it’s been a long while since we’ve spoken.”

“Right, it has been,” they settled into lounge-styled seats. Igna rose a hand to the maids – they rushed for the bar and brought the strongest drinks available, Igna lit a cigar whilst Elon lit a pipe, “-not since our businesses regained their momentum.”

“Elon’s Dynasty had more trouble getting from the Empire.”

“What can I say, the range of our influence over the market is enough to capsize the economy. So many loopholes, tens of millions in legal fees, and close to two years of us sharing home later,” he smiled, “-seriously, I didn’t expect you of all people to accept my request.”

“Hey, I was the one who offered,” they sipped, “-the good old days.”

“We speak as if we’re old,” they cheered, “-tell me, Igna, how’s Raven?”

“Doing awesome, my companions are living the life. Odgawoan’s the place to be for the rich and famous. A couple of million and it’s not impossible to sleep every day with top models, granted,” he puffed, “-you’re in league with the underworld.”

“Speaking of the underworld, I heard good things from Godfather Renaud. The contested routes into the Empire seem to have eased a little. Did you?”

“Perhaps?” he smiled; “-the church’s backed off our cases. Elendor’s prime target, I bet you can retake the manor.”

“My life there’s over,” glanced into the distance, “-resorts, my friend,” he whispered, “-sun, sand, and sea, I love my life. Wake up warm and glance at the lovely crowd who come enjoy the beaches, from fat oafs to sculpted figures, it’s a blast to see them enjoy life. Too bad underneath the joy lays a world of crime and death.”

“Where there’s happiness, there’s ultimately sadness. Can’t do much about it,” said Igna, “-I’m glad you came, Elon, it means a lot.”

“Hey, you wanted an audience with the Overlord, here it is,” he laughed, “-the nickname has weight, meanwhile, if they looked at me,” he winked, “-they’d see a charismatic young man.”

“Drop the charismatic part,” jested Igna.

“Ha!”

A light-blond hair young woman slipped past security and panted, “-seriously, you didn’t tell them I was the secretary?” pouted Alison, her appearance changed, crimson-colored pupils gave her alliance, “-Lord Igna,” the glances met, she gripped her tablet tightly, “-I’m thankful for the gift.”

“What gift?” Elon looked to Igna and pressed his lips, “-buddy...”

“Vile of wine,” added Igna, “-welcoming present into the Nox’s clan.”

“Ahh,” he rose the half-empty glass, “-to Alison’s rebirth.”

“My lord, Elon, please, go pay your respects.”

“Right,” he gulped the drink and stood, “-enough for me. I should check on our fallen sister,” quick to extinguish the pipe, “-I’ll be back,” the footsteps went and muddled into the inside’s chatter. Alison pulled a seat, “-here,” Igna fixed a strong drink and passed it along.

A nonchalant knock of the head, “-good,” she wiped her lips, “-I’m no lightweight, Igna. My body doesn’t reflect the capacity. Another drink,” the glass hit the table, he happily obliged. A few shots later, Elon returned, the prior joyful expression tightened to a frown, “-fix me a drink.”

“What happened?” inquired Igna, Alison’s expression shifted from side to side, “-my lord?” she blinked.

“What’s that damn Patek doing here?”

“You know him?”

“Pretty well, Cimier and their underhanded methods,” he gritted, “-they’ve tried so many times to steal my businesses, always trying to buy. They haven’t the financial means and yet brazenly attempt purchasing using OUR stolen narcotics.”

“Here, have a drink,” Igna offered. To and fro from the veranda was quick to garner the attention of guests, many high-profile figures earnestly tried to enter the restricted area. Guards and retainers efficiently shot down attempts, “-calm yourself, Fred,” whispered a clique, “-the first rule of negotiations, make a good impression. Standing out isn’t the wisest of an idea – today’s funeral is in respect to Laura...”

“I know, but we need to meet the King, hell, even someone vaguely close to his circle. If he agrees to speak, we may have a chance.”

“Stupid, look around, most of the crowd here wants to speak to the king. Look,” they motioned, “-do you realize the amount of influence a stone’s throw away?”

“I know, it’s why I’m on edge. Why am I nervous, I own a leading filming company, I’m at the apex of life... compared to them, I... I feel so inferior.”

Ziu and Loftha remained side by side, overhearing swooning over Igna rose Ziu’s prideful nature, “-no,” tapped Loftha, “-don’t, I know what you’re thinking. The answer is no.”

“Let me have a shot at him, come on, Loftha, we depend on one another.”

“No, no,” she shook, “-your history with him is bad. We’re here to pay respects, not start a fight.”

A ground of armed figures flocked the couple, “-Loftha, Ziu, the king wants an audience.”

“See, they want to talk.”

She knew all too well, “-I’ll refuse, thank you.”

“Pardon my saying, this isn’t an offer, tis an order.”

Ziu rose abruptly, the monstrous figure looked upon the backbiters mercilessly, “-come,” he took Loftha by the wrist and pulled, “-I don’t know what’s the story between you, I sure have something to say to the king,” he smugly crossed the common area, once at the veranda, similarly sized guards patted the noble and cleared entry. Igna sat accompanied by Lord Elon. Lady Elvira and Courtney were a fair distance apart in their own clique which held women of power. Puffs of smoke fluttered across Ziu and Loftha’s faces, “-I asked for the lady, what’s he doing here?”

“Ign-”

“Don’t speak!” thundered Elon murderously, “-you,” he pointed and puffed,”-don’t have the right to talk or breathe our air,” he stood and glared, “-now, before I ask them to gun you down, fuck off.” Ziu’s vein bloated, “-don’t,” he puffed as if spitting into Ziu’s face, “-must I repeat myself?” he narrowed, “-I said, fuck off.”