The Wielder of Death Magic

“No, there’s no need to strain thyself,” said he strolling past the servants – it was as if walking through a tunnel with them being the walls. The door opened to a chilly outside, the outburst of breeze felt something close to a child taking breaks before laughing. The wheezing amidst the trees served to add the illusion. Void, sparkling black with her inherent sharpness and intensity was still eye-catching. Rare was it for a car of this age to drive through the streets. Many ignored the main point; Xerxes series – a project from the Cobalt Unit or rather, one of their subsidiary companies. Naturally, after having made his own research unit, they were tasked to refit and remake the vehicle – a new improved engine with the interior as exquisite as when bought.

“I’ll be back in a day or two, do send my pardon to her majesty,” said he entering the low car.

“Have a good trip,” came from the balcony, “-I love you father,” little hands waved. The Queen made it a point to say goodbye – young Lizzie’s puffy cheeks and innocent smile spurred on a feeling of joy. The green hair swayed to the wind, the gleeful expression of two; a sight which would have made any family man crumble inside. Giving a silent nod, the car roared to leave the mansion. Lizzie would remain in Rosespire as the Queen needed to return to Arda. The portal made it easier to travel; it allowed the princess to study piano and return home for the ‘proper’ education on her element and the legacy of the Ardanians.

‘I wonder how Eira’s doing at that sham of a conference. A gathering of great minds, could they be any more obnoxious. Magiology is a field worthy of study. Energy and Mana being the same, if said sentence was proved, the field which Eira has worked to further advance would crumble. In no way can I let that happen; the Theory of Alchemic reaction will spark their interest – the note I gave will foreshadow many more than is told. The curiosity enough will have a bigger impact than the tired and ignorant comment they put forth. I’ll release the papers later this year, the bait is thrown, I need but wait.’ Paying heed to the road, the drive across the much bigger Rosespire felt refreshing. The barricades between the outside and inside were replaced – instead of iron bars, they used gates, enormous gates which could only be lifted using clever mechanisms. Granted the gates had never been shut; the garrison was moved further up the road leaving the entrance free and empty. Only suspicious looking vehicle was stopped. Leaving the capital was always a joy – the roads were empty as opposed to entering. Catching the eyes of the bystanders, Void toggled to burn the asphalt and head for Rotherham. The massiveness of the walls didn’t change however far he went – the North Gate of Rosespire, an extension of the capital. On the left, over yonder; train tracks linking the north of Hidros, split into a fork to pass over the road on which he drove. Said particular track headed for Riverwood. As for the other track, it continued to the vague Northwest; a stop at the outer edge of Rotherham to then continue to Dundee and finally the Station at Kreston’s border. It linked the Northwestern part of Oxshield – construction for inter-provincials was on way, the project was 75% complete by what was reported in the newspapers.

Two hours later, the reclusive Rotherham came in sight – a faint glimmer in the distance as the roads narrowed to only two lanes. The three skyscrapers of Phantom couldn’t be missed. Passed the town center where people walked, worked, and chatted as normal, continued further until the edge of town. There, the scenery changed, the tameness of behind swapped for an intimidating compound. Airfields followed by research facilities leading into another town – the Town of Phantom, a place restricted from access by the normal populous.

“Boss,” saluted a guard in the first outpost, with a nod, he pressed a button which signaled the main-gate to open.

.....

“Good morning boss,” said another guard as he drove at a walking pace. The first airfield, the start of the organization. The office inside said the airfield was moved to the skyscraper, rather, the building became more of a hangout spot for the guards and workers. A cafeteria with paid chefs and free food. The link between the latter tasting bad often deterred many. Not in this case, no, far from it, the quality of ingredients was first-class, the menu changed every day; with it being as delicious as the day prior. A five-star restaurant for the workers. In the case of leftovers, the rest would be donated to the homeless or those unable to obtain food on their own. The packed food would be sent to Rosespire via a portal to a charity put in place by Gallienne. A collaboration from the leaders of the Argashield Federation. The attention to the sufferance of the minor segment of the populous; the proactive steps in helping them – tis was one of the main reasons the Federation was hailed as gods; a blissful populous equaled to a simpler rule.

“What’s the status on their arrival?” asked he parked behind the old-office building.

“The jet will land in a few minutes,” replied éclair.

‘Well then,’ he stepped out in yet another sharp suit; a glance at his watch with ‘Meldorino’ on the dial showed 09:35. Chatter from the cafeteria; it was time for breakfast – few guards, on rotation, came to pick-up food for those stationed on overwatch. Speaking casually, their breath cut as soon as Shadow came into their line of vision.

“Good morning boss,” they saluted.

“Good morning,” he nodded, and to push the door opened, it wasn’t rare to see ladies working the hard job of protecting a compound as big as here. The ground floor was renovated to give more space. Long rectangular table with seating for sixteen. Around seven tables were spotted; to the back, food was served per hands of Jenny. A student from a private university; she would come to the cafeteria and work part-time to have a little extra cash. Being more or less open-minded, she was pleased to do as was wished. The footstep, normal in sound, felt louder, those who sat were speechless. The joyous chatter turned to silence for Staxius entered. Quick to give a nod and gestured for them to continue – he stood in line the same as the others. Many offered to have him skip the line. Still, he refused for whether one was powerful or not, the guards and workers were still humans helping to have the compound work without trouble. The Boss loved his employees and they returned the feeling ten-fold. Words between them weren’t exchanged for his actions sufficed. The hotel-like treatment; good working conditions and a generous wage. They knew to be respectful.

“Good morning, what would you like?” asked the girl.

“That, that, and that,” replied he.

“Sure,” she took the tray and served with an utmost smile.

“Can I have a second serving of the pudding?” asked he in jest; many who stood grinned at the childlike request.

“No,” returned she with the expression of a mother, “-there are more people in line,” her lashes rose to stop fluttering; the boss stood with a blank expression.

“P-professor?”

“No second serving?” he asked once again.

“No, we c-can’t,” the fluttering resumed with a clogged grin.

“Good,” said he with a lightened tone, “-very good,” proud of her response, he took a seat at the closest table.

“Good morning boss.”

“Please, there’s no need to stop. Continue as thee would, I heard today’s menu is very much delicious,” the personality changed to a food enthusiast; those around were taken aback. Never would it have crossed their mind; someone as infamous as Shadow would have a childish side. Contrary to lowering the respect they are due; a stronger connection was built. One where they held him in high regard and admired how humble the man was. It gave the human touch for someone too perfect is often playing a heavier fa?ade.

“Boss, how are you?” soon, two presence approached from behind.

“Elliot and Yves,” he replied nearing the end of the meal, “-a pleasure to see thee both here; please, take a seat.”

“Don’t mind us,” they leaped over the bench, “-tis rare to see thee eating at the cafeteria,” commented Elliot.

“I suppose so; I mean, I should know what my fellow comrades are eating,” using the word comrades instead of employee – solidified the bond further it was as if saying they were friends and strangely, they were. For once, he trusted the compound and the safety of many people in their hands, and they trusted him to lead them towards a better future. The relation was far stronger than friendship.

“It’s very good,” added Yves, “-I’m happy about the food; raises the spirits from the stomach upwards.”

“I agree,” nodded Elliot, “-a war is won on a full stomach.” They exchanged words over the table; other guards jumped into the conversation – without fail, Staxius would reply and crack jokes at times. The first impression was of a stern, mysterious, and powerful leader. Now, the impression was of a charismatic person who enjoyed speaking to anyone who wished to spur on a conversation.

“Master, the plane is to land in two minutes,” said éclair.

“Excuse me,” said Staxius standing up, “-thank you for the pleasant meal. It was succulent, good food tastes better with good company. Keep it cordial and pleasant – I appreciate the hard work, thank you.”

“No, thank you, boss,” came a torrent like a response. Taken aback, he nodded to leave a step out.

The plane approached the airfield. The screeching of the wheels against tarmac had signaled the landing. Curious marksmen on the watchtowers pointed their rifles at the new-comers. They were ordered to shoot on command only else if the compound went into code-red; then, it would be shoot on sight.

“Where are we?” asked Sugar climbing down the stairs.

“I don’t know,” returned Dei as confused as her lover.

“Is that him?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, it’s Mr. Haggard, the one you idolized,” said she to reminisce.

Stood on the firm ground; Sugar stood nervously. He had changed, once revered as being handsome, the man was but a fleeting memory of the past. Long and messy which got on the way of his eyes; an overgrown beard with uneven edges – various scars down his neck and arms. Skinny paired with oversized clothes; the wind made his stature painfully obvious.

“Hello Dei, Sugar, welcome to Rotherham,” said Staxius.

“Hello,” smiled the lady. They were but a reflection of a forgotten past, talented musicians turned to ruin

“Sugar,” said he facing the shell of a man, “-it’s good to see you.”

Listless eyes rose painfully. The sullen expression was emphasized by his skin sucked to the cheekbones. In no way did he look healthy.

“H-hello,” spoke a broken voice.

“I see,” said Staxius placing a hand on his shoulder, “-Sugar, or should I say, Oris, I brought you two here for one thing; return to the stage. I know it might seem a tall order considering thy conditions – still, a contract is a contract, and Dei signed. From today forth, thou art in my care. The journey must have been tiring, let’s go get you two some food.”

Left to eat on their own, Staxius took a stroll. ‘He’s worse than I imagined. The vocal cords are in a pitiful state. The body might have taken a turn for the worse, but I felt his fingers, the man’s been practicing.’

“éclair, get in contact with Clarise as soon as is possible; we have two patients who the Alchemist sect are going to cure.”