The Wielder of Death Magic

“Understand this,” he took the microphone confidently, “-our actions were a result of what was learned in our internal investigation. King Igna prioritizes family and loyalty above anything else, ask any of our closest retainers, they’re family members, not just workers. Niceness has its limits,” he pointed at the crowd on the other side, “-what would you do? Imagine being asked to forsake thy love and pledge to another. You accept the fate and wash thyself empty to start again, the lingering pain of abandonment and betrayal, regardless, the bigger picture is what matters. Now, add disloyalty of the other partner, the one you didn’t love but choose to accept and believe. The latter couldn’t accept the outcome, betrayed the marriage, and gave her virtue to another whilst being tied by the bond of matrimony. How would that make you feel?” the eyes narrowed, “-let me tell you, I’d be furious. I would want her to suffer for the betrayal,” the mouth hovered in a small split, waiting for the next trail of thoughts to pass, “-got the answer? Hear what king Igna wanted, to unite the kingdom and allow the people to make a meaningful judgment in expanding the horizon. Industrial evolutions, a solid partnership to the famed Alphian Empire. Alas, the disagreement has put everything on hold – we’re disunited and vulnerable. The only solace we have is the armistices reached between Alphia and Iqeavea. United Nation of Alrosia meant the truce extended to us...” a woeful silence washed the atmosphere, “-Civil war? After what he did to ensure the kingdom’s growth and betterment of the people, to have the very same people turn around and spit in his face, well, what can I say. The Gaien council, elected leaders by the citizens, nothing matters. Our trust was shattered, hope we had for the future crumbled.”

“Wait, wait,” interjected the host, “-the fault lays on us?”

“No, it lays on those who’ve allied to Lady Eia’s attack on the throne. They fled the province before answering questions – and in layman’s term, an admission of guilt.”

“Are you saying there’s nothing to do?”

“Yes, nothing at the moment. The rogue faction against the crown have shown their colors and fled to Dorchester and Kreston. As of today, border patrols will block access and monitor closely. We fear the rogue faction may try and ask for overseas help; the church, for example, they may be interested in capturing Kreston again – return to when they were ousted.”

“Seems to us a war is gearing to start?”

.....

“Correct,” nodded éclair, “-enough is enough. We will take action and strike those who dare hurt our king’s trust. This is a warning to villages nearest the borders, evacuate inland. Contact the guilds for job requests – the crown will fund the necessary arrangements. Lest the nobles agree to our terms, Hidros will be divided – war will ensue until surrender or complete defeat. Heed these words carefully, Queen Eia, Nicola Vonhen Hart and worshippers of the dark-god; bear thy fangs, we’ll repay the kindness tenfold,” the show went offline – discussion levied over the arcanum. Details were scarce until the greater picture was posted; all the facts were made available.

The revolutionist also made attempts at broadcasting their side of the story. However, unknown to the public – the attempts failed every single time. Never underestimate the power of narrative control, then again, the broadcast sometimes reached the channels in a blurry and biased fashion.

The camera’s toggled, éclair rose for the outside – a car waited, destination, the castle. The weather worsened, droplets hammered against the windshield, tiny pallets – the cacophony made hearing one’s own thought troublesome.

An hour or so later, he arrived and swiftly made for a meeting room. Closest allies to the crown sat and ate – the broadcast projected against the wall. “Welcome,” said Starix.

“Prime minister,” nodded Asmodeus, “-job well done,” they clapped.

He grabbed a wine-glass, rose a hand in motion to say, ‘-stop,’ and followed to the entourage, “-a minor victory,” he sipped.

“Minor is an understatement,” fired Alta, “-we’ve taken control of the story. Releasing the facts was a great idea,” her glass rose towards Julius, who in turn nodded, “-words, proof, all there to make their own judgment.”

“The scheme’s marvelous,” added Kul, “-break the unity, gather the enemies into one place, classic divide and conquer. This time, we divided ourselves – way to surprise.”

“I feel for our enemies. Imagine Eia’s face, she had nothing to do – her pregnancy’s real, a doctor confirmed, and it’s plastered over the Arcanum. Step one is complete, what else?”

“We wait and watch,” sipped éclair, “-their turn to make a move. The more time passes, the more of our agents will spread the word of how conniving the queen is – we’ll rip apart their integrity,” *slam,* the door buckled, “-éCLAIR!”

“I was wondering when you’ll show.”

“Bastard, that’s my daughter!”

“Piers Riverty,” called Julius, “-your daughter showed her true colors.”

“Obviously,” the frustrated man stormed to éclair’s face, “-she was forced to marry and forsake her rightful claim.”

“Poor little ol’ Eia,” jested Asmodeus, “-look, Piers. She’s the reason the revolt exists.”

“We know of the plot being constructed,” added Alta, “-his majesty said to leave her alone, do you know why?”

“Treason’s penalty is death,” he gulped.

“And those conspiring with her will suffer the same fate. No matter how advanced machinery and technology gets, the leadership will never change, the king has authority to do what he pleases. We tried implementing a voice for the people, look where it landed us, in a shit bed of conspiracy. The Gaien council will exist, the king’s adamant.”

“Piers,” shuffled éclair, “-for the greater good or whatnot, I don’t care, none cares to save for themselves. Do what you must – go meet her, stay by her side if the war escalates – I want you to pull the plug and stop those pulling the string. Lives will be lost, there will be a battle, and in said battle – make sure she escapes.”

“You care about her?”

“No, we care about the promise made between Queen Gallienne and King Igna.”

“Right,” he nodded, “-I’ll go.” The locks clicked,

“-sure it’s wise to let him go?”

“A father has a duty to protect his kin, who are we to deprive his right,” said Julius, “-I’ll continue coordinating agents on the field.”

“Yes,” the collective gathering gulped the drinks and scattered across the big wide hallway. éclair was left to shuffle forth till a balustrade giving onto a patch of emptiness, ‘-we have the situation in control, master – how’s your journey coming along?’

A few weeks later, a lonesome figure stood before the secluded town of Ezbon, many buildings lost inside the greater sea of nothingness, dry grass, dead trees, and scorching heat. Distant rumbles, the sound of marching troops – gunfire far in the distance, ‘-here’s my last target,’ paused Igna, ‘-the stronghold of the revolution.’ Cars were rare, ‘-I’ve killed so many people on my way here,’ images flashed to when a helicopter dropped him at an under-siege stronghold to the east. There, a few days were spent defending and attacking the invaders – strength in numbers made the battle a fight of grit. Soldiers falling left and right – blood slashing across the field, ‘-the amount of blood I’ve absorbed,’ he smirked, ‘-I feel awesome.’ Rumors of a bespectacled fighter diffused from the front lines to the headquarters, ‘- pale skin, dark hair, and bi-colored eyes, any sighting is to be reported immediately, the man’s a threat, unlike anything we’ve seen. He singlehandedly defeated a tank – they said he leaped on the machine and fired – the bullet pierced armor and killed riders.’ Tales of war were common – many dismissed it to the folly; battle sickness.

Dried dirt scattered over the roads, Igna walked – marksman guarding the entrance of town shimmered their scope, the interface made an internal note of the location. Ezbon wasn’t picked as a stronghold by random, the area was secluded and difficult to attack, considering the access path. Either climb mountains to the north or stumble across the forest to the south. Terrain unevenness, another added layer of difficulty. Easy to defend for a simple reason – a singular path of attack. Mounted turrets pointed down the road, tanks circled kilometers away – aerial support at a moment’s notice.

‘Can a single man take their stronghold?’ he squinted; jarringly massive doors guarded the inside, ‘-taking the area might be fun,’ communication channel shifted, “-Hello, hello, Xen speaking,” fired a cheery voice, “-I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. The heat’s a pain – they’ve taken notice to my position,” it suddenly beckoned seriousness, “-the forces have exhausted their numbers. About time we deliver a final strike. On my orders,” a force a few hundred laid in wait to the south, under the cover of rough terrain, sharp cliff ends and forests. The operation began a few days prior, a scouting party made a journey inside the deadly forest – afterward, climbers scaled the insanely sharp crag. The climb alone took twenty minutes. A replica was made to train the fighters, only the best and fastest were recruited.

‘King Juvey’s forces’ adaptability is to be feared,’ he marched, ‘-makes sense why many kingdoms fear them,’ glaring down the path, ‘-augmentation of physical abilities,’ he swallowed darkened crimson orbs, ‘-let’s go,’ the outline vanished under their noses.

“GONE!” exclaimed the sniper, too little too late for Igna leaped, bypassed the defense, and dove inside the building. The shattered glass had the soldier glance, *bang,* one target dropped, Igna turned and aimed for the adjacent building – confusion screamed across their channel, nothing beats amplified white-noise, *bang,* another shot, another dead. In the same manner, he moved swiftly under the confusion; stabbed, shot, and strangled guards. “-Send the decoys.”

An army bearing the King’s flag exploded from the Eastern road, they leaped over the sloping hills and tore the asphalt. ‘-Good,’ he watched from the comfort of high-grounds, the alarms of attack rang, the attackers leaped at the chance of battle. Rifle in hand, the flock ran at the incoming deluge – explosion from shells slaughtered dozen. A rope ladder was dropped from the southern wall, courtesy of Xen, “-area’s clear – let’s move people.”

“The plan worked,” nodded Onte, “-time to clean up the mess,” the team split and killed. Aerial support vanished by anti-air weaponry, the scale of Elendor’s might all but scratched the surface. Gunfire rattled, ‘-who’s the resistance?’ a scan revealed a precociously arranged structure. Roof to roof, ‘-there are people?’ he dropped inside, pistol unholstered, a vaguely suspended lightbulb barely lit the underground room.

“Who are you?”

“Someone of no importance.”

“No importance?”

The interface scanned the figure and labeled him an ally, “-a member of Phantom?”

“Who did you k-”

“Don’t ask questions, why are you here?”

“Kidnapped and forced to work for King Juvey.”

“King Juvey, I thought the stronghold was under the control of the resistance.”

“What resistance,” he shook his head, “-King Juvey stages sieges and conquest to keep his troops in shape. Those on the frontline are common folks, residents of Elendor, or slaves delivered by the church. How did you know I was?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he exhaled, ‘-there’s my reason why he didn’t care. I took part in the genocide, whatever,’ *bang,* the man dropped, ‘-Phantom or not, if I refuse – my cover will be blown.’ Footsteps stacked and ran inside, “-Xen, we heard shots, are you ok?”

“Yeah,” he stood with a wounded arm, “-this one cause me trouble, I barely escaped.”

Onte seemed a little disappointed, “-what’s done is done, let’s head back, the battle is over.”