The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 895: Twin Jellyfish

“Good afternoon, master Igna,” sparked Gustv.

“Good afternoon,” returned Igna locking the study door behind. A howl of distress loomed over the volcano. An eruption was imminent and such, the towns flooded underground layers for safety. Igna looked at a magical contraption, a geometrically pleasing square on which showed an overview of the town. Gustv, in his gasp for air after the very energetic greetings, took notice and settled. “-It’s begun,” added Igna, “-the signs of changing times,” he smiled, “-the Danio’s will shudder before raising a finger to me or my family.”

“Might I ask what happened?”

“You may not,” he returned, “-the nature of certain actions is best kept at a reach from where none may know. What concerns thee is simple,” he rose a knowing stare – Gustv nodded in recognition, the gesture stumped and aura frozen. “I do apologize if it came across rude,” returned he lightening the load, “-tell me about the adventures,” he smiled.

The comforting admission settled the wiseman’s heart, “-Danio’s are the familia who’s promised the inhabitants, those of talent and ability, a nice welcoming life in the greater city. As you speculated – the talented are called to be playthings for the strong – no matter how gifted the ‘chosen one’ is; a simple matter of showing who’s strong and who’s weak. It’s not unheard of those children beating their opponent; Celestials, heirs to families. Those incidents are common to those residents of the volcanic town.”

“And?”

“About the matter of secrecy. The battle today has showed the council how badly inhabitants are treated and namely, lied to.”

.....

“Were you present at the match?”

“Sadly not, I was unable to attend,” he reached into a bag, “-for I was busy finding this,” he pulled a scroll, placed it upon the table, threw his back against the couch, and smirked. Igna leaned, narrowed his visual hold over Gustv, picked the item, unrolled it over his knee, and read: ‘-Wiseman; it is with great distress that I write on this very chilly day. By means of carriage, my companion and I have visited the location thee marked. To our disbelief, an inhumane sight of natives spread across our collective field of vision. Rectification upon the location, the camp seems to have moved a few kilometers Southwest, after the great Perette Fall. They nested around the lake – away from any living creatures. My dear comrade, a Celestial of allegiance to presently unknown faction, kindly offered to make the dangerous descent. After much trial and error, and a potential gruesome revival – we made it to the lake, and here, found what I described earlier. By the holy name of the great one, I was stumped, unable to talk or act. The captives accepted their faith crudely – no hint of rest on their faces nor the wish for salvation. It seemed to me now, as I write this letter, the lack of hope was a matter of knowledge. They knew deep in their hearts, dreams about a better life were fa?ades. I truly implore someone, anyone to help them. My comrade, unknown for he chose not to be named, vowed to act. The faction knew and chose to ignore the matter of lack of influence and power. For the past years, we’ve watched Lord Haggard, make a name for himself as the Devil. Though we don’t care about details pertaining to the nickname, we’d like to make sure all bases are covered. And so, on thy word and honor, Lord Gustv, we place our trust in Lord Igna,’ it ended with a signed L.

Igna rose from the read with a pleasant look,”-enlighten me, how does this make sense timewise?”

“Lord Igna; never mind the lack of influence and number. There are always outliers; contrarians who see the world from a differing point. So happens, Marinda doesn’t favor change, it rewards complacency and obedience. Merit in fighting the river is but fatigue and possible exile to the volcano town.”

“Hence the reason why we’re here,” he smiled, “-I’ve met members of said faction, and they, frankly, are not up to the task which presents before us,” therein, a deeper conversation outlasted the evening, fell in the depth of night and rose alongside the sun. A fortnight later – the same sun rose over the same background, lighting the same trees – glancing upon the same people walking from their humble homes towards the rustic mine.

Rosespire II nested in the middle of town, on a body of muddied water. Currently, the water reflected the light, shallow ends were clean, one could see the underbelly of the beast. A bridge linked the manor to an old fishing dock.

“Morning, Lord Igna,” waved passersby, disowned or otherwise, humiliated Celestials sent to a life of manual labor and sufferance.

“Good morning,” he returned, lifting a net, “-today’s the best yet,” he cheered to fishermen boarding their rafts.

“If Lord Igna’s says today’s a good day, who am I to interject,” laughed a slender frame of a man. Little to no hair on the scalp, sunburnt decals, and weakened arms, he dropped onto the raft, used a stick to push against the bridge, and paddled away into the deeper side of the lake. Immediately after the bridge and dock, on a little climb to the outlying street of the town, laid a little shop named; Twin Jellyfish.

“Morning my lord,” said familiar faces, “-I’ll need an order of bread and these items,” a list laid upon a wooden frame erected to support a simple slab of glass.

“Quite the order,” he jokingly said and turned, throwing head towards another room, “-How’s the fish coming along?”

“In a minute,” returned a younger snap. Reassured, Igna turned to the lady and shuffled to the side were laid a counter on which held various items, predominately ingredients and supplies.

“There you are,” he said, returning her empty basket, “-come along later, I have plans to make a buffet.”

“Will do, my lord,” she respectfully bowed and left. Out the shop, a large line of housewives, orphans, and the physically impaired gathered.

“Where’s the bread and soup?” he asked.

“Coming,” returned sharply – the shop laughed joyously. The arrival of the devil, on the day where Gustv paid a visit, shortly settled on the muddied lake. Once a great source of water for the town’s folk turned ecological mess on disturbances by the actively growling beast. The entrance was met with mild disapproval. The no-name town bore similarities to home – Hidros. People of all races and backgrounds could simply move into a village or town, start a business, undertake an apprenticeship or simply join a guild, none asked questions, and the personal lives of a person remained so, private. Here grew the same aura – excommunicated, shunned, or otherwise abandoned Celestial had no stomach to endure judgmental sneer of other, possibly better-doing families. Under the same banner and same sufferance, the townsfolk grew close on the inside and suspicious on the outside to the extent of, ‘-live and let live.’

The moment the devil set foot – rumors flooded the streets and pubs. Add recent events of a massacre of high-ranking Celestials to the list, sanctions would indeed befall the town – a simple string held the already treacherous life whole. Husbands readied their spells and weapons to drive out the devil. Instead, on arrival at the lake – a fresh start of water, fish, and newly restored dock turned fear into bafflement.

In typical Igna fashion – the moment the crowd grew to a sufficiently pleasing number; wings summoned and he hovered, “-to you, the people, I have but one thing to say. I’ve decided to move here – I’m sure news travels fast, and I’m certain thee heard of Orn Village. The struggle of famine and overwork is very obvious, I don’t promise much, what I can say is, I will work to pay my due.” And that was it, an ominously vague statement. Day’s past, a shop erected – fumbling housewives, peaked by the new establishment – entered the very mundane looking shop. Hence, the start of a goodwill venture. Exploiting weaknesses and spotting opportunities. Dependence on the no-name was both advantageous and disadvantageous to the celestials, a fact Igna understood very well.

“There you are,” he delivered the last customer, “-later,” he smiled with elbows on the counter.

An audibly tired sigh exited the backroom, “-done for the day,” yawned young Tania.

“Good job,” he gave a high-five, in her case, a low-five, “-the more you use the grimoire, the better you’ll get.”

Horse hooves clopped, a black and golden carriage passed the shop and halted a few steps ahead, “-Tania,” senses heightened, “-go to the manor and be ready for battle. Alert the scouts, tell ’em we’re on high alert.”

“What about the guards?”

“Have them coordinate with the scout unit. Lest I give the signal, don’t fire.” She escaped by means of a transportation spell. Louds boots tapped; the floor shook till large outlines gathered at the door.

“Lord Igna,” the barrier threw open, two massive guards ducked and barely fit through the doorway, “-the name’s Azo, I represent the committee of Celestial.”

“Which committee, the conservatives or the liberal?”

“There’s but one faction, and tis our faction,” he proudly stood, “-we have been called to investigate the devil’s property on lake Maneno.”

“Under whose authority,” he crossed his arms, “-And for what reason?”

“On reason of murder of the Danio’s heir and cost of lady Danio’s sanity. Poor soul can’t think for she’s gone mad. The committee has been watching – at last, we found the perfect piece,” he showed the crest of Rah. “-Wiseman Gustv was very informative.”

“Right,” he passed the counter and grinned, “-Gustv’s not going to speak, why would he,” he whispered, “-when he doesn’t know anything.’

“He might not know,” returned the astute stranger, “-however, this letter might be of interest. One signed by a certain L.”

Igna took a moment, “-the committee’s not daft,” he hopped onto the counter and sat, “-tell me, what does the committee really want?”

“Destruction of the Devil. Before the intimidation begins, I’d like to add, the council’s a joint alliance of various powerful families. You’re a nuisance, and as a bug, we must squash before it spreads.”

“Very amusing. Committee of Bloodlines, you have me stumped. There’s no point killing a messenger, is there?” he smirked, “-what am I to do,” the feet dangled strangely, “-I’m at a lost for words.”

“The game is over, Devil. We’ve snuffed the flames of revolution.”

“Or have you?” the head tilted, “-from what I understand, Danio and Xinfe will be allies soon. An impossible marriage turned reality; the head of Danio accepted the new head of Xinfe’s offer. What message will that send?”

“Nothing major,” returned the astute scholar, “-riddles won’t do much.”

“Or will it?” Igna circled the man and walked to a side window giving onto the bridge, “-tell me, messenger, are you wise to read between the lines?”

A moment’s inspiration took the scholar, a vengeful glare struck Igna’s exposed back, “-devil... the mine, the volcano, the marriage. You want to be known across the continent, and now that you have the committee’s attention, people will be more willing to listen,” he snapped at the carriage.

“Never underestimate the power of subjection and influence. Now,” he snapped; “-I’d advise thee to scurry along. I shan’t move, bring an army or gods next time, I’ll kindly wait.

The scholar took a simple look outside and exhaled, “-we’re leaving,’ he said.

“But sire?”

“No question’s asked. We’re already in enemy territory, there’s nothing to gain,” he turned but kept his face at Igna, “-I’ll have my revenge next time.” It truly was a silent battle, words spoke one thing, gestures said another, and ultimately – the scholar knew he’d lost.

‘Interesting and dangerous fellow,’ a similar aura hit, ‘-the mark of Zeus,’ a glare outside the window and saw the carriage run along, engraved by the supreme god’s crest. ‘-explains it,’ exhaled, ‘-looks like the committee will be a fun opponent after all.’

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