The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 1056

Chapter 1056: Istra

“Have you heard?” echoed words and sharp taps, “-about your supposed hero?”

“About what?”

“Kirth,” the taps stopped at a bench, “-my lady, you should really pay attention to the summoned minions.”

“Why should I?” returned long black hair cut in a way to emphasize the visage. Sharp eyebrows carried a dignified look. One pupil wore inky black whilst another wore yellow surrounded by a sea of black. Her sharp blink and gentle motion gave a sense of confidence. She took long and meaningful pauses, “-after all, their death is only fuel to the burning fire of life. I granted an opportunity to grow,” her shoulders dropped, “-suppose none can be as unusual as the famed Scifer.”

Other footsteps came from an adjacent archway, “-lady Gophy, someone is here to see you.”

“To see me?” she stopped, flicking through her thoughts, “-very well, lead the way,” she ambled until the archway where her dignified frame froze, “-Kirth’s death was unexpected. Have the news relayed to him,” the curious man tipped his hat and smiled shy of the shadow. She followed onto a rocky walkway made of plates of smooth stone scattered about. They looked like an island in the middle of a green ocean. The sun brightened much of the colors, and the associated heat, as shown in the distance by passersby, was unbearable. Some pitched their shirt and hopelessly blew, others fanned.

“Lady Gophy, are you not hot in that attire?”

.....

“Not really,” she scanned her robe, “-why, does it look hot?”

“I’m not one to judge,” the man retracted his words, “-pardon my intrusion,” and led the march at a faster pace. She kept her own, ‘-what did I say?’ she wondered. Shades shone sloppily from humble tree foliage. ‘Who could it be?’ she wondered and entered a chapel set in the shadow of a greater church rising from whence they came. The immediate humble shadows thickened, and a gentle air blew to no equal of the summer heat. Bushes, otherwise shrubbery were allowed free roam; only to be cut when they elapsed into the walkway.

“Priestess,” waved a few.

“Good morning,” she replied, “-the heat sure is unrelenting.” Her jovial comment garnered a few laughs, a sharp cut thus waited the cold innards of the chapel. Paintings of gods and demons lined the walls in reproduction.

“Please, the guest is inside,” said the aid, “-I will attend to my other duties,” the doors locked, and silence settled.

‘Silver hair?’ caught her attention from the front row. She hastened her pace, ‘-who can it be?’

“Gophy.”

“...”

“Long time no see,” the silver-haired man rose, “-I see you’re doing well.”

“Igna?”

“In the flesh,” the gestures widened, “-the chapel is quite the sight to behold. I do wonder what resides in the church yonder.”

“What are you doing here?” she pressed with thin lips.

“A cordial visit,” he smiled, “-it would be rude of me not to introduce myself before the church. I hear only good things from the residents. A church that makes a village a town, it does not disappoint.”

“How did you find me?”

“Gophy, dearest Gophy, I do not owe a traitor explanation,” he tipped his head with a friendly smile then headed for the door.

“IGNA WAIT!” the rumble resounded, he paid no heed and soon vanished through the parted doors. ‘What is he doing here?’ her heart sank, visible irritation crinkled her brows and blemished her dignified appearance.

“Pops, can we get something to eat?” Vanesa came from the chapel’s shadows.

“Sure we can,” they locked arms, “-Vanesa, I’m impressed you don’t dislike the heat.”

“It’s terrible,” a glazed look crossed her regard, “-I’m going to pass out.”

“Not on my watch,” he pulled and snapped, “-this should keep you calm.” A cloud hovered above her head from which snow fluttered. The bystanders swallowed their breaths in awe, ‘-is that magic?’ they wondered. A flashy new family entered the quiet trading town of Istra, situated Northeast of Port Dawn, over the mountains and through the unexplored jungles set at a few week’s journeys on horseback and days via train. Istra, aside from being a normal trading haven, also bolstered an unparalleled crime rate in the regions bordering the seas. Istra, as seen above, was split onto sections. The slums and poverty-ridden region bordered the port, whilst the trading town was fixed upon a cliff overlooking the peasantry. The port, the main town, and the mines further northeast, or east of the port/slums. Three main sections new visitors ought be familiar with. Access to the main town was not restricted by law, it was maintained by the sense of superiority thrust by those at the top; mostly wealthy successful businessmen and industrialists. In many ways, Istra could be seen as the Port Dawn of the North. Wealthy Alphian industrialist Thoas Duquant, a very famous name in the world of business and abusive factories, reigns as the mayor. A decision that came about from his efforts to build and expand regions made for the New Continent’s industrial revolution. The gamble worked and during the war, he stacked his fortune by supplying factions with metals for the production of weaponry. Duquant is, as many writers have quoted, ‘-the embodiment of severity,’ the second coming of Draco. Thus rendering access to the town virtually inaccessible to the commoners. An example of such a level of segregation was the church, whereby the bigger church was built to honor the haves, and the chapel, for the have-nots.

‘The olden days of Hidros,’ crossed his mind, “-Vanesa, care for something to eat?” they came upon the port side of town; ships waited at the harbor. Rails carried shipments from the industrial section, heavy factories blew whistles and pillars of smoke, and the sky could be seen painted as gray and solitary. Murky waters held dead fish and sea life. The repulsive smell sufficed for a weak stomach’s defeat.

“Igna,” a handsome lady rushed into his arm, her large light-blue eyes gazed into his soul lovingly, “-I’m here,” she pulled his head and exchanged a warm kiss. Her romantic gestures came to the dismay of sailors and overall hardworking men. Hard palms, and hands stained in the shadows of oil and machinery, they could but glare enviously.

“Pops, we’re too far out.”

“No, it’s fine,” he continued along, taking note of the ships, “-I have petitioned the harbor for space to rest our yacht,” to say Igna and his family stood out was an understatement. First, it was him, the king of Hidros, man to wealth unimaginable to the layman, his partner, the absolutely stunning Syhton, her beauty equal to that of a goddess, and the aloof Vanesa, with her clinginess. Igna no doubt stood out; word around town was of a couple looking for a residence.

A sweaty office worker hailed, “-lord Igna,” he cried, “-lord Igna!” and ran.

Syhton took Vanesa by the hands, “-we’re going for lunch.”

“Okay,” he nodded, “-here are the keys. Don’t make too much noise,” a pointless endeavor for soon a beautiful sounding engine’s roar thundered. Candy apple red, such the color racing up the roads to the town. ‘-Always with the flashy car,’ he intrinsically laughed, “-Lord Igna,” the man gasped, “-I’m sorry.”

“Take your time,” he lit a cigarette, workers carried on their day, loading and unloading cargo from the many vessels, “-we’re in no rush,” he puffed and motioned at the hangar, “-follow me, the heat’s rather arduous, is it not?”

Relief washed the office worker. The comfort of an air-conditioned hangar, Hamer’s Inc, said the massive emblem, standing out as the bigger and better facility for storage, “-my lord, are you sure we should be here?”

“Hamer’s inc,” he puffed, “-is owned by us, don’t worry,” he casually sat on steel-stairs, paying no attention to how it might have dirtied the expensive-looking suit, “-have a drink,” he pointed at the wall lined by vending machines.

“But I don’t have change...”

“It’s free,” he puffed, “-hurry.”

Pure happiness went down his throat. He looked up feeling refreshed, “-my lord, it’s about the Master of the Harbour,” a letter changed hands.

“To whom it may concern. It has come to my attention that an unknown ship wishes to dock. I’m afraid the harbor won’t be able to process the request. The port’s already under much stress from the constants ins and outs of produce. The discussion will not be up for debate. As for the request to dock privately; such request ought be taken through the mayor’s office. Good day.”

“Even here,” he crushed the cigarette and shook his head, “-I can’t seem to have a break.”

“I apologize-” the phone rang, Igna rose his finger and checked, ‘-Syhton?’ he answered, “-hello?”

Screams and cries burst through, “-Igna, it’s me,” she spoke calmly despite the abuse being thrown, “-we have a situation with ruffians. These mongrels dare think they have power, what should I do?”

“Put the leader on the phone.”

She rolled her eyes and glared, the vocal bunch froze, “-who’s the leader here?”

“...”

“There’s no leader. You need to leave our well-respect establishment. We don’t serve the likes of you here, slum dweller,” the high-end restaurant murmured estranged comments.

“Is she even allowed to be here?”

“Commoners ruining our establishment. The world’s gone to the dogs.”

“Look at her outfit, she’s not even worth the garment.”

Smug grinned lowered on her table, “-hear that? Tis the established speaking. We don’t need your kind.”

She rose her big blue eyes, “-imbecile.”

“Don’t ignore me!”

Phone to her ear, “-satisfied?”

“Yes I am,” the door swung open. Synton’s table was trapped by larger-looking armed men. Vanesa threw annoyed glances, “-I’m hungry,” she said. He stared, the ruffians subconsciously parted for him to take a seat, “-now then,” he smiled at Syhton and Vanesa, “-a good place you chose. I hear the food is to die for.” The comments kept on stacking, and words of the incident reached the kitchen, front of the house could do naught but watch in despair. ‘The church’s crest. Gophy, my poor little Gophy, did you really think sending these idiots to pester would amend anything?’

“What’s happening out there?” cried the head chef, “-why have you stopped working?”

“Chef, there’s trouble. It would seem commoners have entered the restaurant.”

“What a pain,” he dropped his towel and exited, ‘-the new continent’s not as great as they say. Alphia was one thing, this is another. I don’t get why the worthless think they’re something when they’re not. Wealthy playing the role of nobility, how insulting. If they were to incur the wrath of a true Hidros bred noble, I’m sure they’d see reason,’ the chef entered with somewhat grayish hair and still a sharp jawline. Red collar signified the rank, “-what may the problem be?”

“We have no problems to speak about,” Igna side-glanced, “-Kyle Darker.”

The man froze, “-what’s the matter, Chef Darker, have you seen a ghost?” Igna remarked.

“Majest-”

Igna signaled no, “-we did nothing,” added a very vocal Syhton, “-my daughter and I came for lunch, we were then ambushed by these unruly men and forced to endure their sailor mouth. I tell you, I haven’t heard such vulgarity since the streets of Anene. Is there no security in this fine establishment?”

“My lady,” the chef spoke slowly, “-we meant no disrespect,” he scowled at the ruffians, “-by any means, we take great joy in serving only the best for everyone’s experience.”

“Excellent, do have these men leave,” he stood and faced the restaurant, “-as an apology for the nuisance, allow us to pay for your lunches. Order what you please,” he turned at a waiter, “-bring out the best wine money can buy. May the delicious meal quench thy palettes from these unruly characters.”

“To the noble,” cheered one, “-to the noble,” the room joined. The ruffians were escorted and the restaurant regained its tender atmosphere.

“My liege, it is strange to see you here.”

“Likewise,” he smiled, “-would you believe me if I said I flew all the way to enjoy your food?”

“No, no,” chuckled the chef, “-I can’t stress it enough, my liege, I’m grateful for what you did. Without your help, my family would have been ruined.”

“Please, long as good food is served, I have no complaints.”

“Thank you, my liege,” he shuffled to the side, whispered a few words into the manger’s ears, and left. The latter approached, “-my lord, my lady, would you please follow me?” they passed under a golden chandelier and entered a privileged area, “-please, have a good meal.”

“Finally,” Syhton exhaled, “-now this is fit for royalty.”