The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 402

Chapter 402: Larson

“Urgent mission from the Boss, have the jet be readied with the ability to carry a body,” yelled across the various sectors of Rotherham – the airfield turned upside down. People went from left to right, pilots called from break, a prototype jet lifted from the underground laboratory. The hangar opened to a gloomy outside. It took less than an hour for the plane to climb to the heavens.

At the same time, Staxius teleported to Scaica from Dostein, time was of the essence. The phone call earlier freaked the emperor so badly, he knew not how to respond. That much was apparent from the following phone call.

“What did you mean by; use any means necessary?”

“Throw money, blackmail, I care not,” the phone hung with him inside the hotel.

“éclair,” quick to dash out the penthouse, “-infiltrate the investigation unit, I want the location of where the body is.”

“Roger,” came a fast response.

‘Come on, don’t you dare become more of a hassle,’ walking at a running pace; news flashed across the television inside the lobby with the title of Aceline’s death. It was a scandal, a thing of utmost tragedy. Allowing it to perpetually spread throughout the continent would have other repercussions. The mystery of who killed Aceline was still at large and Staxius knew it all too well. For once, the ruling of it being a robbery or obsessive fan was dropped. The reason for said conclusion was Elliot’s report last night; Cimier’s snipers. Out of the building, the car automatically pulled over without a driver. “Any links yet?” asked he to the virtual butler.

.....

“Still foraging the database; Lady Aceline’s body is being transported to Kinele’s General hospital.”

‘A thirty-minute drive,’ he slammed onto the pedal while éclair worked tirelessly.

‘What did father mean?’ sat the Emperor facing an empty screen. ‘Aceline’s dead, what does he want to accomplish?” then the realization hit, “-this can be a scandal,” to which the fingers latched onto the keyboard, the urge to write was there but no idea came. “The Pride of Hidros was assassinated by Alphia. The Argashield Federation might not take this lightly. Arda is allied with us, yes, and Eira and I are courting. The relation isn’t set in stones yet, we’re not engaged and the Federation still views us as potential enemies. How have I been so blind, my alliance is with the King of Arda, not the Federation. Queen Gallienne and her council could vote against father and have malicious intent. This is bad, really bad, Aceline’s death could not have come at the worst time,” a spur of inspiration had one number locked in place.

“General Bashmire.”

“Rare of you to call upon me, your imperial majesty, how may I be of service?” answered a rougher, older voice.

“Am I correct in saying that public safety and the investigation unit falls under thy jurisdiction?”

“Yes, that is true, why?” came a rather cautious response.

“Good, it concerns the matter of Lady Aceline’s death. I don’t want anyone to touch nor lay a hand on her body – make sure it’s preserved. General, you understand the implications, don’t you?” the emphasis had the elder man breathe a chuckle.

“Yes, I do, your imperial majesty, I shall have the force hold and wait for further orders. I swear upon my name, Lady Aceline’s body will remain untouched,” a heavy shadow escaped out the windows as the phone call ended. Sultria’s posture gave to a slouch as rays of light pierced the lesser opaque curtains.

‘The moment a person dies, the body starts to break-down. Freezing can but slow down the process, it’s impossible to bring the dead to life. That is when it concerns the rest of the world. Not in Hidros, not where occult and magic are the main focus of development. Her body will need to be healed using potions, the mana lingering after death should be enough of a catalyst. It’s going to be a process of reattaching her soul – shouldn’t be hard. The Revival ritual; shunned by the magic world, the ritual the late-pope used to conjure an army of undead fighters. Alchemy is going to come into play; the time has come to truly see if the many years of studying and experimenting will do her justice.’

Dim, cold, and sterile, Aceline’s body rested fully naked on a metal table. A singular light flashed against where the bullet entered her body. The room, despite being large, gave the impression of being small.

“Doctor,”

“What is it?” returned the man wearing a mask, “-what do you want, can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve received direct orders to not touch her under any circumstances.”

“Why should I care, she’s dead, and we need to know the cause of death,” the expression through his glasses was of excitement.

“Don’t,” refuted the nurse, “-it’s more than a simple case of homicide. Doctor, please, listen, if as little as a single hair is taken, we’ll be in deep trouble, trust me.”

“Who in the world must have called to have you out of all people shudder?” the mask landed inside a bin listlessly, “-the damned politics, fine,” the walk felt slow until he stormed out.

Towards the east of Melmark, the investigators assigned to Aceline’s case sat in their office. Tightly packed desk with people working tirelessly. Larson sat before a laptop with details on similar cases.

“Chad from division eight speaking. What, oh, alright, are you sure? Ok, thanks, goodbye,” it hung with a cling.

“What has you in a foul mood?” inquired Larson in a mean spirit.

“Got a call from the Doctor, the autopsy was canceled. Says orders came from the top,” the grudge in the voice was palpable.

“Should have seen it coming,” he now leaned in a manner to balance on the back two feet of the chair, “-it happens in cases like these. Always comes down from the higher-ups; watch this, I’ll bet my dinner the next call is from the Director saying us to drop the case.”

*Dring,* lo and behold, the phone call arrived asking the same as he predicted.

“Told ya,” a smug smirk to Chad had the recruit slam against the table.

“I’m not taking this whilst sitting down,” he gritted.

“Chill,” sighed Larson, “-don’t be in such a hurry.”

“But sir.”

“Shut up,” he stood and walked, the footsteps felt menacing in a way, “-I have my methods. Come on, the case is dropped. Thinking about it, I have an aunt who’s at the hospital, want to meet her, she’s very fond of idiots like you.”

“Y-you sure?”

“Yeah, let’s go, the worst thing that could happen is her puking on you. Don’t worry about it.”

A tall white building stood with, *-Kinele’s General hospital,* written in big, readable fonts.

“You must be Mr. Haggard?” asked a man wearing glasses in a black-suit.

“Yes, and you are?”

“The Director of the hospital. I was informed of the arrival, thus here I am. I would be rude to not welcome a King personally.”

“Thank you for the concern,” giving a firm handshake, “-so, Director, the details of why I’m here must be known I presume?”

“Please follow me,” he avoided the question, “-the scene will speak for itself.” Past the elevators and down into a subterranean wing; they walked across multiple glass-windowed rooms with deranged individuals sitting.

“I do apologize for such an awful display,” the hallway kept on stretching, “-ignore the subjects. Past villains, criminals given the death penalty, they were given to us graciously by the Empire to conduct research. Please, don’t misinterpret, tis for the sake of knowledge – what is practice here is humane, in no way do we wish to be seen as the evil.”

“Shouldn’t this wing be secret, why have me walk, I could easily reveal the information to the public,” by insinuating a possible threat, Staxius wished to see the reaction, testing the waters as one might say.

“I doubt it would do much,” grinned the Director, “-the wing isn’t going to be detrimental to the public. The information is already there for them to see, all one needs is to have a good eye,” the steps steadied, “-and here we are,” he pointed at a room, “-the cryogenic chamber. The pod I should say was developed to house people with a fire affinity. To help them calm the flames, in retrospect, it’s basically a massive fridge.”

“And Aceline is in there, frozen?”

“The body is untouched and left as was found. I hope this is sufficient?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “-the cold is going to preserve her as we take her to Hidros. She should return from whence she came, you know, Aceline is our pride.”

“I understand,” came a sympathetic smile, “-I’ll have the pod be readied for transport.”

“Good, how long will it take?”

“A few hours.”

“Good, do give me a call afterward.”

“Very well.”

The clutter of patients waiting at the reception couldn’t have been any worse. In said crowd, two peculiar men stood with badges, “-Larson from Division Eight, I’m here to see the body one last time.”

“Sure, down the corridor, sir, the director should already be there,” said the receptionist. People were subconsciously trained to obey to public safety. The badges were powerful tools.

“How did you do that?”

“Listen, kid, our badges hold more weight than people realize. The moment we show one of these, they are afraid for themselves. In a way, it makes us repulsive. The feeling of wanting to have us go away is like fight or flight.”

“I see,” he nodded.

“Director,” hailed he across the hall.

“Investigator Larson,” returned a rather uninviting voice.

“Come on, don’t be that way,” an obnoxious smile had the director physically distancing, “-to an old friend no less, how very much rude.”

“Old friend or I should say acquaintance,” exhaling, “-what do you want now?”

“A tiny little favor,” he came in close, “-let me take a look at the body. The autopsy was canceled; still, having a look inside wouldn’t bother anyone,” conniving in nature, the words came across awful in the young investigator’s mind.

“Have a look inside what?”

“You heard all that?” laughed Larson, “-I guess gossiping isn’t suited for my line of work.”

“Trying to alter the subject isn’t sufficient,” glared an impressive man, “-the investigation has been dropped per my request. Mr. Larson, don’t make this a matter of state.”

“Per your request?” he frowned, “-who in the hell are you?”

“Such an insolent tone.”

“LARSON, mind thy tongue,” shouted the Director, “-this here is the King of Arda. Any more from that filthy mouth of yours and I’ll have thy tongue cut and plastered onto the trash outside.”

“Director,” interjected Staxius, “-please, there’s no need for such crude words. Mr. Larson was doing his job. It did come across insolent, however, we forgive and forget. Now, if you’d excuse me,” he left with a nod.

“Damn it Larson,” facepalmed the Director, “-why the hell did you come?” the tone lightened.

“I honestly didn’t know royalty was involved, thanks for covering for me,” said he apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it,” he gave a friendly pat, “-go and check on the body, don’t do anything that can get me in trouble,” they parted.

A few minutes later, “-Sir, who even was that? How can a man be so imposing, just looking at him felt wrong.”

“I know,” they walked down the same hallway, “-he’s suspicious and dangerous. There was the look of a man who has killed, no, never mind, let me rephrase. A man who has slaughtered countless innocent lives – a man who’s the pinnacle of what is considered to be powerful.”

“How can you say that he’s powerful?”

“Didn’t you listen, ‘the investigation was canceled per my orders,’ his very words. Do you even realize how much influence a person must have to force the hand of our General. Not even that, I’m sure it’s linked to the Emperor.”

“T-the emperor, w-what then?”

.....

“Nothing really,” he laughed, “-we wait and see. Tis a big ass fish, let me tell,” the footsteps went mute deeper inside.

“éclair,” stood outside, “-have a look into Larson. He might prove to be problematic in the future.”