The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 917

Chapter 917: Added Intrigue

Empress Eira’s gilded gates closed with a loud humph, she turned her head inward, passed the corridors, and climbed stairs until a particularly ideal room. Hands upon the golden handle, the door opened inward to a gathering of men in suits.

“My lady empress,” said one hidden behind a veil of animosity, the Arcanum, “-we heard a rather unruly someone paid a visit. Care to explain the detail of the conversation?”

“And for what sadistic pleasure must I lay bare natures of a conversation I had with my brother. Really,” she squinted, “-I’m sure the many maids at the manor shall suffice to give a sufficient enough explanation. We’re under house arrest, trapped in thy ever perpetual paranoia,” icy cold air gathered at her feet, “-if not for the sake of Alphia, I’d have hunted you and your family – slit their throat and watched as the warm blood melted froze at my ire.”

“Lady Eira, please don’t get angry at him,” added another friendlier voice, “-the man’s but angry at the possible return of the King of Hidros. Thee knows, yes?”

“I know,” she replied, “-I’m bound to serve the throne until thy greed is satiated.”

“Phrase that way,” they laughed, “-makes us look very evil, doesn’t it?”

She simply crossed her arms, “-are we done?”

.....

“Yes.’

“Good, tell my husband he need not return home. I will take care of our child, have him suck thy members while he’s at it; the useless piece of shi” the conversation cut, leaving a bitter taste in Eira’s mouth. ‘-Why did I ever get married,’ she threw the door, shoved aside eavesdropping servants and stormed to her private chambers, ‘-be an empress said father, it’ll be great he promised. Look where we are now, stuck doing the bidding of another. God,’ her rage manifested in icy cold breaths, ‘-Markus and his damned family can go do hell,’ doors opened again, a golden glow escaped, her anger quietly vanished, “-mother,” leaped a little girl comfortably dressed in a wonzie, “-can we play?”

“Gallienne,” she exhaled, “-come here, you little angel.”

Meanwhile, Igna and Medusa spent their time at a resort, peculiarities of Haania’s death hidden plainly. Kul, vested in her standard suit, held her sunglasses on the tip of her nose as she peered over at the hospice. For the death of such reported magnitude, there sure weren’t a lot of people, media would have easily swarmed the poor lass’s family in attempts to gain a few bucks. ‘There,’ her focus narrowed, two smartly dressed men exited a lavish car and hurried to hospice’s front, ‘-I remember,’ a tap on the watch conjured a medium size holographic display, “SSY, call Diamon.”

“H-hello?” escaped moans and pants.

“Diamon, am I interrupting?”

“No,” few shuffles and shushed grits cleared the channel to an audibly cleaner area, “-how can I help, lady Kul.”

“Diamon, I need information on these two,” images crossed the channel, “-I remember spotting them around the red-light district. Human traffickers if I think back?”

“My lady,” her tone sent a troubled vibrato, “-speaking of them is taboo at the moment. I can say one thing, the district’s gearing for a festival. Wine and meat will be on the menu,” distant cries interrupted, “-come on already,” said a manlier tone, “-I need to head in a few minutes.”

“I got what I need,” said Kul.

“Always here to help,” the call ended.

‘Trafficking, here I thought the ordeal was over. Starix’s foresight of controlling the trade instead of letting the matter get out of proportion help but to slow the problem. Haania was assaulted and beaten to death,’ she flicked across the display, “-SSY, search for Haania.”

*Incoming call: Starix.*

“Hello?”

“Come to my location, right now!” cried the retainer.

“Understood,” no question’s asked, she slammed on the pedal and tore across the empty streets. It would take less than a few minutes for her to get to the border of the southwestern side of the map, a region tied with territorial dispute amongst the newer gangs. Muzzle flashes lit the skies, unfinished roads and semi-built buildings provided much in ways of cover.

*Huff, puff,* “-Kul,” Starix’s bloodied face lit, “-you’re here, I’m glad,” he held his shoulder, “-I’m shot but okay.”

“What happened?” she asked.

“Ambush,” he cringed, “-it was well planned, got past our magical defenses. The way they fight,” he coughed, “-trained individuals, not gang members.”

Bullets whistled and exploded a man’s brain, “-fuckin’ hell,” innards of the guards sprayed upon Kul’s growlingly intense visage. “Go get them,” said Starix, “-for the sake of our men.” Gun fired stopped periodically, a silhouette of a lady walked from Raven’s side, guards stopped and stared, many, still breathing bled from their wounds, others covered and shook, barely able to aim their weapons – yet, in the traumatizing agony, those who covered veered their heads and screamed the loudest. There was nothing worse than letting a comrade die, and if one died, another would spring to avenge said death; such was the code of loyalty amongst the fighters of Raven. None upheld said ideal more than lady Kul, arguably, one of the strongest figures in all of Alphia.

“Rest, men,” jolted across the minds telepathically. Her body altered, terrifying orbs of black summoned at her back, her nails sharpened, the hair undid itself and hovered, a wing-shaped aura rose at her back and sharpened into lances, no disputing the fact – before them rose someone who broke through the highest rank of being a demon-lord to reign as a contender to princess of hell, a title, and rank awarded to the strongest demons.

Outlines of the fighters showed through walls and barriers, a flick of the wrist teleported projectiles at the attackers who but saw a flicker and death. Others brave to fire had their bullets swallowed and crushed into sprinkles by other orbs, a mental map of the attackers formed, a line of best fit linked head with head, “-die,” one of the lances darted following said line and beheaded everyone and everything in its path and returned. Kul reached and nonchalantly grabbed the bloodied lance, her feet touched the ground, her hair landed upon her shoulders, and the orbs vanished, “-SSY, Medics.”

A team of experts was dispatched via helicopters, remnants of battle were erased – far as the city was concerned a skirmish had broken out between the local gangs. Starix took much in ways of damage, “-surgery,” sighed Asmodeus, “-we could have used a healing spell,” argued the prince, sitting on a metallic array of seats pressed against a lonesome corridor wall.

“Got here too late,” returned Kul, “-surgery’s fine. Might have a scar, time was of the essence, and waiting for someone adept enough to heal his wound, well, sounds insane just saying it out loud.”

Mammon and a row of investigators stormed the hall, “-Inspector Cornword,” said Asmodeus, “-what brings you here?”

The smart-casual-dressed Inspector rose his gelled back hair, fixed his glasses, and looked around accusingly, “-Raven,” he said, “-Asmo.”

“Yeah?”

“I have good and bad news.”

“Good one first.”

“The incident will stay off the record. No one wants to get involved, department’s scared of what it means,” he reached into a briefcase and pulled a badge, “-look here, the insignia of Elendor’s PMC.”

“Elendor?”

“Yes, the sell-sword of the empire.”

“Thought they were inactive since King Juvey swore not to fight again, why, what’s the matter?”

“Let me ask you a question. What do you do when a sword is worthless?”

“Throw it away or replace it,” the realization hit simultaneously, “-it’s them,” added Kul.

Cornword nodded affirmingly thus confirming the doubts, “-the barbarians have become part of the Empire.”

“Hard to confirm,” cringed Asmodeus, “-we don’t know much of what happens in the empire. Information is scarce between the nations.”

Kul rose from her seat, “-a little visit to an airport is in order. No way they could have flown or even taken the road, it’s improbable.”

“Improbable it is,” he said, “-for you see,” the man took out another parcel, “-fragments of a teleportation device...”

“Not again,” went across the mind silently, “-not again, not when Odgawoan’s finally recovered from the monster invasion of the north.”

“We’re of the same mindset,” said the inspector, “-it took quite an effort to dispatch the monster and the army.”

“Well, I should get going,” said the inspector, “-Lord Asmodeus, I hope Raven has a solution. We don’t want Odgawoan at the mercy of PMCs. I’ll look for some other avenues – it thee have any secret plan or weapon, time’s nigh my friend, time’s nigh.”

“Brother, I’ll go with Cornword.”

“Understood, brother Mammon, take care.”

“You too, brother.”

No matter how much they went over why, no answer sprung, “-thinking about it won’t do anything,” added Kul, “-there’s something I need to follow up on.”

The prince handed a file, “-there, information on the guys. Diamon sent ’em when you were in battle. Be careful, Raven consciously stays away from them, reason’s on the first line,” she opened the clip and read, “-associates of Cimier.” Kul simply turned and left, her silence spoke volumes, ‘-sorry about that, Kul. Cimier’s not an entity we should engage, we already stand at the top, and there’s no point in risking our position. Election’s soon, can’t afford to have scandals, Odgawoan must remain in our control to level the playing for Alphia and Hidros.’

Next day rose peacefully for Igna and Medusa. Breakfast was at their bedchamber. Exchanging a warm cup of tea over the balcony spread onto the idyllic sea-scape soothed the coldest of souls. “-Man, last night was refreshing.”

“I know,” commented Igna, “-never realized a massage could do the body so nicely.”

“I know,” added Medusa, “-and the food...”

*Incoming call: Asmodeus,*

“Hello?”

“Master, we’re in trouble. Please make way to the casino, I’ve already sent the details. One more thing, Starix’s at the hospital recovering from a severe injury,” Igna’s tranquil expression closed, “-Medusa, enough fun, we need to return.”

Return they did for a jet waited patiently – three and half hours later, the busy cityscape rose over the airfield. A sport’s car waited shy of the hangar, “-master,” hailed Kul.

“Something the matter?” he asked, “-I never knew you to be this kind of person. Tell me, what’s the matter?” he entered the front seat, Medusa hopped in the back and winked at the tense Kul.

“Where too?”

“The hospital,” he answered. First few minutes were silent and a little suffocating, Kul eventually broke the ice, “-master, we lost a lot of men.”

“I read the report – barbarians are behind the attack. Same who beat Loftha within an inch of her life. Fragments of a teleportation device, if it’s complete, we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Elendor hasn’t said anything.”

“They may be tied with human traffickers.”

“Pardon?” her suggestion was wild and begot a wide-eyed, ‘-huh?’ from Medusa.

“Sorry, I was thinking aloud.”

“No, it sort of makes sense. The attack happened in an area where they’re known to frequent. The route’s also used to transport cargo by Raven, a little bit of studying and one can easily trace and understand what Raven’s up to. Starix smartly mounted a decoy run based on his gut – the man’s clever, I admit that. Teleportation technology is available to one research facility, the Cobalt Unit. It ties since none of the barbarians have ever stepped foot in the city. Speculation aside, we know they attacked,” the hospital came in view, “-and made a big mistake.”

“Hello, master,” greeted Asmodeus, “-how was the parle?”

“Not worth mentioning,” he darted for Starix’s room, “-my, don’t look so good do you?”

“Master.”

“Save your strength, we have people to catch,” a flick of the wrist remotely shut the door and closed blinders, *Raphael, Archangel of Restoration; thee who sits uninhibited by the flow of time, reach down and extend a helping hand to the miserable and manifest thineself, for I, Igna Haggard, demands so,* a portal slit reality and materialized the angel with a v-sign, “-hello master.”