The Wielder of Death Magic

“MONSTERS!”

“DEMONS!”

“LET THEM GO!”

“The cries of the weak, how very pathetic,” snickered Starix, “-one rule dominates all of existence. The strong win and the weak cower. There is no arguing fate anymore. The weak have chosen their path in life, and for once I’m glad that the weak are so pathetic. Long as your ignorance remains a part of this world, there shan’t be any improvement to the many lives thee rule.” In a way, the words he said came off as unimportance, weirdly irrelevant, or such as a common thought seeing loved ones beheaded so cleanly – emotionlessly. A line of captured heirs queued. Heads shrouded by dark heavy sacks. The stench of blood, the rusty iron, came from both the death reaper’s contraption and the fallen. It was no humane banquet.

“To think the guillotine was made to be humane by other humans. No other race has gone so far as to take the art of slaughtering one’s own kin to such extremes. Perhaps it’s one of the reasons why humans are always present, never to die or yield; always speculating and conniving.”

“Cora, the words fall on deaf ears,” commented Formle, “-Yuria and Kaleem have been taken by alcohol. So much for the elite guard.”

.....

He sipped and watched – the damning sound of the blade being raised – a purposeful scraping noise that lasted eons for the damned. At last, from their binds – the captive lifts his blurred vision to a crowd of maniacs. Morbidly obsessed fanatics; are common people who gave their sorry excuse for sympathy by half-hearted attempts at hiding their smirks. A shadow looms, and the executioner whispers last words and pulls. The lever snaps into a secondary state – thus the blade flashes downward – severing the head of the condemned instantly. The conscious head ends in a basket – watching as the world drowns in a sea of black. An overhead chandelier breathes the sun’s would-have-been rays. A tap unbuckles shackles. The crowd collectively cringes – revolution had yet begun.

A mountain of headless bodies piled, “-Now,” Starix approached and voiced loudly, “-about my lord’s deal. What will it be?”

“TAKE ME INSTEAD OF MY DAUGHTER!” thundered a man. The traumatized crowd turned to see a well-known political figure, “-I care not for what happens to my property or my land. Allow me to take the place of my daughter,” pled Baron Ryuen, “-take what you may, do what you wish, I humbly ask for mercy. I’m weak, I have nothing to offer save my body and my soul... please, my lord, consider my offer. The other lords have watched as their kin are slaughtered. Children not of age, children not of mental capacity to understand the world around, what must I do, what should I have done? The weak shall always contemplate their weakness as the strong relish the thought of choosing fate and playing god. I pray to my goddess Syhton that thy sins are forgiven and forgotten. May you find peace in your actions, may this world grant the sinful peace as the righteous are forever cursed to walk the path of the martyr.”

“Finally,” came from the contraption, “-a man of guts and intellect. Ryuen, you have passed the test,” added Starix, “-the weak are destined to remain weak lest they choose to act. Tonight’s a night of sin, and you, a believer in righteousness, have taken a stand for the life of thy kin.”

Rachie walked to the bowed man. A strong grip cupped Ryuen’s shoulder, “-your family will be spared on one condition.”

“Anything, my lord, anything.’

“Become part of my court,” he said, “-you will act as my negotiator.”

“Are you sure, my lord?”

“Yes,” narrowed Rachie, “-for I have nothing to fear from one who’s already bowed his head for the sake of his children. I know your weakness; must I continue?”

“No,” said the baron, “-I endeavor to serve his majesty, Rachie, with all under my possession.”

“So be it,” the night of the purge ended. A massacre only described as unprecedented shook Zayan D’olsak’s core. Those yielding power and influence were allowed freedom – though, their kin, heirs, were kept at the capital for security purposes.

Smoke rose, and a massive firepit held charred remains. Grieving families knelt, crying and weeping at the atrocities they witnessed.

“What now?”

“Rachie, na?ve ol’ Rachie. Take a seat,” said Starix, “-allow me to explain the purpose of last night’s show of strength,” the conversation went from minutes to hours in a blink. The smoke of the burnt faded as did Starix’s monologue, “-long story short, we had to perturb the unity that could have united the nobles. Take Ryuen for example, the man willingly came to our capital after he noticed the shortage in food. The man’s very cunning, hiding his abilities under the false pretense of total devotion to his goddess. We struck a deal and he willingly surrendered his daughter in our hands. Of course, we’re not so daft as to cross a potential ally. Therefore, to make most of the situation, he became the flicker of revolution. When nobles saw their families being taken to the machine and how we cared less for human lives – the fear burnt into their hearts. More we killed, lesser grew their response – that’s why I asked Ryuen to interject when he sensed the minority vocalize their discontent. Rest is as the night told – he turncoat, setting precedence for the others to follow. The faction split further; the classical tactic of divide and conquer. We’re in a position of utmost dominance – those who chose our side will be well-rewarded. Alas, those who yet remain under the impression of power will be exterminated.” On the last word, the room shifted.

“Guests,” relayed Kaleem.

“Trader’s union?”

“Yeah.”

Starix dawned a cynical expression, “-come on,” he tapped Rachie’s shoulder, “-let’s go make history,” the nervous puppet showed confidence and displayed an unnatural way of adapting to the flow of the room, ‘-he’s more shrewd than I expected,’ narrowed Starix, ‘-he saw what we’re willing to do. Keeping his sister peaceful and joyous should suffice. Well, even if he decides to cross – a simple death spell shall end the miserable life. Don’t underestimate us, especially since we trust none save our own,’ doors after doors, ‘-phase one of the plans completed. Now’s time to finalize Rachie’s claim over the land. Heroes of this world, traders,’ doors opened to a large and simplistic room. The seating arrangement seemed intentional for where Rachie’s faction sat, therein laid a sense of righteousness and power; a combination of light and optical illusions. I’m going to take advantage of everything I can,’ he waited beside Rachie’s chair, ‘-I won’t hold back ever again, this world will fall into my hands. I don’t care how or when; I’ll rule this damned place if that’s the last thing I ever accomplish.’

Two squared-headed men sat squarely. The divide from table to the table seemed a little distant as for their chairs – the latter, per their twitches and inattentive demeanors, said much, “-we’ve come to represent the union of traders,” said an overly loud man, “-the name’s Kieop, and I hail from the southern plains.”

“The name’s Opel, I hail from the Aapith nation as a member of the Rime Tribe.”

“Rime Tribe,” narrowed Starix, “-you’re people are travelers by nature, the lowest-ranked demons throughout the demon world, am I wrong?”

“No, we’re the lowest-ranked.”

“A low-rank means nothing,” interjected Rachie, “-as the Rime tribe is also known as the most influential demons throughout the whole of Draebala.”

“It would seem you’re very well educated.”

“Such trivial matter is best regarded as common knowledge,” elbows on the table and fingers clenched, “-may we start?”

“Let’s cut right to the chase,” inferred Kieop, “-the trader’s tax is far too expensive. A limited supply of food has forced us to scout new locations for the growth of farmable crops. War rages within the main continent, supply is low and we’ve heard of Zayan’s ungodly expenditure on import. What’s your deal?”

“Allow me,” interjected Starix, “-lord Rachie’s not the time to entertain such needless questions. We’ve spent quite a bit on food and have imported various crops. It’s a good thing that our ports are considered major trading hubs. We have valuable access as in we control the shortest possible route to the main continent. A fast delivery results in more profits – more money is a better life. What if control of said ports was deviated to a centralized part, in other words, us. Traders have had a major influence on how goods are distributed and sold. The union of traders has long held the reigns of absolutism.”

“I get the idea,” said Opel, “-would that not harm your reputation with the local lords?”

“No, for you see, the local lords have surrendered their land and power. We control most, if not the whole of Zayan. In other words, seeing the food shortage that ought to come to pass – we effectively hold the key to this realm’s survival.”

“Whoever came up with this plan is surely a man to not be trifled with. Lord of Zayan, allow us to show our utmost support. Please, my lord, what is your wish?”

“To have the leadership of Zayan acknowledged as true and unrivaled. We want support until the time comes when the war against the merciless queen comes to pass. As a favor, we’ll trade our crops and food only to the trader’s union.”

“My, it was wise of me to come personally,” added Opel, ”-allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Opel Ranoe, head of the trader’s union. Rumors of Zayan’s troubled atmosphere forced the better part of my curiosity. Here I am, paying a visit to the man who conquered a kingdom without so much as lifting a sword.”

Just like that, to Rachie’s dismay – the conversation ended, soon to be followed by closed-door meetings between Starix and Opel. Rachie’s attention was required at the palace’s court – backwater nobles came for a chance to surrender their lands and influence to the new king.

A blindfold of complete cluelessness tied, ‘-I hate this,’ gritted Rachie, ‘-I hate not knowing what’s happening. Might have bitten more than I can chew. What a plan it was... infiltrate the household of the first person who shows pity on me and my sister. They don’t know the true extent of the pain I’ve suffered,’ an emotionless glaze washed his regard, ‘-seeing people fall at my feet, watching their last breath and unwillingness to act. People are my pawns to use, I don’t care who or what they are if they can further my purpose,’ he stared at himself, the mirror lifted his fa?ade, “-then, it doesn’t matter.”

“Rachie,” a shadier figure loomed against the doorway, “-come on,” said Starix, “-let’s have a little chat.”

The somber landscape carried into the distance. Rachie and Starix brazenly toured the wall-walk, “-Rachie, I hate my doubts. It’s confirmed,” he stopped at a battlement, “-you’re no ordinary orphan are you?”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m more observant than people give credit for. I had a few of my men confirm the story, and let me tell you, we got more information from your little sister than expected.”

“FUCKER!” golden lances flung and shattered at a mystical wall.

“And there’s my doubt confirmed,” he side-glanced, “-keep your spells in check, won’t work on someone who’s blessed by an entity placed higher than the gods. You know how immortality works right?”

“Yeah,” the spell faded, “-only beings of equal or higher rank are able to slay those in the same rank. My sister-”

“Yeah, don’t worry you creep. We didn’t harm her, a deal is a deal. She spoke after a glass of god’s ale. Seem I have invited a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Alas,” he smiled, “-the flock’s no ordinary flock, we’re monster dawning facades. Your past is yours to recount, however, I’d appreciate the backstory. In exchange, I’ll allow you three questions, and it can be anything you wish.”

“Three questions?”

“Yes.”

“What if I ask only one and ask for favors...”

“No, either one question or a favor. No more, no less, tis the best deal you’ll get.”

“I could always refuse.”

“And lose a lifetime’s opportunity. What will it be, Rachie?”