The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 943

Chapter 943: Passing

“Talk?”

“Yes.”

“Go ahead.”

“Pretty cold, tell me, sister – are you sure?”

“About what?”

“Blatantly playing the opponent. The dirty truth of unity, a common enemy, not emotions of the fulfillment of loyalty, tis the want to see another suffer. If you’re playing said role, I must add, there will be problems later on.”

Her face softened, “-I admit, playing the enemy isn’t fun, or do I wish so. Circumstances have forced me to act, you said it yourself, there’s no point in holding back. I’m certainly not going to be a hypocrite about how I wish to be treated – give criticism to get some. Hidros’ the only bastion remaining to me and my family, no way I’m going to sit back and watch the fucks from Wracia ruin it all, again. I know how ruthless the church is, experienced it firsthand,” her fist curled, “-taking away my family, people I loved, and on an auspicious day for marriage no less. Brings me to sheer anger – the memories are present, I know every detail, every emotion, it’s a pain. Don’t worry about me,” she rose a hand onto his shoulders, “-I’ll be fine, long as work is done, I’m happy,” said a somewhat gentle smile, “-my family is here, Gallienne’s lucky to have a father. I appreciate the concern, Igna,” he tapped his cheeks, “-I’m happy you care, truly,” she leaned and mumbled, “-about time you care for yourself, little brother.” She left on said note, throwing a wink and giving a brief wave.

.....

Their exchange left Igna stumped, ‘-Eira is amazing,’ he puffed, having surveyed around the castle to the outer walkway, ‘-she’s willing to do anything for the kingdom. I’m glad.’

Ministry of Defense said a bronze sign in black lettering. Towering office buildings populated the inner-castle town, a place once accessible to the public, a place where the once newly crowned king allowed the populous to visit and voice their worries at the castle turned headquarters. Along the years, said luxury of communicating with public servants casually became less of an option, eventually dying out for a more distant approach. *Whistle,* nodded Minerva, “-a lot of space,” she looked to the side and noticed movers, workers, and craftsmen of dwarven nature perform their duties diligently. General’s department was first settled. Office buildings were a few stories high by which their scale could be seen from outside the castle walls – the top floor tiptoed over the jaunting protectors. The architecture was reminiscent of the olden day and with improvements to the overall sturdiness.

“Angio,” side-glanced Minerva, “-what’s with the sorry expression,” she narrowed, a few days elapsed since the council meeting.

“Nothing,” he said in a spiteful sigh, “-I don’t know why I wasn’t assigned to the king’s inner circle.”

“Are you daft?” she chuckled, “-an angel of lucifer’s world has no place to stand beside our king. Stop being a prissy princess and let’s get to work,” they entered the ground floor, stepping over cobblestone stairs and passing automatic doors. Layout inside was subject to change and improvement, each department had an allocated budget for renovation – all opted for the default option seeing as it fits and surpassed the set criteria. Ministry of Defense, under the general’s watchful eye, employed competent officers ranging from intelligence to warfare. Angio was forced by her side, as she often commented during lunch hours. Thus, the ministry had a firm foundation, her blunder in the Vigrant archipelago always vexed, similar to a stain on a favorite shirt – the mistake was theirs, unable to wash or clean, never to see it disappear and forever leering.

Ministry of Finance moved in next door on the following day. Ela’s outfits were branded and lavish, she wore them without care, always supported by a swarm of swooning maids. The castle flowers fell for the queen hard, not for appearance alone, the cat-like personality of hot and cold added greatly to her charm. She spared no time, and on the first day of the department opening – lady Haru of the Trader’s guild and a representative of Phantom, Raven, and Elon’s dynasty were called for a meeting. High-ranking profiles nonchalantly shoved the burden of protection on Minerva’s chaotic arrangement.

The day after, a darker, gloomier department moved in beside Ela’s offices. The Department of Internal and External Affairs, King Igna thought it best to have Eira handle mediation within and outside the kingdom. A choice the countess accepted without so much a word said. Out of the three current departments, Eira’s was rumored to be haunted and overly depressing. Why wouldn’t it be, dealing with public matters on a daily had the staff always on edge; Eira understood the pressure and made certain her employees were fit for slavery. Aside from grueling hours and little to no sleep – they were paid more than average – a budget allocated at Ela’s discretion.

Following Eira’s arrival, éclair settled opposite her offices – naming his department as General Affair, thus the departments colligated – settling private channels linking each of their groups, being no more than a press of a button apart. Said system also linked into Phantom’s sister system, granting access to private aid for the castle.

April shone on the calendars, 20th to be precise. One-month nonaggression expired, and Kreston and Dorchester were yet to fight – the holy army settled at a castle-town cupped within a clearing in the Rotten Thicket, facing the sea at a few hours’ march.

“Bishop Greg, we’re reinforcing our forces. Church send reinforcement, they should arrive in a few months. Guardian Saint of Lucifer’s western sect, Oat, has moved for Krigi. We’ve been losing men for the past weeks. Trenches have been built under the cover of night, a forward outpost in operation, we await your orders.”

“Hold, for now, keep them on edge but don’t advance. General Ares’ yet to announce the next campaign.”

Skirmishes were commonplace, wasn’t difficult to see soldiers left for dead in bushes or worse, exposed to the elements. Life in Dorchester, hard as it is, simply went through the motion. Those able to hunt, fish, and harvest were scared, on the first of April, a cold wind blew from the Winterpar. Winter was here, the temperature dropped below average – a six-month torturous nightmare for Dorchestrians. Closed borders meant no relief for winter, no relief eventually led to starvation. Unmonitored villages made long treks west in attempts of having good faith from Arda.

Castle’s clogs and wheels churned in full swing, a good oiled machine dispatching orders and ways of dealing with the coming winter, predicted to be the worse Hidros would see.

Curtains parted, Igna pushed his bedroom window and stared the piercing wind, ‘-ever since the ministries, my tasks have lessened to the point of a few reports and confirmation of projects and policies. Minerva and Eira seem to be getting along,’ he threw on a heavy coat, finished the morning tea, and exited the apartment, ‘-another day of research.’ By unanimous vote, ministers designated his majesty to depart for Rotherham, a suggestion made by the general.

“We’ve read the reports,” said she, a few weeks ago on an urgent meeting, “-unidentified projectiles have been spotted around Rotherham. Phantom has seamlessly dispatched of the threats and are looking into the matter. Have a look at this,” she shared a file pertaining to weapons testing in Alphia, Igna’s employment of a nuke that ended dispute and war in Whuotan. Resultant images had an impact, “-Hidros has been keen on researching weapons of destruction. Having a better gun is always a plus in battle, therefore, I’d like for his majesty to put the intellect to use and focus on researching Maicite and ways to counter threats from the air. We mustn’t allow for the skies to be conquered, our air force is our pride, similar to the Wracian naval forces.”

“Advent of the ministries will alleviate the burden off the king’s shoulders,” added Eira.

“Thus, allowing for more free time,” commented éclair.

“Majesty,” narrowed Ela, “-at the risk of sounding rude, may we ask for thee to work on something more concrete opposite to chilling around the castle, twiddling thy thumbs, and reading reports?”

“Sorry?” he rose a curious gaze, “-am I to assume thee thinks I’m procrastinating?”

“No, god no,” they refuted in tandem, “-same to how we were assigned position suited to our skills and know-how, would be best for us to have the creator of the first Maicite catalyzer to take the lab by force again.”

“Don’t worry about the projects, master, I will have daily reports issued for thy viewing pleasure,” he tapped below his eye.

“I understand,” he exhaled, soon to find himself at the University of Rotherham. Nights were filled with paperwork, even though éclair said the task would be alleviated, a cynical paranoia had him pull all-nighters.

Early morning around the campus was peaceful. Mist from the coming winter and overall cold had many dress comfortably. Didn’t take long for rumors to spread about a renowned researcher working in Marie’s facility.

He pulled into the lab’s parking lot, shut off the engine, and sat; the phone vibrated, “-hello.”

“Igna, it’s Jude,” she coughed, “-help...” her voice felt flemish, perhaps a cold or worse.

“Take a deep breath,” he ran, “-explain, what happened?”

“We were experimenting with the projectiles, and one of the researchers found an inactivated vile. He thought it was the key holding the answers,” *cough, cough,* “-on opening the item, a burst of miasma... problem’s been contained somewhat,” *cough,* “-he’s at risk of death... you were right,” *cough,* “-chemical warfare...”

Wind in the ears and a thud within the heart, Igna sprinted across the walkway, vaulting over the gate and storming deeper inside at a restricted part of the lab, warnings played in a loop, part of the building was locked out.

“Excuse me,” he gasped, “-where are Marie and the others?”

“On the other side,” answered a researcher, “-we couldn’t get here in time. Until it’s contained, there’s no reaching them, sorry young master.”

“Okay,” the breathing steadied, all the doors and windows were locked, curious onlookers took glimpses at the metallic barriers and left to a quarantine zone stated per protocol. ‘SSY, connection to the server.’

“Connection granted,” said an automated voice, “-greetings, majesty.”

“SSY, show surveillance feed of lab X5,” multiple screens materialized, he skimmed and reached the affected area. ‘-researcher looks like he’s about to time, wait, why would there be a v...’ it suddenly dawned, ‘-SSY, background check.’

*Incoming Call: Marie,*

“How’s the containment?”

“Around 90% complete, the man’s dead, I might have inhaled-”

A bellowing of mana shook the containment room, “-no dying on my watch.”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!

“Came to help,” he nonchalantly looked at the infected, “-signs of the monster plague...”

“Igna, why are you here?” fired Marie.

“To help,” he sighed, “-besides, I had nothing else to do. Grab the suits,” he ordered bystanders, “-let me figure it out.”

“Marie, why’s the king here?” inquired curious attendants.

“I called him,” she exhaled, “-didn’t expect teleportation,” they dove into the protective suits and locked onto Igna.

“Ready?” he asked, throwing caution to the wind.

“DON’T...”

A press unlocked the containment room, and the king brazenly walked inside and shut the doors, stopping at the window to give a few waves.

“WHAT IS HE DOING?” they shouted.

“It’s my fault,” facepalmed Marie, “-should have never called. éclair’s going to be mad, no, screw that, everyone’s going to blame me for the death of his majesty... I see it now,” imagination ran wild, “-the death sentence.”

‘I see,’ he leaned over the unfortunate soul, “-please,” gasped the remaining breaths, “-kill me...”

Igna stood by and watched, “-why should I, traitor. A vile, quite the story,” he narrowed, “-too bad the facility’s hard to infiltrate. Seems weird when I checked the footage, you’re not dying, you’re immune – luring researchers for infection, tell me, who doth thee work for?”

“No one,” he sprung, throwing the right hand armed with a shattered glass at Igna’s neck. Sadly for the man, the devil wasn’t keen on being assaulted unprovoked, martial-arts reflexively parred the glass and chipped into the man’s neck, hitting a major artery and staining the glass crimson.