Somewhere else in the city, a Cat jeered to itself. A triumphant laugh echoed off the abandoned walls of the decrepit dwelling. As the black creature clutched two objects, one silver, the other a glass orb. An eerie glow reflecting off the silver, pulling distant and warped images from deep within its surface, presenting the object of these creatures's desires.
The image flickered and faded, a mere shadows passing. Darwin steadied himself and tried again to manifest, even for a moment, conjure up a clear image. Searching in this manner was exhausting, but he had to keep watchful of the Demon's movements, to understand what the monster was doing in his body.
Though he shuddered at the idea of their next unpleasant meeting.
Deliberately turning his attention to the current item of carefully chosen fancy, The image upon the spoon, depicting a large brass bell high above the city skylines and strange golden peaks surrounding it, with a raised inscription saying "Long live Hapsburg, Long live Us All." in the hardened metal.
The Cat licked his chops with lecherous ideals, The Bell of Heralds, the city's most prized possession. Crafted by the Orthodoxy to celebrate the City's founding and to commemorate the Hapsburg family as the Princes of this region. It was long suspected to have been infused with magical power by the Orthodoxy, but which enchantment they used has always been in debate, and vehemently denied by the Church itself that such enchantment existed. if there was such an enchantment, only the infamous Orb of Magnificence could directly rival it, if the rumors were true.
The image faded as quickly as it had come, but there was no disappointment in him. He already knew where the Bell was. Where it had always been, atop the central spire of the Church at the center of town, often called The Heart Church or The Center Church, because of its location as the exact center of town.
He'd often dream of unlocking its secrets and making use of some fantastic power locked within, one of several items and texts he wanted to try, actually. And also the item he would've had the greatest trouble reaching. If any mage set foot in the Sacred halls of the Central Church, they'd find themselves short of breath. And unable to produce anything more than the smallest of magical powers.
Submission of the Will they called, supported to remind mages that God was of a grander power than their paltry tricks. An item that was engrained into the building's construction.
Incidentally, it also made for a fantastic security system. Only members of the Orthodoxy could use functioning magic within those halls. And he was sure that attempting to enter there would strangle him in his current state. Not that he wanted to go there at all.
This had been a successful test of his scrying powers, and though he had once had plans for the Cherished Bell, it was currently out of his reach for now. For Now.
He shook a touch of exhaustion from himself and concentrated, letting the waves of himself enter the city and return in the self-same and subtle fashion as the Cat magician had sent them. Creating images and sensations of things around him. He expelled his desires and drew in the returning striations.
They cast the reflection in metal as his desires manifested, warbled and twisted as the dark shapes turned pale and grainy, rough turning smooth, and a sensation of hewn wood and dried ink appeared to fill the room. The Cat grinned as the shape that appeared in his viewing glass shimmered into existence.
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He was looking at the form of a man or at least he guessed it was a man anyway, fully formed from wood? Painted with cheap ink and, from what he could see, covered in engraved markings.
It took Darwin a moment to realize what he was looking at before the image faded.
It had been a puppet, unique in that it resembled a system built and designed by his hated rival, Artman Tobias Wolfram. Back to his old Phantom Penman trick.
He snickered. What a chump. If he wasn't an one trick imbecile, he'd call the man a genius.
In their school days, Artman was head over heels for a young duchess, but she lived several counties away and the letter office remains woefully inefficient. So solving this issue, and to impress their Master, Father Brion, Artman created a device He'd dubbed The Phantom Penmen.
A mechanical wooden hand on a stand that would mimic the hand gestures and writing motions of a magician over Long distances. It was a clumsy idea, inspired but impractical.
He, Darwin himself, had taken the idea and attempted to improve the design. A Letter writing table that functions in a broader but similar fashion to Artman's model. Mimicking writing at a distance for messaging, while using established stationary devices.
He presented the improved model to Father Brion. Artman was furious when his improvement had outpaced the original invention and swore a vendetta.
Darwin's face soured as he remembered the incident. The Base concept had been flawed in either case and the machine he presented couldn't transmit any farther than the next room over. Father Brion was most disappointed when he had to explain that part.
It wouldn't be until the infamous Wind bolt incident and the destruction of a guardhouse that Father Brion expelled them from proper Mage circles.
Ungrateful cur, He will rue the day he forced Darwin St. Zachery Von Helmut from Glory
He huffed at the bitter memory, To be upstaged and harassed by that womanizing twit was disgusting. But now, he was relying on the half-finished work of others.
He huffed again and turned to his scheming once more. Ill temper bubbling with purloining machinations.
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Artman wiped his brow after placing the finishing touches, working on the new model.
Something he'd long scrapped and longed to complete. It was a wonderful manikin. His uncle was a carpenter, and had graciously agreed to help after he'd helped to ease the man's aching back.
This Wooden Man would finally put him back into the good graces of his master. Father Brion had already seen it and was ready to accept its presentation to the Council. If all went well, He would be an institutional mage again.
Artman tipped a flask into his mouth. He already knew it worked. He'd taken it out a few times already, armed with silver ink charms to make it appear flesh and blood. Even that devil of a man, Darwin didn't recognize it when it was practically sitting in his lap at the coffeehouse!
Using it to duplicate the appearance of Alicia was a wonderful gag, making it act so scandalous in public had him laughing so hard inside that if it weren't for Darwins' cutting insults, he might have accidentally given up the ghost!
To be fair, the illusion wasn't perfect. It would fool any passerby, but less so up close. It hadn't thrilled Alicia, and his duel with Darwin went about as expected. Fortunately, the Model wasn't damaged when it collapsed on the paving stones.
Thankfully, he wasn't a fool that kept all his money on him in public.
He added another finishing touch to the engravings and yawned loudly and prepared himself for bed.
Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the sleeping form of his favorite mistress now accomplice, Mavin, already beneath the sheets, dark curls spread out across the pillows, bright grey eyes closed in blessed slumber. He smiled to himself. "Worth Every Penny."
He mused, fondly remembering her shapely forms and dancing eyes that had become his muse and model over the tiresome working days.
"Worth every Penny," he said a little louder. Standing up, he put out the lamp next to him and sauntered over to the bedside, he brushed her cheek gently, tucking a curl of luscious dark brown hair aside before spreading the sheets and settling in behind her quite slumber form, unconsciously her body pressed against his as he placed his arm over her body protectively.
Dreaming of tomorrow's trials and former pleasures. He recalled a promise made, to a bittersweet memory, with a pair of Foxe's eyes smiling back at him.