Two years ago, in a demonstration of power, Rainee Althaiez drove a car to parliament, flaunting his wealth and ability to afford an average salaryman’s car. On that same day, albeit in the late night, he then blew up the building.
According to a statement released, Rainee was then quoted as saying, “Dear lord, I hate you mages and vampires, stop trying to boss me around. I just want to live in peace and yet you guys are such authoritarian assholes.”
And just like that, disaster struck.
Without so much as resistance, The United States of Aoel, the most powerful nation in the world, was left in shambles. Unable to rein in their most powerful nuclear deterrent, they had become the victim of several political debacles, threatening their international reputation in the process.
Since then, 84 separate attempts at Rainee’s life have been made, the common variable between all of them being that none have succeeded.
But that changes today. Because Rainee Althaiez, for all he's worth, has yet to face me. As narcissistic as that might sound, I have to say that the name 'Azama Meyos' really makes a difference. That is, any mission or objective ascribed to or involving said character statistically has a much higher rate of accomplishment than to some random goon with a pistol and cheap kevlar.
Said character, of course, being good old me. Standing in the dim light of a late afternoon. Holding several corrugated card boxes in my left hand. And reaching out with my right.
Well, with what I’m doing out of the way, I would think it's only logical to explain where I'm doing it at. You see, I'm in what you could call a 'suburban neighbourhood' right now. One of those with countless preem houses stacked one after the other. Those type. Boring. But also, not actually. Because in this case, there exists what one might call a 'catch'.
A complication.
A trick.
An otherwise unspoken element that turns the situation on its head.
That catch being, of course, the fact that the 'boring suburban house' I'm, in fact, in front of belongs to Rainee Althaiez.
That's right. The strongest mage in the world lives here. This outskirt, which is, by approximation, 87% quieter compared to the same city. No sounds of bustling markets. No old grandparents yelling. None of those temperate spirits of a jovial society.
Nope! Just silence. Punctuated maybe by the occasional bird song and distant car engine.
Of course, while it remains distinctly well, distinct from what I’m used to, I can’t say that it’s unpleasant. But, moving on. Time to contact Rainee. I seem to have been caught up in my head again.
With everything settled, I proceed to thrust out my right index finger.
There’s a feeling of cold metal. My flesh presses a metal circle of a doorbell. It rings twice. Sending a high-pitched, almost bird-like sound through the apartment.
Before long, I get a reaction. About ten and a half seconds in, I hear a rhythmic tap of footsteps, maybe ten metres away from the door.
A sound rings from the apartment. “Who is it?”
Their voice is mature. Baritone and clear in its expression. No doubt coming from a human with 10% more angst than usual of thirty-one years of age, to be exact.
In other words, the voice of Rainee Althaiez himself.
Excellent.
“It’s the wonderful Azama Meyos; the mercenary sent to kill you.”
“Oh, for real?”
What sounds like quickened footsteps ring out from within the building. It gets further and further, losing itself, then, after a minute passes, reemerges. The wooden door swings inward, and from it appears the head and torso of a dishevelled man.
Long messy brown hair down to his neck, overgrown stubble that barely qualifies as a beard, and just a tiny bit of gut bulging from his shirt.
So this is the famed Rainee Althaiez, herald of peace and destruction. Nice, I so do love the dichotomy of nigh-boundless power and casual negligence.
What a fun and, unfortunately, uncommon juxtaposition.
All in all, his description does match what I discovered. Along with his other features, I also see a pale face and body—symptoms of chronic indooritis, dark bags under eyes—symptoms of lack of sleep, and most amusing of all... A white shirt decorated with animated girls with large eyes and even larger proportions.
Nodding, I stroke my non-existent chin hairs, shifting my eyes up and down his body.
“Sorry about that, I uh,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Was missing a few garments.”
I assume he’s referring to his pants, given how loosely it seem to fit him, how there’s a barely fitted middle button, and how it’s about to make their voyage and expose his nether regions.
“No worries, we all struggle to wear clothes properly after all.”
An attempt at camaraderie, the result of careful planning and familiar associations.
“Haha yeah!” He says, an octave higher. “Totally comes with almighty power, am I right?”
He looks me in the eye. A flash of social anxiety tilts his head down, attempting to look away, but pretending not to do so.
Two seconds pass. We lapse into a state of semi-awkward silence.
Au Cialis. It’s an elvish saying. Meaning ‘Life is sweet’.
The reason I think that is because, for the time being, things are going according to plan. Now that he’s comfortably settled, we can ease into playing the patience game. Giving our good old mage a bit of time to relax and ease in. If my assumption is correct (which it tends to be), Rainee should be looking for a way to introduce idle conversation. And being drawn by the bright colours and familiar imagery on my chest would thereby refer to that.
Having studied his profile, my clothes are tailored to enrapture him in every way possible.
Design. Colour theory. Elvish cartoon girl.
You’ve got it all.
At some point, I even considered just cosplaying his favourite character. But I figured that might’ve been a bit too much on the first meeting. Gotta keep it natural, after all!
“Hm.”
With a grumble, Rainee’s eye darts to me.
Spotting my clothing, he looks at my chest and asks, “So, uh, you a fan of Beautiful Love Magnificent Life?”
He’s referring to the show my shirt labels, which is in fact a spin-off of Exquisite Love Magnificent Day, the elvish cartoon he enjoys. Now the Faerindt Empire and the USA are on relatively good terms (at least superficially), don’t get me wrong.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
We share a lot of imports and exports alike, media along with it.
But it’s still not that big of a trend, more a niche subculture if anything else.
So, you can imagine he’s probably excited at sharing the experience with the occasional someone who enjoys it.
“Yeah, it’s a classic,” I say with a bright smile. “It might be a few years old, but I gotta admit, in terms of animation, soundtrack and story, it’s still some of the best.”
That seems to strike a chord. Although very subtle, you can spot his shoulders untense slightly, losing maybe 13% of their prior stiffness.
“For real, man, like, can you imagine it’s 13 years old, and it’s still getting spinoffs to this day?”
In terms of expression, Rainee is very close to embodying a charismatic salesman right now in the best possible way.
“Yes, I can. My imagination is very vivid.”
“Definitely, dude, I mean god.” Right now, he’s excited to the point that he’s even shaking his head a little. “Ayalië is still my favourite, uh…”
There comes a pause.
It’s evident that Rainee is struggling. Not with the premise of conversation or the slight light of sun, but to resist the urge to use a specific word, that word connoisseurs of his culture associate with animated women they would like to marry.
Unfortunately, he seems to still possess some modicum of ‘self-respect’ and refuses to say it.
On the other hand, bearing witness to his persistence in the face of overwhelming desire is quite entertaining and suitably magnificent for a man of his skills.
“Good sir,” I reply, tapping his shoulder. “I understand.”
His face flushes slightly. Like an unripened peach. A second later, he scratches the back of his head in reflex.
“Well, Azama,” Rainee says, pleased with my introduction. “I suppose you’d prefer to discuss inside.”
“Can’t say I’m too fond of open air and scenery.”
Abruptly and with a clear lack of context, he mutters out a “Nice.”
A moment later, he begins to walk inside. I follow. We both head down a hallway.
On immediate impression, I feel like I’ve entered into a different world. From the creak of wood beneath my feet to the ambience of the illumination and even the smell of vaguely close spring.
Thoughts run through my mind, conjuring images of the Faerindt Empire.
Unlike buildings in the U.S.A which opt for a composite of concrete and pozzolanic materials, the Faerindt, or Elves, prefer more natural alternatives, tending towards a combination of rammed earth and wood in line with their ecocentric beliefs.
I can’t help but imagine how much such a place costs.
Even the lights in the ceiling differ from the usual standard and instead shine a pale ocean blue, the product of the magical bioelectricity f a specific algae native to the Amilie region.
A premium variety too, might I add, one I only had the pleasure of seeing in the Faerindt Embassy and a few specific homes of some very rich people.
“Rainee, Rainee, Rainee, how’d a nerd like you get so tasteful?”
“Haha,” he awkwardly lets out. “Guess I have a lot of free time.”
For a supposed nerd who spends all their time watching shows, I have to say that he has a keen eye for detail.
Perhaps surprising to some is that Rainee’s house even lacks the dirt or mess one would otherwise expect. My assumption is that it’s a result of magic tampering, but there's really no way to say for certain.
His hands are smooth as a baby's, sure, but so are the majority of mages.
As the most powerful man in the world, simple magic to do the laundry and wash the dishes shouldn’t be beyond him. Then again, it’s hard to say what he’s really capable of.
In the first place, I operated on the basis of his being able to read my mind. That is to say; I tried to stimulate my mind to simultaneously reason and gain sympathy while also being jarring enough to throw him off in the scenario I would have to kill him. Yet, if he truly were capable of such an act, then I most likely would have been disintegrated already.
Oh well, perhaps it was for nought. But, hey, training your mind, no matter what is a positive regardless.
Our walk continues in the meantime. Passing through a two-person tall and wide space to our left, we arrive at the living room. Within a minute, and Rainee’s seated himself on a wooden chair. As to pay my respects on equal footing, I sit in the one opposing him, setting my boxes on the floor.
When we sit and look at each other for a good few seconds, Rainee suddenly asks with the finesse of a drunk dwarf. “So, uh, you probably want to know why you’re here.”
Which speaking of, I really do. Because, frankly, there was never any sense in this mission. Both the idea of killing Rainee, and on short notice no less, is illogical. There’s no reason for an association of the USA to want to undermine national security and kill its strongest nuclear deterrent. That and the way it was conveyed was more than suspicious. That being on extremely short notice and through subtle but evident displays of physical discomfort by Miss Walediales.
That leaves only one possibility: It’s not that my employers sent me here to kill Rainee, but the other way around. Since I'm 27% certain that is the case, I would say it's time to think my options through. Maybe it’s not too late to change my circumstances. If I assess my situation correctly, victory might just be possible.
I could attempt to gun him down with the pistol in my pocket, rip out his heart with my hand, or shatter his testicles with a kick.
Or he could do the same, countering my pistol with a firebolt, stopping my hand with wind, or crushing my bones with gravity magic.
Tsk tsk. Well, it would seem all my options for attack are barred. Still, I struggle to think of it as a negative. If anything, I find it quite the quaint turn of events. To think that I’m on the losing end for once. An azamazing twist if I say so myself.
Not only that, but it forces me to improvise and adapt. If physical aggression isn’t guaranteed to produce results, then let's aim for a more diplomatic approach.
Accordingly, I decide to ask a question in response to Rainee’s question from earlier.
“I assume it’s because I killed a friend or compatriot of yours, and you want revenge?”
No trace of anger. Instead, he blinks twice, each one longer than the previous.
“Uh what, no,” he says.
It seems I’m mistaken. He denounces my assumption with wide eyes and head scratches.
Fascinating, so it’s not a matter of revenge. Moving on, I proceed to my third most probable option.
“Then you want a duel to the death?”
Also possible. Mages are renowned for matters of honour and pride. It may be that the strongest mage wishes to test themselves against the most skilled mercenary for no other reason than a challenge. Though, at the same time, that doesn’t match his past actions and the profiling I made…
Can an aspiring young man who never so much as killed someone, or hold a public seminar properly, really conjure up the want to challenge another to a duel?
Probably not, I say!
Then, what is it? What is it that even the Azamazing Azama Meyos cannot solve? What exciting new possibility awaits within this utterly astounding mage before me?
No doubt, noticing my expression, Mr. Rainee Althaiez inhales.
“Ok, I’ll just make it clear.”
Putting both hands behind his head, he proceeds to lean slightly backwards. I see it now. Reflected in his eyes is determination. An unmistakable variety. The sort demonstrated in the face of unwavering fear and the triumph that follows.
Several twitches of his right eye, and he speaks.
“Do you wanna, like, go teach at this place I’m running?”
Teach?
Right then, he very clearly suggested I go ‘teach’ at this place he’s running…
Teach huh?
How very fascinating!
I was aware Rainee had an academy in the works, having gathered as much from a quick internet search. But for him to ask me to teach there is another question entirely.
So with interest in mind, I ask, “Like a mage academy?”
After all. He is a premier mage. As per logic, his first and foremost pursuit in the field of education would be to inspire and help others like himself. It appears, though, with each passing second, that isn’t the case. As stopping to scratch the back of his head, it looks like Raine has something else to add.
“No, like, uhhh.” The mage stops. Before Rainee can finish, he brusquely cuts himself off again.
I look more intensely at his features. He can’t bring himself to look me in the eye. There’s air in his throat, but they don’t leave. All signs of one unwilling to express themselves. Which is a shame because, for the first time in a while, I’m surprised. And not just that, but I’m enraptured by curiosity, joy, and a slew of wonderful emotions. And to think I came here, intent on bribing him with cake. How terrific. All these wonderful variables, all these unexpected outcomes, I wonder what utterly unconventional and creative scenario would unfold!
“Rainee, Rainee, Rainee, finish your sentence, won’t you? There’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
I lean back in a way that signifies comfort and faith. Then, as additional affirmation, shoot him a thumbs up and a wink.
Needless to say, in awe of my utmost sincerity, he’s beginning to muster some confidence.
Frankly, I can’t wait to see where this goes. For a man of boundless power, he sure is underdeveloped in other areas. But really, that only means the potential and threshold for improvement is higher.
Speaking of potential, is that an exhale I spot? A tension of muscles in his body and legs? At last, will Rainee be born a new man, stiffen, shoot upwards, and lean towards me in a spurt of energy?
The answer, of course, is yes!
And so, staring at me a good hand's length away, Rainee, with a burst of conviction, prepares to speak.
“Like the one in the show Beautiful Love Magnificent Life.”
“You mean you started a school based on your favourite elvish cartoon?”
I see him stare steadfast, the only thing betraying his fear being the subtle tremble of his index finger.
“Yes.” Rainee then says.
So this is Mr. Althaiez.
Haha.
No wonder mages hate this man. By their standards, he’s completely crazy and out of control.
Which mage in their right mind, no less one as powerful as he is, would start a magical academy just to replicate the scenarios in their cartoons?
None, I say!
But hey, what difference does it make to me?
If being crazy means having this much fun, then I’m the craziest person in the world right now!
“Say no more. I’m on board!”
With that, it had been settled. Starting from the upcoming day, Azama Meyos, the mercenary, is no more. No longer will he act in service of money and government. But in the ideal of a single man. A man who wishes to fulfil his personal fantasy of having a magical academy, just like the one in an Elvish cartoon.
Awesome.