“For a student of sorcery, your house has surprisingly few books. You must be a frequent visitor of the libraries.”
Gaius stood silently in a corner, watching the most powerful man in the city take a casual swig from his pocket flask. Benedictus stopped and stared at him for a moment before setting his flask down on the table.
“Come now. No need to stand on ceremony.” He conjured a shiny golden cup, which filled itself up with water immediately. “Tea?”
Gaius pulled out the stool from under the table and set himself opposite Benedictus warily, nodding at him. The Mage grinned and tapped the cup twice, turning the liquid inside into a clean brown colour.
“Not much of a talker, are you?” Benedictus said. “At ease, boy. No one else knows I’m here.”
“To what do I owe the honour, sir?”
“So you’re not jumpy, just quiet. A very respectable choice of demeanour.” Benedictus snapped his fingers and his staff shrunk, disappearing into the air. “I’ll apologise for disrupting your rest by getting straight to the point. May I have a look at the tome you took from the sky library last night?”
“I’m not sure what you mean. My house is pretty small,” Gaius replied in a monotone voice. “And as you have already noticed, I prefer to do my readings in the library.”
“Really?” Benedictus’ smile did not extend to his eyes. “How do you cast your spells then? A Sorcerer’s power lies with the book he carries, be it concealed or not. Where is yours, Gaius Matthiou?”
Gaius flinched at the sound of his meta surname, jumping out of the stool. Benedictus took another huge gulp from his flask and chuckled slightly.
“Must you act so surprised, Gaius? I think it’s fairly obvious from your spellcasting that you are no ordinary Sorcerer.” Benedictus stood up, pacing around his house. “All children born of a magi-meta couple will be stillborns, so you definitely are not some kind of halfling abomination as well.”
“I’ve seen you in action. Those aren’t really fireballs you’re throwing, are they?” He examined the fireplace with his hands behind his back. “They are balls of raw magic that release and hold energy in place. Raw magic drawn from that peculiar energy dwelling within your body, allowing a meta like you to manipulate arcani like a normal magi.”
Gaius watched the man warily.
“A very unique brand of magic indeed,” the Grand Mage continued. “And one not so different from the book you took from the sky library. Isn’t that why your magic resonated with it?”
The boy unclenched his fists. He was not very well versed with arcani studies, but the president had a scarily accurate interpretation for his condition. He ached for a further explanation, but he had yet to determine if this man was a friend or foe.
“Why are you telling me this?” Gaius asked.
“Back in the old days, there were many…. misunderstandings. Regrettable ones,” Benedictus said bitterly, turning away from the fireplace. “What happened to your parents was unfortunate, but sadly, too late to change. You, however, are an accomplished Sorcerer and most importantly, still alive.”
He returned to his seat. “Now, you should’ve deduced by now that I don’t intend to expose your true identity to the world. And frankly speaking, I want to make sure no one ever does. It is unfortunate that I only took up the Presidential Seat recently, but I hope I’m not too late to make amends to you.”
“What do you want from me in return?”
“You’re a sharp boy.” Benedictus smiled slightly. “I want the same thing as you; to find out more about this magic. I’m not proud of the way things are between meta and magi-kind. And if we could just bridge the gap between the two races, if we could give everyone equal rights-”
He tapped Gaius’ shoulder, smiling warmly at him.
“Then perhaps, the next Gaius Matthiou wouldn’t need to call himself Deusdedit anymore.”
“I…” Gaius’ voice trailed away. All of a sudden, he was a young boy again. A boy begging the unforgiving gods for a just authority to appear and come to his aid. Did they finally answer his prayers? Was this his opportunity to gain enough social power as a magi to actually make a change in society?
“That’s a very attractive proposal, but I have no idea how to get started.” The Sorcerer looked away. “I’ve read almost every book in the library trying to translate the tome, but-”
Benedictus raised a hand, interrupting him.
“That’s what I’m here for, son. Being president comes with quite a number of benefits, owning a personal library being one of them. I have access to a vast amount of knowledge that an ordinary citizen can only dream of having, and I’m going to grant you that privilege as well,” the president said. “But a spellcraft cannot be read unless every single word has been assembled. And that’s where you come in.”
Gaius stared at him blankly.
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“This may be a lot for you to take in, but bear with me,” Benedictus lowered his voice, as though there could have even been anyone else in the house eavesdropping on them. “I suspect that Warlock Vulcan has secretly stolen a similar tome from a past raid, and still possesses it. It’s not a good look for the President to be questioning his Vice President, so I’m going to need your help to investigate that for me.”
“What makes you think he did?” Gaius tilted his head. “He doesn’t seem like that kind of person to me.”
“I don’t mean to belittle you, but you are young and have yet to discern people past the surface level. Vulcan has been siding with metas a little too enthusiastically. And although that appears to be a good thing, I fear he may have other intentions for his seemingly altruistic actions. I do hope I’m wrong, but only you can tell me if I am.”
“So you want me to break into the Vice President’s house undetected and search it for a tome?” Gaius narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “That’s a lot of trust you’re putting in a mere teenager, President Benedictus.”
“I know.” Benedictus flicked his wrist, summoning the invisible book from Gaius’ pocket. “And I hope you’ll trust me likewise. I’ll be back with answers, Sorcerer Deusdedit. Do not disappoint me.”
His staff materialised in his hand again as he hit it against the floor, disappearing in a whirlwind of snow.
----------------------------------------
Lucia Angelo faced the aperture in the stone walls, blowing a puff of cigarette smoke into the cool outside air and gazed into the distance. Stone, stone, stone. Nothing but more bloody stones. Her heart ached for her brother to finish up his project and bring her back to their hometown, to get out of this cold, harsh accommodation. She wanted nothing more than to frolic in nature’s embrace again, to enjoy peace once more.
But the world was upon Titus’ shoulders. And by extension, hers as well.
“You know that’s gonna kill you eventually, right?” His gentle voice lectured her from behind.
Lucia flicked the cigarette out of the window and turned to her brother. Titus was smaller than her, even when she was in her human form. When they were young, people would often assume she was the elder sister, even though Titus was two whole years older than her. Sometimes she wondered if his extreme strength and speed was an ironic play on his stature.
“Only if the authorities don’t get to me first.” She smirked. “You’re done with the experiment? How’s the progress?”
“Not good.” Titus shook his head. “As with the tome at the sky library, our comrades are still losing their sanity. The magi will be arriving shortly to offer his advice.”
Lucia’s face hardened. It went against all logic to suspect the magi who gave them the book in the first place, but she had learnt from a young age never to trust magi-kind. She wondered why her brother seemed to have forgotten that lesson.
“Greetings, my comrades. May I have a look at your experiment subjects?”
Lucia looked up, so lost in her own train of thought that she had failed to notice the masked magi in the abandoned castle. Dressed from head to toe in annoyingly pure white robes, he called himself ‘The White Locust’. Lucia supposed it was a neutral enough name for anonymity, though she could not fathom why anyone would fashion himself an alias named after a pest.
The White Locust had broken them out of the gaols many years ago when they were incarcerated for rallying metas to demand for more equal rights. He extended his hand of cooperation, granting them the means to reclaim the superiority of meta-kind by means of a special spellcraft embedded within two tomes. A spellcraft that could give metas the ability to wield arcani just as magis do, or so he claimed. Though suspicious of his motives at first, her brother quickly established a common cause with him: To realign society with nature’s intentions and revive the glory days of metas.
Lucia folded her arms, leaning against the wall. She did not share her brother’s lofty ideals, though. All she wanted was a safe home to return to without suffering the injustices of being born the wrong race. But if it takes burning down the homes of their oppressors to achieve that, she would gladly reach for the matchsticks without a second thought.
“That won’t be necessary. The sight of a magi may frighten them even further,” Titus replied. “You gave us this spellcraft, and we have completed every step. Why are our comrades still turning rabid?”
“The answer is simple, Angelo.” The White Locust’s voice was magically distorted, making it impossible to tell if it was masculine or feminine. “The spellcraft was embedded within three tomes instead of two. It is still highly unstable because we only have one book.”
“You deign to tell me this only now?!” Titus’ voice echoed loudly around the empty walls.
“Watch your tone, Angelo. It was not I who failed to steal the second tome from the library.”
Lucia’s boots clacked on the floor as she walked up briskly to the magi. “It wasn’t our fault that the Guardian Council decided to show up while we were still testing the spell.”
“I hope your results were worth the trouble then. No matter, we already have our proof of theory,” the magi continued. “Now that we know that the spellcraft allows a meta to passively absorb arcani from the air, here’s the seal to keep all that power in.”
“Spare me your flowery prose and get to the point.”
“Their minds are shattering under the strain of arcani. The essence of psychic based metas could stabilise the chaos in your comrades’ minds.”
“You’re not suggesting that we simply recruit these metas to our cause, are you?” Lucia said, pulling out a set of power nullifiers that glowed a dull red. “You mean for us to take their power by force.”
“Their sacrifice will be honoured. Given the sheer density of the spellcraft, it would be wise to syphon the power of at least five such metas to keep all that instability under control.”
“What? Absolutely not!” Titus said. “We’ll be harming our own kind!”
“Come now, brother. Do you think the metas who turned rabid enjoyed their last moments?” Lucia replied coldly. “Besides, these nullifiers have been modified to extract a meta’s essence painlessly. They wouldn’t feel a thing.”
“Still…”
“And we won’t have to hunt down too many metas.” Lucia smirked. “Following his logic, one powerful psychic should suffice in place of five weaker ones.”
The magi nodded while Titus stared at her dumbfounded. A dark expression crossed her face.
“And I have just the right person in mind.”