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Lost Magic
Chapter Eighty

Chapter Eighty

Servilia sighed softly to herself as she filed away the last of the day’s paperwork. It had been a long and busy day with many difficult assignments for her to sift through, but she wasn’t overly concerned about the workload. Afterall, the more difficult the assignment, the greater the coin.

As though she were a dragon herself, Servilia loved nothing more than to increase the guild’s hoard, and she couldn’t deny her personal affinity to gold and other shiny things.

The thought of spreading out upon a mountain of gold coins brought a smile to Servilia’s delicate face and she laughed lightly to herself as she made her way to the front doors, preparing to lock up the guild for the night. Just as her fingers touched the heavy lock, she heard a single knock from the other side of the door.

She froze and the smile dropped from her face. Slowly, she lifted up her hand and knocked against the door.

Three sharp raps returned.

Servilia’s fingers curled in so tightly her knuckles popped as she knocked back a single time.

The guild door creaked open ever so slightly and the cool night’s air slipped through the crack. The wind washed over her suddenly feverish skin. A thin envelope pushed through the opening.

With great effort Servilia unclenched her fist and took hold of the paper. The messenger on the other end held onto it tightly. A single brown eye appeared in the opening. Servilia met the owners gaze and gave a single nod.

The messenger’s grip lessened and Servilia pulled the envelop through. The messenger continued to stare at her for a moment longer before abruptly turning away, slamming the guild door shut as they did so.

The noise echoed through the empty guild hall, quickly accompanied by the heavy, metallic thunk of the doors being locked. Servilia stood there in the deafening silence. Her hand, still clutching the envelope came up to her chest, willing her speeding heart to slow.

A reedy breath escaped her lips and she stiffly made her way to the stairs, quickly finding her way into her room. Carefully closing the door behind her, she sat down at her desk and placed the envelope on the table in front of her.

The envelope was made of a plain, yellowed paper. It was rough to the touch and with very little give. Something that was common of Romiatii paper producers. There were no markings on the outside, not that Servilia expected there to be any. A single piece of string kept the envelope secured shut.

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Her hand trembled ever so slightly as she picked up a small penknife from the corner of her desk and cut the string.

It took her another breath before she could even open the envelope and pull out the single sheet of paper inside.

The handwriting was neat, with an elegant slant that contrasted harshly with the complete nonsense that lined the page. Her breathing grew rapid as her eyes traversed the page, running over each line again and again, searing each and every word, every letter, every stroke of the pen into her memory.

To anyone else it would have just been nonsense. Beautifully crafted nonsense, but nonsense nevertheless.

Of course, to Servilia it was far from nonsense.

To Servilia, it was clear as day.

To Servilia, it was what she had been waiting for since she had first joined the guild, no, even before that.

The page crinkled as her fingers curled, the edges beginning to tear as she continued to read, her eyes nothing more than a blur before she finally let out a single, peculiar laugh and slipped down in her chair, her hands falling down to her side as she stared up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.

“Finally. I’ve found you.”

xXx

Banksy was just about to fall asleep when a gentle rapping on his door drew his attention. It was so quiet Banksy almost thought he had imagined it and began to roll back over into a more comfortable position when he heard it again.

"Alright, hang on," Banksy sighed as he swung himself out of bed and grabbed a shirt. He haphazardly pulled it on and put his hand on the door, hesitating for a moment. If Romeo was on the other side of the door with some kind of explosive device, he really was going to kill him this time. But no, Romeo was on a mission. Unless, of course, that was all just a clever ruse to get him to lower his guard.

Banksy quickly dismissed that idea. Romeo wasn’t smart enough to come up with a plan like that.

Slowly, he pulled open the door. He winced slightly at the sudden brightness of the small lantern that Servilia was holding.

"Servilia?" Banksy had a dream that started this way once. He shook that thought away, though not before it managed to bring a slight redness to his cheeks. "It’s like the middle of the night, what’s going on?"

"Nathan," Servilia had a grim line set on her mouth. "May I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," Banksy stepped back and allowed Servilia to pass. "Sorry about the mess. I've been working on some things."

"It's fine," Servilia said as she carefully stepped around the many tools and partially built locks that were scattered across the floor. She slowly turned to look at him and Banksy noticed she wasn't wearing one of her usual dresses. Clad in dark clothing, and with a terrifying number of blades strapped across her body, she made a rather intimidating sight. She actually looked a lot like Lexi did before she went on Hunts.

"So… what's up?" Banksy asked. "Are you uh, are you going somewhere or something?"

"Yes. I am leaving tonight." Servilia's brow furrowed. She seemed to be fighting with what she would say next. Finally, she took a step towards him. "Nathan."

Banksy took a small step back. "Y-yeah?"

"Do you remember what you told me the day you joined the guild?"

"Of course," Banksy blurted out, louder than he meant to. He winced. "Of course."

"Did you really mean that?" Servilia asked quietly. "I swear, I won't hold I against you if you have changed your mind. I know it was a long time ago"

"What? No!" Banksy took a hasty step forward. “I haven’t changed my mind. I swear! Just tell me what you need.”

“What I will ask of you will not be simple, Nathan. It will be dangerous, and it will be illegal. This is not a request for the guild. This is from me. Only me. If something goes wrong… there will likely be no coming back, for either of us.”

"You saved my life. I told you then and I’m telling you now; If you need me, I'm yours. I don't care what it is."

"Nathan…" Servilia gave a single nod and pulled up the hood of her traveling coat. "Pack your gear. We're leaving immediately."

Banksy did as he was told and began to gather his equipment. "Where are we going?"

"Romiatii.”

"Romiatii…" Banksy glanced at Servilia. "Why?"

"The Masters," Servilia's words were almost inaudible but there was a sense of ferocious anticipation in her voice that sent a chill down Banksy's spin. Her hands rested on the hilts of the swords strapped to her hips. "They've finally appeared."