Within moments, his breath became labored, his eyes wide with pain.
“Something’s… wrong…” Ferlo muttered, his voice strained.
“Feels like... poison.”
The young mage smirked, leaning back against the wall in satisfaction.
“Not poison, Ferlo... just a reminder of who you crossed.”
The men around Ferlo looked at each other, unease growing in their expressions. One of them moved to the door. “We need a healer, boss."
Ferlo’s hand shot out, stopping him, though the effort seemed to drain him.
“No… no healers. Distantians will think we’re weak. We can... handle this. His voice wavered, trailing off as his strength began to falter, his entire body sinking into the chair.
The young mage closed his right eye, breaking his link with Black Sting, and took a deep breath.
The spell was complete, and the rest would unfold without his intervention.
He grinned, satisfied, savoring the knowledge that Ferlo would feel the effects for hours—a slow, creeping reminder of Distantias’s power and reach.
“Message delivered,” he murmured, stepping back into the shadows.
"Now, let’s see if they understand it.”
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- Seven Hours Later -
Sylas leaned back in his chair, setting down his papers with a thoughtful look.
As he ran his fingers along the surface of the wood, he gestured for Machivel to speak.
“So, Ferlo Boys have been hit, and their leader, Ferlo, taken down by what sounds like... poison?”
Machivel gave a short nod.
“Yes. Poison, or something far more effective—an curse of sorts. It’s clear this wasn’t just a natural cause. The word on the ship’s lower levels is that Ferlo Boys were the third strongest non-magical organization on Blue Hope, so seeing their leader killed so early on..."
He paused, meeting Sylas’s gaze.
“It signals the start of the battle, without a doubt.”
Sylas arched an eyebrow.
“Third strongest, you say? They were meant to survive longer if they were aiming for power. Strange that they’d be targeted so quickly.”
“Exactly,” Machivel agreed.
“This wasn’t just a random attack. Ferlo had been a thorn in the sides of a few organizations, but none of them had the proximity—or, frankly, the daring—to act this early. This was calculated.”
Sylas exhaled.
“So, do you believe it was a magic attack, then?”
Machivel didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely. There’s no doubt in my mind, Lord Sylas. There are strict distances between each organization on the ship, but only those within the magic factions could achieve this level of precision and lethality without closing in."
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"Think about it, my lord: for a non-magic organization, the logistics of this would be nearly impossible. But a single spell... well, that changes things.”
Sylas tilted his head, intrigued.
“Go on. I want to hear your analysis.”
Machivel settled into his stance, his voice lowering.
“The guards confirmed no one unusual had entered or exited the hallways leading to Ferlo’s quarters before he fell ill, which implies the attack was done from a distance. Only a spell could bypass those security measures. Add to that the fact that magical detectors weren’t triggered, and it’s clear whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
Sylas tapped his chin.
“You’re suggesting something specific. Some sort of assassination magic?”
“Precisely.” Machivel leaned in, his tone measured.
“A spell that doesn’t register as dangerous at first glance yet remains potent enough to act like a slow poison. It would be nearly undetectable—especially in the hands of an experienced mage.”
“Considering the target is an ordinary human being, even a low-level spell would be enough to get the kill.”
Sylas’s gaze turned calculating, his fingers drumming softly on the arm of his chair.
“So, we’re dealing with a mage who’s both skilled and clever. It wasn’t just about power; it was about finesse and subtlety. Someone who understands the art of attack without leaving a trace.”
Machivel nodded.
“That’s exactly it. And the timing is suspicious, too. Ferlo’s assassination serves to draw the lines between magic and non-magic factions on board. The subtlety of the spell itself is a reminder that no one, not even the strongest non-magical organization, is safe from the influence of magic.”
Sylas smiled faintly.
“In other words, a demonstration. A clear message.”
“Precisely, Lord Sylas.”
Machivel’s voice was calm, though there was a glint of excitement in his eyes.
“Someone wanted to make a statement, and they used Ferlo to do it.”
Sylas leaned forward, a spark of amusement in his gaze.
“And who would be bold enough to start this early?”
Machivel’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered.
“It could be any one of the lesser-known magic factions trying to establish a reputation. Or... it could be someone like Distantias.”
"Distantias,” Sylas thought.
“Do you think they’re bold enough to take down a prominent leader like Ferlo without concern for retaliation?”
“From what I know of them, they’re calculated but ruthless. They’ve probably studied every major player here already. I also heard that Distantias people and Ferlo had some problems in Level 2. They fought with their first, a brawl of some sort.”
“Distantias is a crime organization more like a family of some sort, and I also believe that they do have five or ten mages in their ranks; despite those mages at the very most level two or one, it is still a force to be reckoned with when fighting against ordinary organizations.”
Sylas chuckled, leaning back.
“And all this on just the second day of the voyage.”
“It seems things are moving faster than we anticipated.”
Machivel noted, glancing out the window with a slight smirk.
After a pause, Sylas gave a thoughtful nod.
“Well, I suppose we should be grateful. The sooner our opponents reveal their strategies, the sooner we’ll know where everyone stands.”
Machivel gave a slight nod in agreement, then asked,
“Would you like me to assign a few more of our spies to monitor Distantias and any others who might make a move soon?”
“Good idea. But keep them subtle. I don’t want to stir the waters too obviously.”
Sylas's gaze shifted back to the papers, but it was clear his mind was now elsewhere, considering the unfolding situation.
“Understood,” Machivel replied, watching Sylas for a moment. He added,
“It may be worth noting, Lord Sylas, that the guards who overlooked the incident could potentially be bribed. Perhaps some of them already have been.”
Sylas raised an eyebrow, his voice taking on a calculating tone.
“So the infrastructure of this ship may be more porous than we thought. A weakness we can exploit.”
“Indeed.” Machivel’s expression mirrored Sylas’s cunning.
“This ship is a fortress, but even fortresses have cracks. I’ll work on establishing connections with key guards discreetly.”
Sylas grinned, his eyes gleaming.
“Very well. Then we’ll sit back and observe. Distantias or whoever wants to play their games can, but we’ll be ready.”
Machivel bowed his head.
“Consider it done.”
As Machivel left, Sylas leaned back, reflecting on their conversation.
He closed his eyes briefly, whispering to himself,
“Let the games begin.”