Novels2Search
superNATURAL INveSTIGATOR
CHAPTER 7 - The Magistrate

CHAPTER 7 - The Magistrate

> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, Viewing Deck.

> 3rd of New Conception, 1316;

> 5:10 Sol Time.

The train barrels through the wastes, its speed still at unusual levels, but not as fast as it was during the flash. Aethel enjoys a drink on the viewing deck, holding tightly onto the railing, and keeping his cup close to his chest. It may be rather dank, as coming from the heavy rain, but he stays anyway.

No one else seems to wish to be outside at the moment so Aethel is alone,

Crags and dead land pass by in a blurry flash, the wind howls beside, but, at least the sunrise paints the sky pretty and the train is surprisingly stable. As Aethel sips the drink he takes great care, his movements slow and steady, contrasting the violent disturbance which the wind lays to his hair and clothes.

Taking in the fresh albeit forceful air with such a clear expression, and lingering on every burst of flavor in a sip, Aethel allows his eyes to wander across the horizon; some kind of faraway stare. The door opens behind him and Ari takes cautious steps out.

Ari’s jests, though his tone sounds a bit on the concern, “Taking risks so early in the morning~ I am sure you know, but if you slip, spilling the drink is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, I know… but, I needed the fresh air.” Aethel shakes his head, replying.

Smiling easily, Ari sidles up next to Aethel, “I will not fault you for that, I mean, you have had a crazy start to a trip.”

“Heh, I couldn’t even make any of this up if I tried. I mean— if I told anyone back home, no one would believe me!” chuckling, Aethel muses, then takes another sip of his drink.

Gesturing to Aethel’s cup, Ari asks, “So, darling, coffee, tisane, or tea— also, iced or hot? Personally, my fondness is for hot tea.”

“Right now? Iced coffee, though, at home I like it hot— Oh, but my father likes teas and tisanes too, he has boring taste though. What kind of tea do you like?” Aethel shakes his cup slightly while responding.

Ari smirks as he brings up a finger, explaining, “No drink is inherently boring, love, it all comes down to the quality of the products. But, to answer your question: have you ever heard of white tea?”

“No… but it sounds really upscale— kind of fitting for you, thinking about more. What is it?” slowly turning to completely face Ari, Aethel admits.

A careful smile graces Ari’s face as he reflects, “It is an exquisite tea, absolutely divine, not the kind that’s vegetal or fruity, white tea is much more soft, delicate. The first time I came upon it was over a decade ago when I was but a student, my lover at the time treated me to some… I was captivated immediately… for various reasons.”

Aethel's only response is to nod and take a large sip of his drink. Ari takes this as a cue to continue.

“Ever since, I regularly have it imported from the east— over there is a certain brand of it that I am affectionate for; it reminds me of those days… even if the situation over there is… difficult now. Perks of having contacts there, I suppose. How about you, Aethel, any specific loves in the world of coffees?” finishing his explanation, Ari asks.

Another nod from Aethel as he replies, “I guess I have a favorite brand of coffee…? Nothing as sentimental as a drink shared with someone special. But the east, huh? I wasn’t sure anyone here was privy to what’s going on over there. What’s the scoop? If… you don’t mind, that is.”

“No I do not, but, the most I am allowed to tell an outsider is… perhaps disappointing.” Ari closes his eyes, smirking.

Aethel shrugs gently, “That’s fair, I’m not exactly a member of your covert Magistrate— but as long as were comfortable, answer me as best and as far as you are able to: who are YOU guys exactly, why were you on this train, and what’s going on at Kane?”

“Striking at the heart of the issue, I see~ You are not one to mince words are you, darling? Cold blooded, and I say that as a compliment.” after saying that, Ari sighs as he puts a hand on his head, continuing, “...Well we did promise that much at least, but, better we tell you as a group. Come with me.”

> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, First Class Cabin 7-1.

> 3rd of New Conception, 1316;

> 6:02 Sol Time.

The team and Aethel gather in the cabin to pick up where they left off before the disturbance. Aethel sits across from Karter and Fi while Ari and Nerva flank him.

Nerva scratches the back of her head, smiling as she says, “Sorry for the intimidating set up, this is just a precaution— not that we don’t trust you, it’s just kind of how we do things.”

“Oui, do not be intimidated, Aezel, we are simply doing zings as we would wiz anyone. ” assures Fi, smiling.

Clearing his throat to get everyone’s attention, Karter begins, “Now we will begin our little briefing, Ari recording start.” he looks to Ari who nods before activating a tape recorder, Karter nods back then continues, “Aethel Gren, you now have a choice: sit here and be bound to the consequences, or, leave now and divert your path to Kane City— choose.”

“I choose to sit here and bind myself to whatever might come. Hell or high water— well, ‘high water’ has happened, so there should be no doubt, heh.” Aethel nods directly at Karter, almost puffing out his chest as he smirks.

Aethel’s words elicit a smirk from everyone save for Karter who only leans forward and glares with some kind of intent. Then, Karter shakes his head before returning into a neutral position, he looks to his companions who straighten up at his visible chagrin.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

Karter continues, “So you say, then as of this moment you have become an honorary member of the Vex Arcanis Magistrate’s third Concordant Inquisition, the Vellaveir dispatch. There are other groups but we cannot tell you of them as you are not a Magus actual. Fi, take his oath,”

“Aezel Gren, ‘onorary member of ze Vellaveir dispatch, zough you are not a Magus actual you must take ze oath we all ‘ave and swear allegiance to ze Magistrate even for zis fleeting time. Are you ready?” Fi declares before standing up and walking behind Aethel.

Aethel nods, “I know no other way to be.”

As soon as the words leave Aethel’s mouth the cabin goes dark, fills from floor to ceiling with an opaque energy, and within the field of effect an imminent crackle of energy. It changes from any color that perception allows. Swirling from one side of the room to the other, it begins to circle Aethel with an almost human curiosity. Fi begins the oath.

“Zen Aezel Gren, upon ze name of ze Ornatissima Magister Magorum, Altereus ze first of true insight, do you swear to do everyzing in your power to serve and fight for ze sake of all zat is living?”

“Yes.”

The energy glows yellow, a sigil appears within the room, right in front of Aethel. A crown. Some kind of weight begins to swell within Aethel’s heart.

“Do you recognize zat to learn is one of ze greatest abilities known to ze living?”

“Yes.”

On the left side of the crown a jade eye appears. It watches Aethel in a genuinely harsh manner, furthering the weight upon his heart.

“Do you swear to judge and punish anyone who would zreaten ze peaceful world?”

“Yes.”

Now on the right side of the crown a hand of wisteria takes form. It begins to writhe with a severe want, only making it harder to bear the weight in his heart.

“Do you understand zat utter control and freedom is not wi’zin ze public’s luxury?”

“Yes.”

On the furthest left an azure shield reinforces. It vanguards the energy with fierce determination, its stalwart defense weighs down on his heart.

“Do you conform to waging ze eternal war against ze forces of all supernature?”

“Yes.”

Finally, on the furthest right a blade of blood sharpens viciously. It threatens Aethel with its very presence, furthering the weight that suffocates his heart.

“There in front of you, dear Aethel, are the sigils which govern the Magistrate, us. The crown of our rulers, the council, Legendis; the eye of our learners, the academy, Arcaneum; the hand of our judges, the court, Covenary; the shield of our inspectors, the bureau, Officiad; and the sword of our legions, the army, Nihilica.” Ari interjects, voice impassive.

Nodding along, Nerva adds, “Though you’ll only be one of us for a short time— for as long as we need to escort you to Prima— you’ll need to respect our way of doing things.”

“There is also a code but we do not have it at the moment, not that you have any need of it, seeing as you are only in a temporary arrangement. Just know that violation of your oath and in the unlikely circumstance of the code, the weight upon your heart will tear it apart… You will not die though.” Karter interjects, now leaning backwards.

Aethel lays a hand on his chest, feeling that his heart beats with a strange rhythm, as if a distinct and lethal force pulls it with the austerity of a teacher a century in disappointment. Almost like a critic who will judge everything he has done, will do, and is doing with all the vitriolic words possible in the language, or even invent new ones to fit.

Laying a hand on Aethel’s shoulder, Fi assures, “Do not worry Aezel, I am— we are all sure zis violations will not come to pass, you ‘ave proven a worthy Magus actual in all but official recognition. Zis is correct, no, Karter?”

“I am… certain enough that if he would go through the necessary channels, he would make a tolerable Magus actual.” Karter shrugs and shakes his head as he replies, that audible reluctance once again in his voice.

With that, the rest of the party smiles, and the dark aura in the room dissipates along with the sigils, Aethel seems to relax as this comes to pass.

Somehow a sigh so resoundant leaves Aethel’s mouth, “...I never knew this would be that intense. Fuck, you’re telling me you all went through that but worse?”

“Something like that, darling~” Ari shrugs, his voice far too flippant.

Karter does a lazy gesture before standing up and lying down on one of the beds, “Just be glad you are over it and relax for the next few days— looking at the speed we move at, it will not be long before we reach the Border Station. Hey seriously, relax, even I can recognize when a clown has earned that.”

> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, Standard Class Cabin 18-5.

> 3rd of New Conception, 1316;

> 9:30 Aurum Time.

An abyss that consumes everything, even the stars that in any other season shine clarion in the sky; this is what Aethel sees outside his window. The darksun, foreboding and eerie, an all consuming dark. An all consuming abyss. He turns away from the window now, turning back to his desk, the journal sitting in front of him.

He sets his pen down on the paper.

> New Conception 3, 1316

>

> I wanted adventure. I just wonder why now of all times, I get what I want. Father Falkhein, I do wish you were here to offer me some guidance. I recall your stories of the Magistrate, the uniformed men in black who carry themselves with eldritch purpose, they who you had once cooperated with in your youth. I recall your words clearly:

>

>  

>

> The Magistrate deals in a world we can scarcely understand, I had aided them in their missions but they work so clandestinely that I never felt like I knew what I was aiding them in. They are not bad people, there are rarely any completely bad people in this day and age, but they are guile and they will do everything in their power to get their way. Should you cross their path, Brother Aethel, trust them as you would your neighbor but never let them play you.

>

>  

>

> I do understand this sentiment, but seeing it with my own eyes, I hardly believe they are a monolith. Nothing is, of course, you would call me foolish for assuming in the first place, but hearsay treats you differently to experience. I would like to believe that they are noble actors and I am sure you do too…

>

>  

>

> I do not treat your words lightly.

>

>  

>

> In any case, if this is the adventure I had so wished for… and I said to them, “Come hell or high water.” I shall live by these words. I will prove, whether to myself, to Arcis, or whoever, that I am worthy of such a challenge. Moreover, and this is another foolish thought, I feel as though my calling is not simply to arrive in Prima and be done— no, this is only the beginning.

>

>  

>

> It can only be the beginning.