“My daughter loved chocolate and blueberry cake. I bought it for her every year on her Name day. And I did the same on her seventh one, too. Her last one.” – Etolan Roan.

The night was nigh and the moon was rising. A pale blue tint covered the skies. Norandun Stormaxe walked through the streets of the Old Market. The only place left in the City of Alcen—the entire planet of Xylen, really—which reminded him of the old gone days.

Norandun was not a Xylian, yet he was tall enough to not stand out much on this planet. Though the fact that his skin had a grey hue to it and wasn’t a deep blue like the locals did make him a bit conspicuous in bright enough light.

He walked along the cobblestone pavement around the circular Old Market, watching the vendors getting ready to wind up. They all looked worn out with slumped shoulders and sweaty clothes. The market was always packed with people.

“Sir!” A sweet yet firm voice came from a shop ahead of him. “Sir! Will you be buying fruits today?”

It was Neri. She looked like a beam of sunlight in the dark. Due to her mixed ancestry, she had lighter skin than other Xylians, and she hadn’t grown very tall yet. Height wouldn’t kick in for a few years for her. Where everyone else was packing up, counting their earnings for the day, this young girl was shouting on top of her lungs to attract more people. Norandun always liked the naive, unadulterated enthusiasm of the young.

“Of course, little one! On my way, I am!” Norandun shouted back, raising both hands above his head. He was more than three centuries old now, but he still had his own blend of naive unadulterated enthusiasm. Some even said more than the young.

Norandun reached Neri’s shop, grinning. “How was the day, Kid?”

“The usual. People still don’t believe I sell the best fruits in all the galaxy. They prefer the more obnoxious type. Like him,” Neri said, gesturing toward an old man stacking up boxes a couple of shops over.

“Want me to kick his ass?” Norandun said, making his eyes bigger and stroking his long white beard in a menacing way. His bald head marked with black, branch-like veins, reaching down the side of his face, made him look all the more menacing.

Neri smiled. “I might take you up on that offer one day, Sir. Your scary-face is getting better. Here are your fruits for the week.” She packed a bag full of blueberries, Uronean apples and southern grapes—his favourite—and handed it to Norandun but he held up his hand.

“I’m afraid I can’t carry them with me, kid. I am going somewhere else. Can you drop them off at my home tomorrow morning?” Nor asked.

“Sure thing.”

Norandun examined and smelled the fruits laid on the stall. “You, kid, do sell the best fruits in all the galaxy.” He leaned in and whispered, “And I would know, for I have seen it all.” The fruits, in truth, weren’t the best. Far from it. But Norandun liked the kid. So he never bought fruits from anyone else.

“Of course, old man,” Neri scoffed as she took the payment. She raised her wrist, where she wore her Zemek, a square metallic wristwatch. Norandun raised his own to meet hers. Moving both of them close to each other transferred the payment. The look and feel of the market may be old and separate from the rest of the city, but some technology had crept in.

“You don’t believe me.”

“Of course I don’t. No one has seen all the galaxy.”

“I have.” Norandun grinned.

“Sure.” Neri couldn’t help but do the same.

“See you next week, Kid,” Norandun said as he left. Walking further down the street, Nor greeted several other shopkeepers, the fruit sellers, the bakers, the cobblers. Right before the giant exit leading out of the market, Nor turned right into a narrow alley. The bright lights of the market barely penetrated this dingy place, filled by muffled noises of the market and the scuttling of rats in garbage.

Making sure he was alone in the alley, Norandun summoned Altin, a faint golden glow coursed through his veins as he jumped and flew into the air, the gust of wind rattling the garbage bins. Summoning Mavi, he conjured thick spectacles out of thin air around his eyes to protect them from the rushing wind as he soared. The vehicles flew high enough to not be an issue to Mages who preferred to fly for themselves-- the few that were left on Xylen, anyway.

The night was at its zenith by the time Norandun reached the Northern district, stopping to hover over the City Korums’ headquarters and waited for Terren, his hands clasped behind his back. The wind had picked up its speed, whipping Nor’s Mage robes left to right.

A few minutes later, a tiny green ball of light flew up from the headquarters building below and came to a halt in front of Norandun. It blinked twice and then burst like a tiny firework, spraying minute green sparks all over Nor’s beard. It was a message, and he knew exactly who sent it, and what it meant. Stupid boy, he thought, looking down at the roof of the majestic building and shaking his beard clean.

The headquarters housed not only the protectors of Alcen but of the entire continent of Aeodro. It was arguably the most secure building in the city. After The Premier House, of course, and The Evren Council. Norandun descended toward its rooftop, his long white moustache and beard flowing in the air. As he got closer, his eyeglasses shimmered blue and slowly vanished into the air.

“Good evening, sir,” Terren said as Norandun landed beside him. The tall, muscular Xylian was a City Korum, well on his way to becoming a Sector Korum.

He had a full head of wavy, unruly brown hair and a clean-shaven, slightly rounded face that made him look younger than he was. Although in Norandun’s eyes, almost every Xylian was young. The lifespan of Xylians was quite long, only matched by the Nethians, but they all paled in comparison to a Myrian such as Norandun.

“How was work?” Norandun asked, assuming he had just finished his shift.

“Great!” Terren smiled.

“So did you ask out that girl?”

“Okay… not so great.” Terren rubbed a hand through his hair, wincing.

“You need courage, young man.” Norandun shook his head.

“What I need is a better personality.”

“No, you don't. You just want me to say nice things about you.”

“Well, if you know that, then why don’t you do it?”

“Because… I don’t lie.” Norandun grinned.

Terren gave him a flat stare.

“Where was the attack?” Norandun asked.

“North-West border. Diplomatic residence. Where were you?”

“Home, sleeping.”

“We may be going through a national crisis, and you were sleeping?”

“What can I say? Mages are lazy.”

“I’m a Mage.”

“Yes. Case and point, then. Let’s go.” Norandun moved towards the stairs but Terren stopped him.

“Why can’t we just fly there?” Terren asked. “It would be faster.”

“You need to learn restraint.”

“Why? What’s the point of magic if you can’t use it?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Norandun said nothing for a few seconds. “You’ll learn one day.”

“If that’s not today, then can we please fly?” Terren asked with a grin.

Norandun sighed. In a split second, his glasses were back. The ring on Terren’s index finger began to glow azure, and a ball of pale blue light coalesced in his hand. It slowly began to take the shape of eyeglasses. When done, the glasses glowed brighter, and with a flash, were now made of plastic and glass, tiny blue and red sparks flying off it.

“You need to work on that,” Norandun said as he effortlessly lifted off the roof. Terren followed, slowly. He was a master conjurer and a gifted Mage—better than everyone else in the City Korum—but in front of Norandun he looked like a kid learning the alphabet for the first time.

“Comparing me to yourself is really unfair.”

“Stop complaining, loser.” Norandun smirked. “Let’s race.”

“So you want me to exercise restraint, but you also wish to race?”

“Well, yes, and yes. But if you aren’t going to do the former, we might as well do the latter.” With a burst of speed, Norandun took off, leaving Terren stumbling for balance mid air. He was a better flyer than a conjurer, so such races were always fun. He’d never beaten Norandun, but still, they were fun.

The Korum headquarters was in the northern district, like every other government building. It took Norandun and Terren merely twenty minutes to cover what would have been an hour-long journey on an uncaya. Thin tendrils of smoke still hovered above the large patch of ground, covered in rubble. Only that morning it had been a beautiful and grand residence complex for the dignitaries and diplomats of foreign planets. And now it was burned to the ground, along with the diplomats.

Norandun came to a halt in an instant above the decimated piece of land, the scent of burned flesh still lingering in the air. The western district was the richest district in the city, housing all the wealthy and powerful of Xylen. An attack of such a massive scale couldn’t be hidden, like the previous attacks were.

Terren came into view a minute later. “How do you just slow down instantly?” he asked, breathing heavily and dazed from the speed.

Norandun hadn’t even broken a sweat. “Three centuries of flying will teach you a few tricks.”

“How much for you to teach me?”

“You know I don’t teach.” Not anymore.

“My ring is running low on Axonus, that’s why I lost,” Terren said.

“Sure,” Norandun said with a touch of sarcasm. “Now, walk me through the scene, please.” They descended onto the street at the edge of the massacre.

The roughly square residence complex was now a pool of charred buildings with collapsed roofs, burned gardens full of soot covered debris, and several white markings on the ground done by the City Korums, indicating where people had died. Ashes and motes of dust were carried by the light wind, making it a tad difficult to see and burning Nor’s eyes a little. A tiny summon of Kallor dulled the pain a little. He still felt disgusted by the scene. No magic could cure that.

“how will the Korums cover this one up?” Nor asked.

“They can’t.” Terren's voice betrayed his frustration. “Too big an attack. It is classified as a simple act of aggression by an unknown party. Which, in a broad sense, is what it is.”

“Have we found out anything about the assassins yet?”

“No, not yet. We aren’t even sure whether it was the work of the Assassins Order,” Terren said.

Norandun walked through the ashen street of the complex, looking at the missing doors, broken windows, seared curtains. The furniture was unrecognizable; it looked as if it would collapse by the faintest of wind. Bits of burned off skin and body parts still filled the corners of the floor.

“Be careful,” Terren said as Norandun walked closer to the scene. “We don’t actually have permission to be here.”

This was the sixth incident in the last two months, but by far the biggest. This had to be the work of the Assassins Order. The entire incident was said to have happened within minutes. Fire appearing out of thin air, silhouettes of men flying around, killing the frantic people who lived here. The last time Nor had seen such signs was back during the Ascension War, the last time the Assassins Order was freely used. It had died with the War, or so it was believed.

“Have the families...” Norandun asked, wincing. The smell of burnt flesh got stronger as he walked further in, but he didn’t stop. The floor seemed to slightly crumble away with every step. The fire was scorching, burning hotter than it should have, Nor reckoned. Magic was definitely used.

“Yes. They’ve been contacted. The planets have been notified and assured of their continued ties with us and our dedication to protecting diplomats on Xylen.”

“I bet they didn’t take that well.”

“No. They don’t believe us anymore. They have pieced together that it was a targeted attack and are saying Xylen was involved, or lazy enough to ignore it,” Terren said. Terren wasn’t naive; Nor knew he understood that there must be some Xylians involved in all this, but the old Mage could also tell how frustrated the young City Korum was. Terren didn’t like Xylen being seen in such a negative light. “Almost all the minor planets are questioning their place in the Council now, Norandun. There are revolts. This could get out of hand very quickly.”

“This already is out of our hands. Diplomats of Minor planets are being targeted. On the other hand, several Major planets within The Evren Council are demanding to ban Minor planets from becoming members altogether! And Xylen isn’t vocal enough to voice its dissent in the matter. If the other planets succeed in exiling the Minor planets from the Council, war will be inevitable.”

Norandun walked out of a fallen building and into the garden. Charred pieces of broken walls covered the ground here. “This was the work of The Assassins Order, Terren. I am sure,” Norandun sighed.

“Iseda bless the damned,” Terren cursed. “The Korums need to issue a public notice. And how can you be sure about the Order?”

“Based on the evidence I have been able to collect. The attack patterns and the deaths are too organized, too well planned. I conclude that it is being orchestrated by a single entity, and not just a bunch of lowly rogue Mystics and Mages.” Norandun had a lot of other evidence to support his claims. Similar or even worse attacks were reported on other planets too, but they were small enough to be hidden or quickly dismissed. But, he could not divulge them or his sources to Terren. Not yet. “Trust me on this. It is the Order. Reborn. Do you really believe The Korums would issue a public notice? They’re not known to be proactive.”

Terren’s face betrayed a bit of anger, but he composed himself again. He was good at that. “They are… unwilling, just yet.”

“Lazy giants.”

“That’s a stupid stereotype.”

“True, in this case. How many diplomats from the Minor planets would have to die on Xylen before you people wake up. And what if tomorrow diplomats from a Major planet are targeted? How will The City Korums keep that quiet?”

“It's not like it's in my hands! And even if it was,” Terren lowered his voice, even though no one was around, “if it really is the Assassins Order, then it would be damn near impossible to stop them. Xylen isn’t so strong yet.”

“You’ve had almost two decades to adjust since Avadon fell. When will The Ten wake up?” Norandun started moving out, annoyed with the whole situation. Ever since Xylen ascended to being the leader of The Evren Council, chaos among the planets had been on a rise. With the Major planets now starting to form a faction to boycott the Minor planets, the situation was getting very unstable real quick.

“You need to talk to Elas,” Terren said. Elas was the Premier, the head of the ruling group of Xylen, The Ten.

“It's his father one needs to convince, and talking to him is truly an ordeal. That boy is nothing but a puppet,” Norandun said. Though he might be judging the young man too harshly. He seemed like a child to Noradun, but most Xylians did.

“At least try. Again.”

“Of course I will. I just don’t see it leading anywhere.”

Terren had already conjured his goggles. Norandun did the same, and they both took off.

They floated above the mass of rubble and ash, looking down at it in silence for a moment. “How can you be sure?” Terren asked, breaking the quiet.

“About The Assassins?”

Terren nodded.

“Just trust me on this one. The planet's security is compromised, Terren. You need to look into it.”

“I am a City Korum. The security of the planet—the galaxy—is not my jurisdiction.”

“People will die. People have died. Explain to their families about jurisdiction.”

Terren looked down again and didn’t say anything, but Norandun could tell the stress he was under.

“Dinner,” Norandun said abruptly.

Terren cocked his head, as if waking up from a deep thought. “What? Now?”

“No, soon. Kassian is coming back, if his father lets him see me this time, that is. We should go out for dinner. Get your mind off things.”

“My mind shouldn’t be off of these things.”

“True. But it should be during dinner time. He’ll be here by the end of the week, maybe. I’m not sure when his classes are truly over. We’ll go then.”

Terren smiled. “How old is your nephew now, anyway?”

“Twenty-three.”

“In Myrian terms, that sounds like an infant.”

Norandun smiled. “He can still kick your ass in magic.”

“We’ll see,” Terren said, smiling a little to himself.

It was well into the night, the blue tint of the sky long faded into utter darkness. Norandun bid farewell to Terren and flew further west, to his home.