Marius knocks on the door, but receives no answer. He hears heavy footsteps approaching, which cause some alarm - until he hears something else, the cocking of a gun. He turns to Prasutagus, and it’s clear he heard it too. Both raise a hand each, then cusp into a fist. Janus sees, and understands. Running over unsheathing the inornate sword that hung from his waist.
From inside the house, a deep male voice shouts at them, “Now I don’t know what plane of hell you gentlemen came from but I swear by the Creator above: You give us back our boy or I’ll put two and a half holes in each of ya' and leave some more for the buzzards!”
“Mister Marshall, none of your children will be harmed. Your son was tested, and found to be --”
Marius’s futile attempts at diplomacy are cut short but the blast of a black powder arquebus through the center of the door, blowing a large hole therein but wildly missing both of the order-brothers outside.
"Now that there was a warning shot! You boys turn right around and bring back my boy or we’ll have trouble!”
Janus has already arrived, holding his sword ready, he leans into Marius, “Lethal?”
“No, stun. We’re far from Theocris, but we can’t afford to draw attention.”
“Understood,” Janus steps back and rubs a gloved hand down the length of the blade, and as he does so a swirl of black and white light forms around the blade in a cylindrical oval that roughly conforms to the shape of the blade. It crackles with energy and hums a deep sound like a motor once it has finished taking the shape of the blade.
The gunman seems to have been awfully patient allowing them this much time. His patience runs thin when he aims another shot through the door for Janus, but the shot disintegrates as it makes contact with the light-sword. Prasutagus kicks down whatever’s left of the door, then steps aside for Janus to waltz in with a confident stride, striking down the fat sunburnt man with a powerful crack of electric energy. Mister Marshall yelps and falls to the ground unconscious and scorched, but still breathing.
The entry room opens up into three directions; first, left of the door, is obviously a bathroom, disregarded immediately; the second direction, to the right, is a kitchen with pots, pans, and silverware scattered about the floor as if wildly flung thereabouts to block their path - the light is on; third, straight across, is a dip in elevation that leads to a dark living room, but no light is shining therein. Marius taps Prasutagus and walks inside, heading for the kitchen. When he passes Janus, he taps his shoulder then points at the ground. Janus grunts boredly, then extends his light-sword to the living room, as if to cast some light into that room.
Kitchenware is no match for even a novice zeromancer, and so the assortment of household items thrown about the grimey tiled floor are defeated effortlessly by the deft black-booted feet of brothers Marius and Prasutagus. Hysterical reactions like this are expectable. There is no positive image of a zeromancer - there is only murderer, philistine, kidnapper, misanthrope. Brutish barbarians who forsake everything civilized - magic, religion, science, and so on - for their ancient cult. Though, more resonant in that woman’s mind right now must be the words murderer and kidnapper. That was a miscalculation on Marius’s part. He should have brought the boy back to her before anything else. She probably saw Will being taken into the car and realized they weren’t from the Syndicate. He glances to the side of the kitchen. Windows, of course she saw. It's regrettable but insignificant.
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The room connected to the kitchen is dark, but it is obvious enough the remnants of the household are here. By the light shining through from the kitchen it can be seen that the room’s lantern was thrown to the ground haphazardly after it was likely extinguished. Marius and Prasutagus enter slowly, peeking around. It’s a large room, lined with beds, trunks, dressers, and so on. It seems to be a communal bedroom - another door to the left seems to connect to the living room, and then another at the back must lead outside.
“We performed the test on your son, he has magical aptitude that the Syndicate wishes to see brought out. I ask you to let us test your daughter, then we’ll be gone.”
It’s silent for a moment, but then the distinct sound of a once-crying child sniffling fills the room. Both brothers locate the corner from which the sound originates, and make their approach. Confirming their estimate, that sniffling turns back into crying- that must be one of the two younger children. Soon enough a second younger voice begins to cry as well. The mother is defiantly silent.
“Where is she, woman? Shall I illuminate this room and find her wrapped up in one of these beds? Your son told us about her ailment. She has distortion sickness. Do you know what that means?”
Silence.
“Your daughter is a psychic. She is a danger to you, and you to her - to be so irresponsible as to let her languish in suffering so close to a ley node as you are. You should be glad we are not the Inquisition.”
More silence. Marius failed to intimidate her, but just as he seems ready to sear the room with an incantation of sunlight, an older child’s sniffing can be heard in the opposite corner of the room. Thence following is the sound of bedsheets shifting and shuffling. A young feminine voice calls out in a self-subdued plead, “Mom? What’s going on?”
Marius cannot see the woman, but he stares into her eyes regardless before he responds to her daughter. He failed and she succeeded, but nevertheless he’s won and she’s lost. The cruel satisfaction of it fills him with vindication that outweighs the shame caused by her defiance. He grins to the woman in the dark, then turns around to approach her daughter. When he finds her bed, he kneels down to feel for her head, muttering something. Then, he places a finger above her brow. Isabel seems frightened silent, given she hasn't even peeped. In a moment of mercy Marius hushes her in as reassuring a tone as he can feign given his still-felt malice for the girl's mother.
“You’ll feel tired for a moment, girl, but don’t be scared. This can’t harm you.”
The lethargy, the glow, and the dream. Just as with the boy. Every person reacts the same, the girl no exception, albeit how they feel those reactions is different. Marius gleans once more that he has found an affluent, then the girl passes out. He picks up her unconscious body and rests her over his shoulder like she were a bag.
“Affluent. We’ve gotten what we’ve come for. Let’s go.”
The mother is still silent. They can both feel her presence, and hear the crying of her younger children. Marius wonders how his own mother reacted when the order came for him. Though he knows it could not have been the same. He is an acolyte, selected from the children of the devout. He is not affluent, and he is not a mute. He was not kidnapped by thieves in the night. He looks at Prasutagus as they maneuver once more through the kitchen. Then he stares at Janus, who is swinging his sword childishly in the air. They are little different from Will or Izzy, both taken from their parents’ arms. It’s a strange consideration, one which feels uncanny. The order is their life - and they will do everything it asks of them. Even this. Especially this.
Janus pinches the light of his sword between his thumb and index finger, and then with an extended crackling the light disappears - and what was a sword of steel is now so again. He sheathes it on their exit. He seems unhappy, but that can’t be blamed. He was eager for battle, not for this. No one can be eager for this. The man, the mother, and their children - they will remember this event for the rest of their lives, most likely. They will be filled with wonder whether or not the umbral mages who kidnapped their children killed them or made them into more godless murderers. There is no joy in this, but through preparation and contemplation, Marius can achieve acceptance of himself. That is all he can do, but it is enough.