Chapter 87 : Teacups (Patreon)

Up on top of a building in the slums of Zalcien stood an open office, home to one of the many members of the cabal of criminal mages known as Wicked Witchcraft, though who distinguished himself from the rest via a great knowledge of runes and a close relationship with the strongest and most well-known member of the group, for this was Runar Arthen's office.

The elvish man was sitting at his desk, enjoying the comfort of a leather seat as he reviewed the progress of his rune business and planned for the future. Ever since the rest of the leadership of Wicked Witchcraft had banished him in all but name, he had been hard at work creating his own organization to continue his illegal trade and possibly officially recruit one of his oldest friends to finally put an end to the petty band of second-class spell casters who saw themselves as the future of magic in this miserable city. Runar might not have been a fighter capable of vast destruction like his friend, but he knew none came close to equalling him in runic matters this side of the country, and few could rival or even surpass him this side of the continent. No matter who their masters were or which fancy artifacts or lost knowledge they had found, this ridiculous group of imbeciles was nothing compared to him. The only reason he had been willing to stay in a city that wasn't even worth featuring on the national news was his friend, and as his mental health quickly declined Runar had little doubt Abrakaboom wouldn't last more than a few years at this point, even if the body survived.

He sighed, thinking back to his early days learning magic in one of the most prestigious institutes of the country, of how he had met this weird human boy who always had stars in his eyes and explosions on his mind, though behind all of the friendly and occasionally destructive optimism he had realized after some time lurked a frightening intelligence and cunning. Abraken Dakerska may have preferred the life of a carefree idiot, but he was just as witty and capable as any competent noble from one of the old houses, if not more.

Runar chuckled as he recalled the time his friend and roommate sneakily spent months exploding random items and places to test out the various magical resistances and protection spells spread all around to prepare a massive chain reaction of spells that created a magical firework that lit up the institute in the middle of the night and even winded up impressing even the old archmage in charge of security, doubly so once he had realized the sheer degree of control and planning it took to ensure no student was harmed. Sadly for Abraken, the little prank hadn't been appreciated and he had been kicked out of the institute. Despite his friend's loyalty Runar too had to face some troubles once the Runemaster teaching there had noticed his helpful little additions to Abraken's plot. Unlike his friend Runar wasn't kicked out, simply invited to resign. Luckily for both of the young students, the old archmage in charge of security had a few friends looking for disciples and refused to waste obvious potential, no matter how mischievous. That the two friends in question were teachers at a non-declared school hadn't been mentioned until the duo got there but in all honesty, having access to otherwise hidden and forbidden knowledge was worth the stigma and lack of an official diploma.

The small smile that had begun to form on Runar's lips faded away as his mind returned to the present and his friend's current state. Although there were spells, techniques, and medicine to heal and preserve the mind, past a certain point not much could be done. Mortal minds simply weren't meant to last longer than the maximum lifespan an individual could reach. Contrary to popular belief, the reason why undeath was a gray area of the law wasn't only out of fearmongering and the usual mindless discrimination of everything other, but mostly out of the concern that statistically most undead winded up going crazy after a while, and these bouts of insanity usually ended up in deadly rampages.

No, he couldn't in good conscience ask for Abrak to become some kind of protector of his rune trade. His friend deserved to live the dawn of his life in peace -or, knowing him, surrounded by explosions. If Runar wished to get rid of the pressure of the Union and the rest of Wicked Witchcraft, he had to find another way, ideally something more discreet than big flashy explosions. Something like, oh, an intelligent shadow or darkness elemental. With some proper training and the right runes engraved on its core, it would become quite the efficient killer. Runar had never been one for flashy theatrics, he always preferred the efficiency and discretion of proper runes, and this new asset would fit wonderfully in this mindset.

It was as these thoughts went through his mind and as he denied one of his managers' request for a raise that he heard the telltale sound of shifting metal plates and heavy steps running up the stairs. Strange, it wasn't quite time for tea yet.

Soon enough the door to his office opened and the large knight walked onto the roof, the metal of his suit of armor shining somewhat in the sunlight.

"Karadok, I wasn't expecting you yet, especially empty-handed. Is there a problem?"

"Sir, one of the mages that went with Pierce Evil's hunting party is calling. She wishes to speak with you."

"Pierce Evil's what?"

"One of our men on the Black Block noticed Silhouette - the entity Grover was sent after - and went to a local hideout and asked for support, Pierce Evil was already present and used the orb to report he was taking all combat personnel present and going after Silhouette."

"And why wasn't I informed of this, Karadok?"

"You were busy attending to the rest of your business, sir. You have also told me countless times that you were 'a very busy man that cannot afford to be interrupted whenever someone has lost a pen', to put it in your own words. Since the sighting was made by a singular low-ranking man, I wasn't sure of its veracity and preferred not to bother you."

Runar closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before slowly exhaling.

"In the future, do inform me whenever one of my Runarian Knights acts, or whenever an important location is involved."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're saying only that mage is calling? Not Pierce Evil?"

"Only the one mage, sir."

"Bring the crystal ball here. And some tea as well, I have a feeling I will need something to calm my nerves."

"Yes, sir."

Soon after Runar got to enjoy a delightful cup of tea, though sadly he missed the delectable taste and comforting warmth of the beverage since he was far too busy listening to the horrifying tale of how one of his best elements managed to fail his mission, lose most of the forces he brought, break one of the taboos of the Black Block, and antagonize one of the most powerful factions in the underworld of Terra Stellis, all in one single outing. Karadok had never seen his boss grimace that way, and he prayed to every single god he knew he would never be the one to cause such a face.

It was as the mage finally finished her personal rant on the matter - one that Karadok was quite sure Runar would have interrupted in any other situation, but his employer was currently more preoccupied with staying sane than letting a minion run their mouth - that the main actor of this retelling called using the crystal ball of another hideout. The blond man that appeared as a magical copy in the magical glass kept a neutral face until the crystal ball on his side revealed the twisted visage of his lord, harboring an expression the likes of which he had never seen before on the elvish man.

"My lord, I wish to report on... Are you alright?"

"It depends Pierce Evil. Did you or did you not launch an assault on a shop on the Black Block?"

"I did, my lord, I and the men I gathered went to that shop to capture the creature you are interested in, that Silhouette."

"I see. How many men did you take with you?"

"Thirty thugs, two squires, and five mages, my lord."

"And how many did you bring back?"

"Five thugs, two squires, and one mage, my lord. Many proved too cowardly to stay in the face of danger, and the rest was sadly caught off-guard by the creature and its men. They have access to some strange technology, a combination of shadow and electricity magic combined into one technological tool. Without it, victory would have been assured, and with fewer casualties."

"By your wording, I assume you failed?"

"We nearly succeeded, my lord. I was keeping the creature occupied and had the men accompanying me been quicker and more effective they could have helped me knock out Silhouette after taking care of the mere four men protecting it. Had we not been interrupted by that Black, we would have secured our target and I would have brought it to your office myself before the day's end."

"What, exactly, happened with Blake Black? The Blacks are not known for helping others in their time of need, so I am quite curious as to what you did to prompt him to leave his luxurious office and wander out into the slums among the common folk."

"He claimed our operation disturbed the area and his potential profits, but I believe he wishes to recruit Silhouette himself. After that, he stole my armor and threatened fines for you, my lord."

"Stole your armor, you say. The very expensive armor I engraved myself over a month of hard work. Could you tell me how exactly he pulled such a feat?"

"He... I don't know what it was, my lord, but it was magic. He removed the runes somehow and turned the armor into a cube, he left me the brass cube and kept everything else and threatened to take my rapier too if I stayed any longer."

"You didn't happen to harm him or damage any item in his possession, did you?"

"He claimed I ruined his haircut, my lord."

"That explains it. In the future, never again antagonize a Black. They know things even those vultures at Wicked Witchcraft would be too scared to approach. You're lucky this one is young and unimportant, otherwise, I might have very well forgotten all about you, and this isn't an allegory."

"I'm sorry my lord but-"

"I think you fail to understand the scope of your monumental failure, Pierre."

"My lord?"

"Failing to catch Silhouette is regrettable, for sure, but is a loss I can live with. Live and learn, as they say. I received an earlier report of your fight and what we learned about the creature's abilities will help us shape future assaults."

Runar picked up the teacup he had emptied earlier during the mage's call, which she technically had yet to end as her crystal ball was still active on the side of his desk, though she preferred to stay silent and avoid both of the men's potential wrath. Runar made a show of studying the cup before calling out to another silent observer of the scene, his trusted aide, Karadok.

"Karadok, does this cup have any particular value?"

"Uh... No, I don't think so, sir. It is merely a teacup one of our mages applied multiple runes to - to increase its durability, control its temperature, detect and disable poisonous substances, and ensure it wouldn't spill its content even if thrown into the air - as a test to see if they could graduate past mass-produced goods and instead go on to bigger and more personal projects."

"In other words, this is a mere teacup, upgraded by the power of runes to be something beyond it could have ever hoped to be, a teacup fit for a lord, for a king."

"Yes...?"

The cup shattered in Runar's grasp, porcelain pieces flying in all directions, some harmlessly bouncing off his yellow three-piece suit and blue tie.

"Pierre, you are nothing without my runes. Losing your armor made you useless for a month, at the very least. Not only that, but you angered the Black Bank, and if they are petty enough they will analyze the materials required to make your armor and we will suddenly find ourselves unable to buy them, if not because of increased prices then because of the fines that surely come our way. Considering your blatant mismanagement of your team and your conduct, it might as well be more efficient for me to replace you. Give me one good reason not to shatter this cup."

"You say I am worthless without your runes, yet even you admitted I was the best fighter among the knights. You may not need me, but training a newcomer to my level will take more than a month. Meanwhile I, as soon as I received a new suit of armor, will be fit to act and ready to bring you back Silhouette."

Runar narrowed his eyes.

"You are not the best fighter, only the best duelist, Pierre."

The mage and Karadok both took in a deep breath.

"But, I will grant your point. Replacing you would be more of a headache than simply disciplining you. Very well. You will come join us here, and you will assist Karadok with his daily duties until your new armor is ready."

"Thank you, my lord."

"And Pierre? I will not be so forgiving a second time."

With a flick of Runar's wrist, the face in the crystal ball disappeared, and a she got ready to order something he was interrupted by the mage who had initially called him.

"That's it?! The guy wasted at least a dozen lives of loyal subordinates and you're letting him go like that?!"

"I manage my organization however I wish to, young lady. I do not care for your feelings."

"..."

"Pierce Evil will be back on the field as soon as his armor is ready, whether you like it or not. Are we clear?"

"...Yes, sir."

This time Runar didn't have to do anything, for the mage closed the call on her end. The elvish man didn't even react at the action, and instead pressed a piece of the teacup he had kept on a spot on his desk, suddenly revealing a glowing green rune that attracted all of the pieces of the cup spread around and fixed it, leaving behind perfectly flawless porcelain.

"If I may sir, I do believe she's going to leave."

"She's free to quit. If she knows what's good for her, she won't try anything stupid. But, Karadok, do take the time to look for potential replacements for Pierce Evil within our ranks. Ideally someone familiar with taking down single targets, but I won't be picky."

"Didn't you just say that replacing him wouldn't be worth it?"

"Oh, it isn't, but since that imbecile was stupid enough to anger a Black, one familiar with the Fair Folk's magic, I do not think he will last. Hopefully, he will prove competent enough to at least achieve a few objectives before they get tired of letting him exist."

"I... Very well, sir. Should I cancel our following plans to capture Silhouette? If Blake Black truly has taken an interest in the creature, it might be for the best to give up."

"Wait for the Black Bank's letter delivering our fines. They may have taken an interest, but if we're in luck not enough to break their neutrality. As long as they do not officially refer to Silhouette as one of their assets, employees, or protégés, then we're free to act."

As Runar pondered the situation, he idly noted that Abrak's wish for a more interesting creature might be granted. For a Black to take interest in such a thing... What did they know that Runar didn't?