37 – The white city

Beyond the great gate of the white city was another world. The bright blue skies and the sweet scent of flowers bore no resemblance to the gloomy world outside. Encased between two tall mountains crowned in white snow, the city was like the most beautiful of gems. Its wide roads, tidy and clean, were full of trees ripe with fruit. People rested in the shade on exquisite benches under the trees, their leaves moved by a soft breeze that smelled of the sea. High above, a few lonely clouds passed by in their hurried travels, to hide behind the rocky cliffs of the mountains. Palaces and hanging gardens clung to the face of the mountain in the east, while a gargantuan monument of power in gold and white occupied the western slope. There, in the highest castle up on the mountain, was where the king and his court resided, as Methias told Julian while they marched on triumphantly through the city streets. Sometimes people saluted them, women would wave hello while they did their chores in the tall houses of marble and white stone. Their return was, indeed, a triumph of the power of Good over Evil. A testament of the superiority of the kingdom of good, a successful expedition in the barren lands between and into the enemy territories.

Methias’ palace was one of the highest in the easter mountain, overlooking the whole city below. From its windows, upon waking up, Methias could see the white marble palace of the King on the twin mountain and the sun rising behind it, like a crown of light. To reach it they had to go up a winding road, and at each turn as the road narrowed they lost some of their convoy, off to go to the barracks or the granary or some other place secluded from view by the tall white walls adorned with flowers. Eventually, at the top of the road, stood lonesome the great mansion in the middle of a huge garden of hedges and apple trees. There were always apples on these trees, Methias said, thanks to magic and the care of a hundred gardeners. At the middle of the hedge was a gazebo where nobles and guests from far away had tea and could relax, taking in the sight of the beautiful capital of the kingdom of Good, away from the busy roads of the city or the politics of the palace hall.

Julian studied the architecture and the city with a careful eye, but did not linger. His thoughts were a pendulum between mild interest about this and that, about how they could control the climate and build such great castles, and Cal. He didn’t like wasting so much time on useless parades through the city, but for Methias this was clearly a great day of triumph that he spared no expenses to celebrate. However, Cal was probably alone and, if the nightmare Julian had was true, suffering. He didn’t know how much time he had left to save his friend, held in captivity. Flashes of the dream kept surfacing his thoughts during the long dinner, and he could see the layout of a stone fortress on a rocky hilltop, with its wide walls and claustrophobic dungeons.

Dinner was served slowly, and the many guests that were invited arrived one after the other bringing gifts and sweet words to congratulate the victor on his great achievement. Julian once again watched them with detached interest as they all came and sat at their respective places, and waited.

“Thank you,” Methias said as he got up and bowed slightly. “Thank you all for joining me on this fine day.”

Julian was sitting beside him, the first seat before a long row of unknow people that extended all the way to the far end of the lavishly furnished room. Surprisingly the dinner began without a presentation, nor did the guests ask who he was. They did look at him from time to time, but did not speak. Opposite him a pudgy man was struggling to find a comfortable position in his seat, now adjusting his clothes and now his half moon glasses, never sitting still for a moment. At times he locked eyes with Julian, then shrugged and looked away. After the long thank you speech and a round of applause, a servant finally brought the first course, a slightly different variation of it to each person sitting at the table, and they all started to eat.

“Alright,” Julian said. “I’m eating. Where are the clues you talked about?”

Methias wiped his mouth with a large silk napkin. “My friend! You worry too much. Enjoy this meal, with us.”

“Perhaps you don’t understand the urgency. I really need to keep going up.”

The noble pointed at Julian’s plate with his fork. “Have you tried the fillet?”

A murmur began to spread through the other guests. Julian felt the eyes on his whenever he looked away, the nobles watching him eat and commenting among themselves without caring for how much of it he could hear.

“Who is he?”

“Don’t you see how Sir Methias is talking to him?”

“No. Look at how he talks back! Like they’re friends!”

It went on. Julian said nothing, showing much more restraint than he thought he had in him. Then, after a long time, people began to pour out of the room and slowly the table emptied. By the time the sun set in this weird weather controlled city, only three people were left in the room. Methias, Julian and the noble that sat opposite him. Finally, he thought, some answers.

“It occurred to me,” the fat man said, “that you have invited an esteemed guest of yours to this dinner, but you didn’t even tell us his name! Is this a form of power move, sir Methias?”

Methias smiled sweetly. “No such thing, sir Umbert. My guest is a… very reserved person. He asked of me to respect his privacy. Participating in this fine dinner was already a favor he did me, out of courtesy.”

“I see.” Said the man. He struggled to get up, pushing the chair away. It fell on the ground and tumbled backwards, and one of the servants moved to grab it but Methias immediately, with a slight gesture of his hand, stilled him.

“So,” Umber paced behind Methias and approached Julian. “What if I asked you who this man is. What if I ordered you to tell me? What if I ordered him?”

He stopped right behind Julian, who had not moved an inch. His eyes went to Methias, who seemed to plead him not to move or do anything and just let Umbert do his theatricals. He was about to comply, all for the sake of finding the damned elevator without too much hassle because he couldn’t afford to die here and have to restart over while Cal was in danger. However, Umbert had decided to poke at Julian’s cheek with his fat fingers, which immediately meant he had chosen to forfeit his life. This might have been an overreaction in hindsight, but with the mental state Julian was in, he wondered if he could have done much worse. He had, after all, a certain type of warhead in his two rings. Be as it may, with a sleek motion Julian turned and sent the rotund man rolling on the ground then, without even upsetting the chair he was sitting in, he jumped out and took out his twin guns.

Methias gasped.

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Julian demanded. Umbert had stopped rolling and was collecting himself, his face a mask of red rage and sweat.

“Julian! Please.” Methias pleaded.

Umbert pushed himself up with the help of his ornate cane. His face was red, eyes bulging out in rage and he spoke with hatred and discontent as spit flew out of his mouth.

“How dare—” his voice was that of the unbelieving. That such an affront could be done to him. “Methias. You will pay for this. I will burn your whole—”

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Two impossibly loud bangs exploded in the room, threatening to break every glass or crystal in the house and echoing in the distance, reflected off the steep cliff of the western mountain. For a moment, silence reigned uncontested, the two faces of the noblemen frozen in their expressions. Methias in fear and shock. Umbert in its self-centered arrogant rage. Time seemed to resume its flow once again and before Methias could shout or scream, Umbert’s body fell on the floor and rolled to the side with its eyes still open, a fountain of blood spraying from his neck and head.

+4250 Runes.

“Dude,” Julian said, turning to Methias. “This is the people you surround yourself with? Choose better friends.”

“Y-y-y-you killed him? L-like that?” the noble stammered. “H-how? Now it’s… it’s over. It’s over for me!”

“What do you mean it’s over? Come on!”

Methias paced feverishly. “No, no, you don’t understand! Umbert was… he was… the king’s chosen steward. He was… this is impossible.”

“Man. Calm down. What is impossible?”

“Killing him!” Methias sat on his seat, trembling. “He was… protected. To kill him means… how am I going to explain this? They are going to come after me. They are going to kill me!”

Julian went over the dead body and grabbed the cane Umbert was using to walk. He rolled it with his fingers and laughed. “Oh, I see now. He could do whatever he wanted because he had some protective treasure or magic or whatnot, right? Did he invite himself over to this dinner at the last moment too?”

The noble nodded slowly.

“Good riddance then. Come on, you’re a noble. You got here, almost to the top of the social ladder, for a reason. You sure aren’t as clean as you present yourself. Show some guts. What would you do now if this was what you always planned to do all along?”

Methias stood up. “You’re right. I can spin this to my own gain. You’re right.”

Suddenly the house was a whirlwind of chaos. Methias spat orders left and right to lock the place down, clean up and send his messengers and servants to do all kinds of bidding to make the best out of the situation. After all was done, and there was a moment of seeming calm, Julian approached the noble in the garden, and led him to the gazebo at the center of the hedge maze. He navigated it without problem, having memorized the layout when they passed it on the carriage. Methias didn’t miss this fact.

“You’re more than you let on. You aren’t a simple traveler.” He said.

Julian shook his head. “No. I’m not.” Then he took out his twin guns. “These two puppies are Timmy and Tammy Jr. Do you like them?”

Methias studied the sudden apparition of the guns, and even though he didn’t know what they were or how they worked he knew that one of the two was the weapon Julian used to kill Umbert. They were gorgeous, a Victorian sublime of craftmanship and ornate gold. Thin blue lines pulsing with power ran through their length and intersected at times, where inlaid Crystal Cores channeled their latent magical power. The noble stared at the intricate designs of function and decoration, carefully made over the many months Julian had spent in the Oasis while he was in the floor below, and his mouth was open wide in awe.

“Are these… the weapons you used to kill him?”

Julian nodded. He then took out another gun, bigger but cruder. It was an early design, a prototype that not quite worked the way he wanted. The gun was unloaded, and he didn’t take out of the rings any bullets, but his face remained focused and sharp as he began to describe the weapon.

“This is Tommy Jr. Their older brother. It’s a bit… moodier than its sisters. I can gift it to you. For protection.”

Methias nodded furiously. “Thank you, thank you. With this, I can defend myself.” He was sweating, once again losing all of his nobleman composure he was beginning to regain after the death of Umbert.

“However, the weapon is not complete. It misses its most important ingredient to work. You take me to the elevator, and I give it to you.”

“I…” the noble began. Then he calmed himself down with a deep breath, grabbing the gun and calling for a servant to collect it. “Yes. I do not know where it is, but I can take you to someone who does.”

His voice was confident, and cold and calculative. Julian didn’t even notice, however, only laughing softly when he saw the gun carried away before he could change his mind. He didn’t say anything about it, letting the tiny noble with grey-white skin do whatever made him feel safer. It didn’t matter.

Soon they were on their way to the royal castle, where the King was waiting for their arrival.

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