38 – Bad negotiations

The magical lamps came to life, unaided but anyone but themselves, one after the other and they lit the busy street brighter than a sun would. Their core was a regular crystal, cut with extreme precision by talented craftsmen, and when fueled by magic it lit up like an incandescent lightbulb. Below them a crowd of people cast dancing shadows on the white marble and stone of the road, and carriages and animals milled about without pause, just like during the day. The White City was a busy place, and all manner of things always happened at any time of day or of the night, business was conducted in shops or in secluded rooms atop luscious mansions, deals were brokered in the halls of nobles, guards trained in the barracks, ready to fight against Evil once again.

The king was no stranger to the fervor of the city, and he knew it all by heart. Although in his old age, he had lost the same drive that he once shared with the populace during his younger days, and now he spent his days watching his city from high above, contemplating and thinking. The corruption of power ran deep in his city, no doubt at the hands of Evil itself, his arch-nemesis.

Two people arrived at the castle gates in a hurry, and were stopped by the garrison of guards stationed there. There was a long sloping path, wide enough to fit many carriages one next to the other, that wound its way up the steep slope of the western mountain towards the castle. It was brightly lit, but its light paled in comparison to the white great stones of the caste, that seemed to glow with their own inner light.

“Stop right there!” said a guard.

Julian frowned and was already about to take action, his patience long since depleted. Going through the city had taken longer than he liked with how busy the streets were, and he was fidgeting and restless now. Methias stopped him and walked forward. “I got this,” he said.

“Guard! Do you not now know who I am?” he shouted.

The guard paused for a moment. “Sir Methias,” he stammered. “I did not recognize you in the dark. Please, accept my apology. You may pass.” He said, bowing, and immediately moved to the side.

Methias nodded to him as he passed the garrison, and Julian followed. They repeated a similar scene at the castle gates proper before they entered the long corridors and halls in white. They were a veritable maze that Methias seemed to know by heart, moving with purpose towards the throne room without pause. A feat much more impressive than the hedge maze Julian had memorized back at Methias’ mansion. The noble however had finally understood the true scope of the urgency Julian was talking about, and had lost all manner of sweet talks and ingratiating behavior, speaking little and only when necessary. Julian was silent too, not having anything to say. He had made it very clear that for him, killing everybody in this city would not only be easy, but a small price he was willing to pay if it even saved him a hour of his time. Which it didn’t, and this was the only reason he hadn’t gone on a rampage. This made Methias almost regret inviting the stranger to dinner, until he thought about what happened there and how Umbert was taken out without effort, a thing that would have required months of planning on his part if he wanted to do it himself. This way instead he could just blame the stranger once he was gone, and he would be cleared of all accusations. The witnesses could confirm, after all.

However, he could not predict just how much things would soon spiral out of control.

There was a long a long corridor leading to the throne room, shining silver in the moonlight coming from the twin lancet windows that adorned its walls. Beneath the windows the statues looked upon the visitors with their empty eyes and white bodies, with veins of gold and green encased in the marble. Above the door to the throne room, which was rich in gold and ornaments of all kinds, stood the biggest and tallest of all statues. It depicted a great monster, a hydra of many heads and a great scaled body, rendered in detail by the craftsman who sculpted the statue. It watched, coiled with its long tail around the door, and seemed to be the gatekeeper for the sacred place beyond.

“There is a protocol to follow,” Methias had warned Julian, “if you want to have an audience with the king. I have used all of my considerable influence to arrange for it to happen as quickly as possible, as thanks for what you did for me. However, some things cannot be rushed.”

Julian only smirked in response, and handed Methias 6 magical bullets. He showed him how to reload the gun, which was now dangling from the noble’s hip strapped to a silk and gold belt. Methias swallowed a hard lump in his throat but accepted the munitions.

The room was empty. A gigantic throne overlooked by a truly magnificent statue laid empty atop seven tall steps like a platform. On the statue rested a crown made of gold and jewels, and on it Julian could spot the familiar shine of chromatic metals, beryllium and a time crystal. For a moment he almost desired to take it for himself, to get his hands on the time crystal that was so difficult to manufacture… not even his reality-warping skill nor his great forge in the Oasis had been able to make one. But he did not. His eyes simply slid down the mantle, the insignia and then landed on the throne. Beside him Methias was kneeling on the cold marble floor, polished to perfection.

Chromatic metal and a time crystal can have a projecting effect though… and the placement of the statue. It’s almost as if it’s guarding the throne, hiding something under the cloth.

Julian looked at the floor. He could see his face reflected on the stone, but it was another face that looked up at him, warped and grinning at him like an evil twin. Was this the real him? The room was otherwise empty, and all the décor, all the regal jewels and mirror were nothing but hollow testaments of vanity to his eyes. Useless trinkets of no real value, not even artistic value.

And the king isn’t fucking here.

“Kneel,” whispered Methias.

Oh, right. The kneeling part. His eyes scanned the room again. He subtly activated Uncanny Observant, the skill that allowed him to influence small details of the world that only he had noticed, and the room became grey. Slowly, however, parts of it regained color. Those were the places that were hidden to all but him, and the skill highlighted them and made them even more obvious. All he needed to do was let his subconscious mind do the work. He glazed over the statue, mentally nodding to himself for having spotted the trick, then went on to examine the walls.

Touche. He thought, as the outline of a door revealed itself where only wall was supposed to be, a particularly empty wall devoid of furniture, missing the usual armored statues and jeweled display cabinets.

Methias was getting nervous. He kept trying to grab Julian’s attention to make him kneel, but the man seemed to ignore him. Instead he just stood, and spun around once as he observed the room all around him before stopping to stare at an empty wall. He was about to pull him down himself, for even Julian’s wrath would have been a better prospect than the king’s, when he saw him take out his twin guns from the mysterious place he always kept them hidden in. His heart almost stopped, but the ear-rending echo of two explosions kept him alert even through the shock and the wall Julian was staring at exploded in a shower of broken stone shards and debris.

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He got up and grabbed Julian by an arm. “What are you doing!” He shouted. “You’re going to get us all killed!”

Julian only laughed. “Relax.” He said. “I’ll fucking murder this whole town before anyone can lay a hand on me. Trust me.” then he pointed his guns at the wall again. “Yo! Mister King! Come on out or this time I won’t miss.”

Methias felt his head swim. Julian only stared straight at the door only he could see, and he was about to show that he was bluffing and switch to plan B when suddenly the wall split open. The broken section slid into the floor with a hiss, revealing the silhouette of the mighty king, dressed in his royal garbs. He tapped the floor with his scepter and walked out, clapping his hands slowly.

“My. My. My. Congratulations. You really are something else. And those weapons? They could have killed me, yes.” The king said.

He slowly paced towards the throne, climbing the steps one at a time. They seemed almost small compared to his stature, even though every step would have required someone like Julian or Methias considerable effort to climb with how tall they were.

“That’s enough,” Julian said, motioning with his gun and pointing at the throne. “You’ll sit later. I presume you already know why I’m here.”

“I do. I have been watching you, traveler. You seek passage.”

Julian nodded. “Tell me where the elevator is and I’ll go without causing any more trouble. Sorry if I shot at you but, you know, I’m in a hurry and you were playing games.”

The king touched his white beard, and it seemed to stretch the silver wrinkles of his face for a moment, the old man turning into a giant in his prime. Then they returned, and once again Julian was staring at the apparition of an old ghost, resting his weight on the tremulant scepter like a walking cane. He looked at his throne then at Julian, who was looking back right at him with sharp eyes, and sighed.

“I offer you a bargain.” the king begun.

“No.”

“But you do not know what I am asking in return.”

“You want my guns. Am I right? Or you want me to fight some silly battle for you and your stupid war. Or do this and that mission.”

“That is the way, here.”

“No.” Julian said once more.

“Very well.”

The king threw himself towards the throne, but Julian was ready. He shot him twice even as he heard the doors behind him violently swing open, and one of the bullets hit the old king in the leg while the other bounced against a bubble of protective force that surrounded the throne and ricocheted back into the room, breaking a window. A shower of glass hit the floor in a crash, and beside Julian Methias was already brandishing Tommy Jr. with shaking hands, pointing the barrel of the gun at the rushing guards that were pouring in through the doors. He shot, and a guard dropped dead. Everyone seemed to stop in place for a moment, even Methias staring wide eyed at what he had done, before the guards found their courage again and charged in.

Methias shot again, missing his target but now beside him Julian began to mercilessly shoot a barrage of bullets himself, with incredible speed made possible by his storage rings.

“You watch the King.” He told the noble as yet another platoon of soldiers poured into the room.

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