The Power of Now

Against that positivism which stops before phenomena, saying “there are only facts,” I should say: no, it is precisely facts that do not exist, only interpretations…

Friedrich Nietzsche



Having drained upon lord Torquaz’s lost emotions, Magda had completely released herself from the Dragonclay. Hopefully for the Four Corners of Civilization, she was still silenced, unable to perform her spellcraft. However, her ability to alter her surroundings had increased dangerously. Wearing a joke of a black and shining leather jacket with Illyrian plate, she let her large breast naked and exposed to the world, while a tight red leather pant perfectly highlighted the perfection of her side and behind. Walking in her cage with sensuality, she turned here and there, disturbing the man known as Dantena van Torquaz. No whore is gorgeous as this one. She smiled with thin red lips, revealing her perfect white teeth, black hair surrounding her magnificent face. She had the facial features of a maiden and a whore’s body – the witch which could subjugate any true knight to her charms. Would Ithildir Merethil fall for you, Magda, woman of my dreams? 

Touching the bars with a convincing distress, she looked saddened, saying with the voice of a woman trying to remain strong:

“Please let me out, I could help you catch Sinistros right away… I could… help you,’ she lowered her pretty eyes, raising them furtively as she asked: ‘I can change. Everyone is entitled to their redemption.”

Feeling his senses fading away, lord Torquaz used mind tricks from the University to resist her invincible charm.

“I could ask Death to take you…” she suddenly proposed, smiling, like the idea just came out as the most genuine solution.

Dying? Why am I still alive in the first place? Without thinking, Dantena took his Amulet, looking at his reflection into the dragonglass. Dying? Finally?

Suddenly, Torquaz fell to the ground, tackled by the child he took as squire, his face hiding under his shaggy hair, and an exotic mask made of hundreds of leathers. The boy slapped lord Torquaz, yelling:

“She won’t kill you, Dantena-eldar. And even she did, what would happened to Sixtina? And to the orphans you took under your protection? Don’t be selfish, master, I beg of you.

Snapped out of the witch’s aura, Dantena remembered that for an absurd reason he needed to continue his martyrdom. Still holding the Amulet, he activated its complex mechanism, and the clay rose from the ground, grabbing the sorceress, angered but swiftly gagged before closing her lips.

‘Mmhh,’ the clay entered between her mouth and from the cell itself, wraps tied her back to the seat, leaving her strapped and blindfolded. “Tor…q..mmaz.” Stay quiet, demoness. Standing on his feet, helped by his masked squire, lord Torquaz forced himself not to praise the boy. Kind soul, Torquaz smiled.

“Here is the note, the baron followed the instructions,’ Florian explained before stating with cheer playfulness: ‘I gave him a fake stone, as you requested, and performed some tricks you taught me to make it look more believable.”

“Mmmh’ she kept trying ripping the gag apart, in vain. Unfortunately in need of her for now, Torquaz loosened the seals on her mouth to barely make her understandable: ‘You..mhm… Betraaa.mmh.yed the…baamm…ron.

– Yes, I betrayed the baron Willem Greyfallow. He was a fool to believe I would give him a pure magical material. And my dear Florian used the illusion school to trick him even further. But again, I just needed the note.”

The scroll now rested in his hand.

“We are almost at the end of this nonsense,’ Torquaz declared, before tightening the grip over the clay, unleashing the witch’s powerless wrath. ‘It must feel strange for a woman both feared and desired across the Four Corners as the Deadmonger to be tied in magical mud for the rest of eternity, not even able to talk, heh?”

She tried to articulate an insult – but the clay made it difficult and reacted to her outbursts: “Fuck’… you.” Instantly tightening, she fell right back down into the seat, and became slowly fully recovered. “I… will… be.. mmmhh..” She was sealed again.

Using the formula of the Dragonglass Amulet, Torquaz drained the witch’s own energy from the clay itself. First Law of Magic, the human has no magic. He harvests magic, and is never allowed to drain his own energy. Using other humans’ resources could be deemed blood magic, but again, who cared of the lunatics from history’s oblivion, as pretty might they be.

Opening the scroll, lord Torquaz indeed considered the language as gibberish. Yet, he was overflowing with the dark witch’s knowledge, and he could now easily read the Red Tongue, the draedar’s characters whose study had been forbidden ever since there was a Civilization.

Leaving the disgraced beauty trapped in eternal darkness, lord Torquaz and his squire walked back up to the Citadel.

Unsatisfied – clearly frustrated – lord Torquaz started to actually panic. Respectful of his mood swings, Florian didn’t dare to ask. The note contained something he never could have suspected. In the tongue of Shand al’Krul, the murderer known as the Sinistros slayer said:

“Milord.
I have awaiting you ever since Death refused you. No need to worry, I now know that you’ve decrypted my note. I will find you. Regards.
The Blade in the Dark.”

How?

How could this murderer have come to such length to hide his identity, being hunted down by the Iron Circle itself, and displaying conjuring abilities that exceeded what Torquaz understood? The Thrill…

Sixtina!

Night was falling, lord Torquaz knew it. It will have to reach his mansion before the bells ring for the Fog. The Slayer would go for Sixtina. And dark magus dwelled in the misty Fog. In the Dark Marquis’ legacy.


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