Darryll

Prologue

The sky was a sombre shade of grey that evening. The clouds had converged in a temporary union, blocking out the once bright and overwhelming sun. This resulted is a shifting canvas of grey that twisted and wavered like the fumes of a bonfire.

The Mageist's village was hidden within the overbearing trees which alongside the cloudy sky, created a cold and unpleasant climate, matched suitably with the tall man in his white suit and white, wide brimmed hat. He walked with a simple confidence up to the gates of the village, through the large wooden arches, and into a small room with four wooden walls. Opposite the tall visitor was two booths, each containing a man dressed in uniform, under a sign that read "Visitor control".

Both the men within these booths had received a few years worth of training within their people's police force, and neither were happy that it had led to such an uneventful job. Yet, as the tall man walked in, grinning from ear to ear, his presence caused both guards to irrevocably begin shaking as though they were submerged in ice. One of the guards took to reaching below his counter, and pulling out a small pistol as a futile form of self assurance. The tall man walked over to the booths till he stood roughly a metre away, then placed both pale hands into his coat pockets and chuckled softly at the guard who held his meek firearm. The tall visitor spoke first with a wide smile upon his face. His voice was slow and airy, with a hint of something electronic hidden between its syllables. "You shouldn't ready a weapon if you aren't going to use it." He spoke to the guard with the pistol, whose eyes couldn't look any higher than his visitors waist, as he cradled his weapon within his palms as more of a ward than a tool of combat. The visitor chuckled again, and turned to the other guard, whose green eyes were frozen, glued onto an image that caused him pure fear. He had heard stories, but assumed they were only myths...
"I'm going into the village. I would like you to act as though I'm doing nothing wrong, because I don't want to hurt you. However, despite my displeasure at the thought, if you attempt to detain me from my business I will kill you violently." The visitors voice was like a dagger straight through the guards thoughts. The temperature seemed to drop within his suddenly claustrophobic booth. When the visitor left, he collapsed to the floor, his mind a jungle of thoughts. He ran his hands through his hair and began to hyperventilate, as he began to realize the gravity of his situation. Beside him, with the other booth, there was a gunshot.

The visitor walked past the two booths, and into a village. The place was quite cozy, with cobbled paths, wooden roofs, and tall grass and tall trees. Houses were neat and ordered, and there were people hanging out to the visitors left within a small park. They watched with a frigid agitation as this tall, broad man dressed in all white with his bright blue glasses that hid his eyes, and by extension, his intentions moved with an elegant demeanour befitting of a king.  Throughout the village, houses were shut, and doors were locked. The visitor walked with a purpose that exuded like a icy mist about him. His grin never tired, and his coat billowed behind him as he walked with the swiftness of someone who had no time to wait.

Within this village, in a fairly large house, three storeys high and four rooms wide, sat a man named Gold Robins the third. As the current elected president of his people, he had plenty on his mind. The government he was attempting to head was young and inexperienced, and while the small nation he led gave little resistance toward democracy, other problems plagued Gold, and he needed to address these hindrances before they could grow to become any greater of a nuisance. But it was 8 PM in the evening. Gold had been tirelessly planning and calling from his cluttered desk, which overflowed in an avalanche off restless paperwork, for the last four hours, and bore the dark eyes of a sleepless man, and the haggard face of a hungered soul. Yet rest and nourishment must wait for the importance of such work.

Piercing the silence, there came two knocks on the mansion door. Gold was not expecting visitors currently, as he was still buried in his shallow grave of work and duty, yet he pulled himself from his chair, with its seat bent around the shape of Gold's rear, and trudged as a zombie over to his door. What greeted this poor, worn down, desolate husk of a man was a haunting face, the creation of Gold Robins' greatest nightmare, a face so incredibly etched in a dark and twisted past, hidden by a pair of round, bright blue glasses that stole the colour from a pale face and snowy hair. This Boogeyman's voice still bore the same undertones of twisting steel and grinding gears as it spoke to Gold, speaking to Gold for the first time since the now gaunt and shaken president was only 5. "Hello, Gold."
The air was frozen stiff, silent between the two men. Through a dry throat, Gold replied with a croak. "Darryll."
"So you do remember me! Great! that simplifies things." Darryll's grin grew wider, "So, do you mind if we take a seat around a table and have a chat? There are matters I simply must discus with you." Gold made a stiff motion with his sore neck, and Darryll made his way into Gold's building, hanging his coat and hat upon a hanger near to the door.

Gold led his unwanted guest to his dining room, and sat at the head of his table. Darryll, finding a spare chair, sat across, two meters away, and rested his chin upon his clasped fingers. His voice echoed slightly within the mansion as he spoke slowly and clearly.
"Gold, you need to evacuate the Mageist Village with Gold Jr and Nate." Darryll paused for Gold's reaction. At first there was a shocked silence, before realisation spread about Gold's face like the curse of age, and he caught his choking breath before he would yell at his volatile visitor for suggesting an idea so ludicrous. Gold, now speaking with a careful tone as if one wrong word would set off a bomb beneath his feet, replied to Darryll, saying, "I don't want to anger you-"
"Good idea."
"...but I don't think words can describe just how important it is that I do not leave my people."
Gold ended his request with his hands upon his lap, and a steel in his gaze, pinned directly upon his guest. Darryll leaned back in his chair, and placing his hands behind his head, sighed as he stared into the distance, "Of course I know that the mageists need a leader. You folk are so dependant on protection that I steal a single small child and you go insane. It isn't my fault the very exsistance of the 3rd mask in Nate's possession angers the celestials. But..." And for this point, Darryll left his reminiscing posture in order to lean forward over the table and remove his glasses, revealing large, icy blue eyes that bore a gaze so full of confidence and self assuredness that Gold could not help but be held aback, almost hypnotized by their beauty, as Darryll spoke, "I can help you Gold. Within my future, you will be safe. I just need this village."
Gold was taken aback once again by such a request. However, he was given little time to consider a reply before Darryll spoke again, his voice softer, more delicate and soothing. "I see the darkness around your eyes. The wrinkles layered upon your face. Your aching hands, twitching lips. You're old, my friend. But you will never, never be alone. This responsibility may be too much for an old man, but I do not age. Do not worry. The world would prosper below me."
Gold dug his eyes into his palms, and groaned, his throat gurgling as though it were a can of frogs. He remained like this for a while, unsure of the right choice. After some time, when this withered man arose from his sorrows, he appeared reborn, his face set in stone and his eyes like daggers. His eyes finally had their typical golden lustre, and his voice was finally level as he declared one statement to his guest.
"You will have my people, my village, and my power, which I know you so desperately want, when you pry it like flesh from it's bone from my rotting, clasping, dried and devilish hands. You." A solitary twig-like finger was pointed at Darryll's chest. "You are a traitor. You lost any faith the mageists may have once had in you when you stole the heir to the mageist throne, Gold II, my father, 112 years ago." Now it was Darryll who became stunned, his motions freezing in surprise at this man's resolve. After a dangerous moments pause, Darryll simply chuckled a little too hard, and replied, "You guys are still mad about that? please! The kid was only 6, he had no life experience that mattered. And even if your monarchy collapsed, you built a democracy from the ashes of your fallen empire! And you got your precious little boy. I only helped you."
Unwavering, Gold replied, "You did not steal a young king in waiting in order to improve our government. You did so to steal our secrets, and study the Mageists and their control over mage. You got what you want. Now give me what I want, if I'm such a good friend, and leave me alone."

A pause.

And then Darryll stood up from his chair, and in a disturbingly silent fashion, carefully tucked it under the table. He reached his hand out into the air beside him, and through the use of artificial Mage, a substance based on the organic mage harnessed by the mageists, pulled his coat from it's hanger ten metres away in the corridor into his hand, before wrapping it about himself till he was dressed for the chill outside. His hat was next, and as the tall, broad, powerful monster placed his hat upon his head, his words rang throughout the house, their volume sentorian and harsh, "I will not argue with a brick wall, for it does not have a brain, and cannot process the danger persistance will place upon it. Goodbye, Gold, my dear friend." Darryll placed his glasses back over his eyes, and left Gold with one final grin. "Take what I must do to you as a mercy, given what has to come of your people." Another pause. And then Darryll was behind Gold the fourth. "for the betterment of humanity."