The Arcane Extraction : A Magical Heist

Chapter 4: The Conundrum of Impasse

The sun dipped behind the ancient rooftops of Florence, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. Ashford's footsteps echoed as he maneuvered through the narrow alleys, guided by whispers among the wizarding community about an elusive forger rumored to frequent a hidden enclave.

Upon reaching the address scribbled on a worn parchment, he hesitated outside a dilapidated antique shop, its windows covered in a thick layer of dust. With a subtle flick of his wand, Ashford invoked the incantation to reveal the concealed entrance. The shop dissolved like mist, revealing a humble yet inviting atmosphere within.

A bell chimed softly as he stepped inside, the air tinged with the scent of old parchment and enchantments. Shelves lined with ancient tomes and artifacts loomed over him, their whispered secrets enticing but veiled. Behind a counter stood a figure, hunched over a parchment, meticulously etching runes with a steady hand. The man behind the counter was a balding old man with hair only on the sides. He was short yet sturdy. He adjusted his glasses as Ashford came into view.

"Maestro Mirage Junior, as I live and breathe," said the old man.

"Good to see you too, Maurice," replied Ashford, shaking his hand briskly. "Isn't it dangerous for you to come all the way here? You do have that bounty on your head, Junior," Maurice remarked.

"You know me, Maurice. I don't take chances unless I absolutely have to," Ashford retorted.

"You've come for Marcus, I presume?" asked Maurice.

"Yes, it's for..." Ashford hesitated.

"Bigger stuff," completed Maurice. "No need to explain, Kiddo. But I'm afraid there's a bit of a quandary."

Ashford scratched his chin. "Location?" he inquired, to which Maurice shook his head and replied, "Extraction."

Marius found himself in a dimly lit chamber, the walls adorned with fading tapestries that once held grandeur but now whispered tales of forgotten power. The air was thick with the scent of musty tomes and the faint aroma of aged potions, lending an otherworldly ambiance to the clandestine meeting room.

Marius, a young man in his early twenties, stood amidst this atmosphere of secrecy. His appearance, while shabby with worn robes and slightly tousled hair, carried an air of quiet confidence. His gaze held a mixture of determination and caution, hinting at a life entrenched in the clandestine underworld.

Armand Delacroix, a towering figure cloaked in dark robes, paced the chamber with barely contained fury. His anger, a palpable force in the room, crackled like static electricity. The lines etched deep into his brow betrayed his frustration at the recent capture of his minions, the tension coiling around him like a caged serpent.

His eyes, usually veiled in a calculating demeanor, now blazed with an unsettling intensity. The betrayal of having his carefully laid plans thwarted ignited a wrath that reverberated within the very walls of his stronghold. Every step he took echoed a silent threat, the air thickening with his unspoken rage.

The room quivered under the weight of Armand's fury, his normally controlled composure now a mask for the tempest brewing beneath the surface. His minions, cowering in the corners, dared not meet his searing gaze, knowing all too well the consequences of his wrath.

Marius stood stoically amidst this tempest, his facade of composure betraying the faintest flicker of concern. His mind raced, calculating the precariousness of the situation while maintaining a facade of unyielding resolve.

"I have asked for the absolute best and yet even he can't deliver it," hissed Armand, breaking his silence after a short while. Marius spoke in a calming voice, "It didn't help if your two lackies were dumb as a mountain Troll, Armand." Armand's men flinched at this; however, Armand returned a snide smirk. "Even mountain trolls are better than them, yet it was your responsibility to manage them. And thus, my displeasure towards the failure falls to you, Marius. I have no tolerance towards incompetence and should make it clear that such qualities are not welcome in my business."

If Marius was concerned, he showed no sign of it. "I..." Marius began but was interrupted by a loud commotion at the door. It sounded like the two guards who were at the door were arguing with another man.

Armand eyed one of his lackeys and turned his head towards the door, signaling him to check the commotion. "Boss?" asked the lackey. Armand sighed as if pondering his life choices. "Check the commotion, you dumb idiot," yelled Armand. The lackey broke into a run and opened the door.

"Evening, gentlemen," entered Ashford, removing his hat. The lackey who opened the door fell back to his post, and Armand gave an 'Unbelievable' head shake. "Who the hell are you, and where the hell are the front guards?" bellowed Armand.

"Easy there, Mr. Delacroix, they just felt tired and are taking a quick nap," Ashford said, smiling. Marius caught his eye, gave him a wink, and joined the smile himself.

"Tell me who you are, tell me what you want, and tell me why I shouldn't kill you right where you stand?" yelled Armand, raising his wand and pointing it at Ashford.

"Relax. My name is Ashford Thorne. I have just come to diffuse the situation. In fact, I have just the thing that you're looking for, Mr. Delacroix," said Ashford.

"Really? Then show me," demanded Armand. "Only after I have your word that Mr. Harper, I mean Marius, and I walk out of here unharmed."

Armand let out a low laugh. "You're not the one dictating the terms here, Mr. Thorne, but I will give you my word that we won't hurt you or your boyfriend here." Armand snickered while his lackeys joined him.

"Well enough," Ashford said and reached into his pocket for a scroll, throwing it to Armand, who caught and opened it. The room fell into eerie silence while Armand read the scroll, still clutching his wand.

"How do I know this is real?" inquired Armand with a doubtful expression.

"How about I give you, my word?" smiled Ashford.

"Do you take me for a fool, Mr. Thorne?" Armand hissed in anger.

"My word is my bond, Mr. Delacroix. It is as pure as starlight," said Ashford. As soon as the last word was uttered, the parchment blew, and the whole room was filled with blinding white light.

Ashford closed his eyes just as he said the last word, and the rest of them, including Marius, were blinded. It took a few seconds for Marius to regain his sight, and even after that, he could only see a blur. He felt a hand grabbing his arm and recoiled, but the grip was firm.

"It takes a few more moments, sorry, Marius," said the voice, and true to the words, Marius regained his vision. It was filled with a scene almost the same as when he entered the room, except for the few bodies lying on the ground where Armand and his men once stood.

"We need to keep moving," Ashford said as the two men started to move briskly. The commotion, however small, attracted the rest of Armand's lackeys. Ashford guided Marius through the hallway as the footsteps echoed chaotically. When they were about to turn a corner, a heavy footstep announced a man running towards them. Ashford quickly pushed Marius against the wall, stunning the man as he turned the corner.

A few moments and thuds of men hitting the floor later, Ashford was leading Marius towards a small gate that led to their freedom. "We can apparate after crossing the gate, Marius."

"Thank you, Ashford."

"You can thank me later after we reach safety," Ashford said in a hushed voice. He stopped in his tracks just a few steps before the gate. Five men were a few feet away from the gate, aiming their wands at the duo.

Marius heard the spells being shouted by the men and saw the bright light of their curses emerging from their wands. They missed both of them by a large margin as the men shouting the curses were thrown back by quick flashes of silver light from Ashford's wand. Ashford looked around in quick turns of head to make sure there was no one else.

"That was awesome," gasped Marius. He was tugged by Ashford, who stopped abruptly after a step past the gate. With a loud crack, they vanished into the air.