Necromancer For Hire- Arc 2

Arc 2, Chapter 15

The Adversary

At a small outdoor cafe in the heart of Alcorith, a very different father and son duo sat waiting to order their Sunday brunch.

The older of the two, Asher, was a man of short temper and sour nature. A mop of flame-red, mussy hair was pulled in a short ponytail and frayed bangs framed his sharp green eyes. The gray sweat suit he wore was baggy and dotted with small holes and tears. His skin was a fairly dark tannish-brown, contrasting to the child sitting next to him. On his lower back, a dark blue brand burned into his skin symbolized his graduation from the familiar guild.

His ten-year-old son by adoption, Pilate, had his head down, thoughts fully focused on the sketchpad he was drawing on. His hair was long and platinum blond, unevenly cut so that some strands went past his shoulders. Pilate wore a long sweater and cargo pants, and a pale bandanna wrapped around his forehead.

Pilate practiced biourgy, which was the magical art of creating life. Through the use of a ritual pencil, he was able to create detailed sketches of a creature he wished to summon, along with a set of necessary runes. He surged his magical energy through the symbols, and the creature was temporarily brought to life to be his servant.

"Master," Pilate said cheerfully, tapping a page in his notebook with the blended graphite of his ritual pencil. "I finally finished the bird I was drawing last night! She's gonna be an awesome summon!"

Asher rolled his eyes, taking a long swig from the glass of beer he had in front of him. "Pilate, I don't care. Just shut up and let me enjoy my morning, alright?"

Pilate, unfazed by his familar's rude behavior, went back to his drawing. He stuck his ritual pencil into one of the pockets on his cream-colored pants and retrieved a mechanical pencil. He flipped the sketchbook page and began to intently draw cartoons.

Minutes later, an apron-clad waiter waltz towards the table, carrying a plate of toast and butter. Sitting the tray down before Asher, the young man gave him a confused look.

"Hey, um, does the little boy want something to eat too?" he asked, twirling his finger in Pilate's direction.

Asher grunted, smacking his hands on the metal table. "He's not hungry, you idiot! I woulda ordered him something if he wanted food! Now get out of my face or your tip will be as small as your brain!"

Startled, the waiter sped away, clutching the tray to his chest.

As Asher began to his eat his breakfast in the most aggressive manner possible, Pilate eyed the plate hungrily. He smiled nervously, tapping the tips of his fingers together. "Actually, master, I am kinda-"

Asher abruptly stopped eating, slamming down his fork. "Pilate, what did I JUST say?! If you keep your mouth running like this, you won't be getting any breakfast tomorrow either!"

No, no! Pilate thought, hastily returning to his drawings and avoiding eye contact with Asher. I have school tomorrow!

Asher ate in silence while Pilate tried his best not to further enrage him. The meal passed away quickly, the only noise being the sound of Pilate's pencil scratching against paper and Asher's glass clinking on the table.

"Pilate!" Asher suddenly hissed, smacking the young boy on top of his head. "Duck down! Don't let them see your face!" Despite being confused as to who wasn't supposed to see him, Pilate complied, slouching down in his chair.

Asher retrieved the menu the waiting had left at the table, carefully holding it in front of his face.

Just then, a group of five people walked by, composed of two grown men, a short boy, and two women. The two men walked hand in hand with the boy (who seemed to be about his age), and the two women (at least, Pilate thought the smaller, green haired person was a girl) followed a couple inches away. They seemed to be cheerfully chatting with each other, the man wearing a beret talking the loudest.