A Mage's Tale

Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – Lightning in the night.

The sound of a mechanism could be heard, and two sharp eyes peered at me through a thin rectangular opening in the door.
    "Password," he said, in a simple, no-nonsense way.
    "Cat feet trip in Banshee-infested fields," I said, Dutch accent and all. There were passwords for each different deal done in the Silver Garden, and a general one which changed daily, which was forwarded through telepathy to every member of the restaurant.
    "Please enter Mr. van Elmink, Mr. Caldrum will arrive in a moment," he said, opening the door and revealing himself to be a gentleman dressed in a waiter's attire.
    As the door opened, I feasted my eyes on the sights. There was a fountain in the middle of the room, a beautiful piece of architecture in which a swan drank out the pool, filling it in the same way. Around her, small cygnets were gathered, looking up to their mother expectedly. Lily pads and duckweed, and other flowers which thrived in ponds had been conjured into the pond as well, finishing up the realism of it beautifully. Around the fountain there were numerous tables, with beautiful and luxurious chairs, and tables which were easily their equal. Most were round, though they could be morphed into rectangular ones if a large party required it. Wards dotted the outside of the walls and the doors, and could only be seen if one looked at them from the side. This prevented attacks on the Silver Garden, which kept it growing as a safe haven. I had heard that there were crystals in the basement which could provide enough power to keep those wards active for years on end.
    The first two floors facilitated tables to be used for food or drinking, while the third floor possessed an extra wing which possessed rooms, to be used for criminals with no place to stay. There was an extreme cleverness to the Silver Garden, though. Known criminals were only facilitated for about as long as it took the DOPAQ to catch onto them, after which they were evicted and sometimes, to grease the palms of the Conclave, brought to them. After that, all evidence of them staying there was erased, even going as far as to delete the memories of everyone inside the restaurant. Everyone in the restaurant at that moment could be not be arrested for any crimes they had committed, through lack of evidence. To the right was a bar, stashed with both drinks of Unborn origin and magical inventions, some being potions, even. A goblin stood behind it, cleaning glasses, clearly not pleased with his day so far, his large eyebrows cast downward as much as possible.
    Behind the fountain and tables stood a stage, on which an elegant woman danced and sang. For a performer singing in a place like this, her voice was quite beautiful. The floor had a spell cast on it to mirror whatever was above it, and the restaurant's glass roof filled the floor with stars.
    In the corner of the room I saw a man, resting with his hat over his eyes. As I took a closer look, I could see him grasping his wand loosely with his hands, and he ticked on it as soon as he noticed my gaze. One of our own. This calmed me, and I headed to the bar first, eager to get a drink to make my character seem right.
The goblin behind the counter kept cleaning glasses, not looking towards me at all.
    "Sir, might I-?" I asked, but he interrupted me. He put the glass down calmly.
    "Are you going to order a drink or will you keep standing there with your mouth open? Never seen a goblin before, Dutchman? Well, this might be the last time, so be certain to feast your eyes."
    "You've got no right to talk to me like that. I would like to order a drink, yes, so I'd prefer it if you would serve me."
    His glasses had slid down lower than he wanted them to be, so he forced them up with a push of his wand, which was a strange thing, much more primal and plant-like.
    "I have all the right. Know your place, Adriaan. You're a messenger to your boss, nothing more, nothing less. I own this place, so you're the one who has no right to talk to me like that, unless you'd like to lose your head. Or something else entirely," he said, with a wicked grin which bore yellowed teeth.
    "I'm sorry, sir. My boss hadn't informed me that you were the owner of this establishment. I would have watched my tongue otherwise. You are Jin Valed, then?"
    Jin Valed was the underworld's king. An individual who holds only an allegiance to his own, and to those with the deepest pockets, he had used his excellent skills in investments to start an empire which served the people by day, and criminals and the corrupt at night. His political immunity made him untouchable, and as a result of this fact he was one of the richest and most influential persons in Kraftia. At this time I stood face to face with him, as he looked at me with a crooked mouth and a gaze which could kill. I had to be very careful, now, while still practicing my character's personality. Another body on his list of dozens wouldn't hurt him at all, and no one would cry for a simple messenger. He had grey hair which was balding, and he was covered in liver spots and moles from head to toe. He had narrow, suspicious grey eyes, and short and small ears and a similar nose, round in shape. He was dressed in a dark suit, and wore multiple golden rings on his fingers, sporting long nails which ticked as he tapped on the bar frustratedly, something which ceased as I finished my apology.
    "The one and only. I forgive you, this time. Your English is quite good. Who taught you that?"
    "Oh, I had an excellent tutor these past few weeks. I already was decent at English, but he helped me greatly."
    "Well, I'm glad. I like people who have their things together. You wanted a drink, right? I wouldn't advise anything too strong, but something strong is nearly all we have."
    There was a large and wide sign above him, with drinks and beverages written in blue with shining crystals which had been carved and pushed into the board itself. I picked out a drink which sounded nice and neutral.
    "I would like the Blue Moon, please." He frowned.
    "Are you sure? It's a heavy drink. Not to mention the effects. Not exactly well-meant for meetings of importance."
    "I believe I can handle my liquor, but I appreciate your concern." I said, staying in character. This was risky, but I believed I could handle it.
    "All right," he said, pouring the light-blue substance in an elegant glass and serving it to me.     
    "Don't blame me if this deal goes south. Don't drink too much of it, and don't you dare so much as put a finger on Percival. That boy is my protégé, and you'll pay a dear price if you harm him even the slightest bit. Give him a paper cut and you'll get the exclusive favour of dealing with my men," he said, pointing his long finger at the balcony above us. From there, a group of guards could be seeing sitting on tables, and as I looked to the right, I noticed more and more seemingly innocent clients glancing towards us. We had grossly underestimated the situation. Even if the entire COR and currently active officers came here, we'd still be at a disadvantage. I had to lure Percival somewhere else, and hope that the DOPAQ would see what I was doing.
    "I won't harm him in the least, sir, not even his feelings. We'll make the deal and he'll be as happy as he could be," I said, slipping him five Golden Goblins.
    "I have faith in you, Adriaan. Don't disappoint me."
    "I wouldn't dare, sir," I said, confidently, and walked to my table, my drink in hand. I sat down and looked through the room, enjoying my drink and listening to the music. I looked at my watch, doubting whether Percival would arrive at all. Perhaps tonight was the time he would hunt down his first soul, or it was all an ambush and they were waiting for me to blow my cover. I was sipping my drink with little care for its effects now, and hoped they wouldn't be all too grave. What it did do, however, was calm me, to quite an extent, which should have alarmed me, but didn't. I was ready to take another sip, but some buffoon bumped into me roughly, swiping the entire drink with his hand, leaving the light-blue concoction to spill all over the carpet. As I looked up at him, I recognised him to be the hat-wearing gentlemen I recognised earlier.
    "Oh, dearest me, sorry there, sir. Ah, this is such a mess. Would you like me to replace your drink for you? I don't mind, truly. After all, I was the one to cause all this," he said, and looked at me with the gravest eyes while he said those not-so-grave words. Those eyes told me that it was very unwise to order another, so I decided to take another route.
    "No, no, that's fine, don't worry. Give the staff a tip for me, will you? They will have to clean this whole mess, so it would be best to apologise to them. But I appreciate the gesture, thank you."
    "You're very kind, sir. Allow me to shake hands with you," he said, and so we did, as I sensed another reason behind it. Deftly, he slipped a note inside my sleeve, and after handing the waiter at the door a dozen Silver Serpentines, he retreated to his seat again, forgetting the original purpose of his visit.
    I scratched my arm, and retrieved the paper, keeping it in the palm of my hand, glancing at it from the corner of my eye as I attempted to watch the performance.
   "They have us in the pocket, we've been duped. There's far too many guards here for just any ordinary night, and I don't suppose it's just them being careful. They might not know it's you, however, so we'll continue as planned. You'll have to trick Percival into taking you elsewhere. The drink was good judgment on your part, since that might coax him into bringing you to a secure place, but if I hadn't aided you, you would have been out already. We'll try to track him, but in case we can't find you, try to dissuade him from doing it all together. Otherwise, squeeze the doll's arm if you're feeling confident, and we might be able to track you down. Keep on your toes, be polite, do not make the deal too easy. Godspeed," it read, and I dropped it on the ground in disbelief, scorching it thereafter, leaving no smoke in the air through a spell which absorbed it. What the hell had I been drinking? It might have been a sleeping potion, or something of a more euphoric nature, guessing by its name. As time went on, I began to feel light-headed and sleepy. Staying awake was a struggle, and my eyelids fought me at every second along the way. I heard a knock at the door, and turned nervously, finding the waiter behind it knocking at me. I straightened my suit and my hair, before standing up to greet them. A password was asked for, seeing as Glamour like mine could easily have been used to steal Percival's identity, and in he came, followed by two henchmen. He wore a navy-blue suit, with a waistcoat and white shirt underneath, accompanied with a blue tie. He had black wavy hair, most of which covered his forehead, and he had eyes which were blue like lightning, examining and gauging the room with every pace he took in it. His nose was soft and round, and his eyebrows were large and very present. His face was marked with a scar on the bottom of his left cheek, shaped like the burn marks of a victim struck by lightning. Besides the scar, his face was sharp and his attentive gaze showed intelligence, which was peculiar, considering his background. He looked towards me finally, and with a smile too kind for the person I had been told he was, greeted me with a handshake. He was shorter than me, and when I took a closer look at him, I noticed that he couldn't have been much older than sixteen. His handshake was strong and firm, but not overly so.
    "Greetings Mr. Elmink. I must say, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Thank you for making the trip to meet us, it was of the utmost necessity. Were we to try to cross bubbles, we would have been apprehended immediately. Your organisation has a little more leeway in that regard. Please, take a seat." One of his guards pulled back my seat for me, and pushed it back under me as I sat down. Percival's voice was soft and deep but his words had a certain impact to them as he spoke, as if you could tell by merely listening to him that he was important. He came off as a very mature person, in mannerisms and speaking skills alone, but I could see, perhaps by my gift, that there was something crooked to it.
    "I understand completely. We are more than happy to help you in this case." As the three gentlemen sat down, they were immediately offered coffee, which they accepted happily. If only I had been clever enough to ask for such a thing.
    Percival rotated his cup towards him and took a cautious sip, looking towards me with a concerned gaze.
    "Forgive my bodyguards, Mr. Elmink. Recently we've found out that the DOPAQ has taken notice of my... aspirations, so we've had to take security measures."
    "I noticed already by the increased amount of security here, and you are forgiven. Kraftia boasts the highest number of Laethers in any Bubble, so there is no reason not to be keenly aware of what you're facing. Mr. Valed seems quite fond of you, Mr. Caldrum, something I was not aware of earlier. How so?"
    "Please, call me Percival," he said, with a polite smile. "He recognised my potential. It was through his advice that my superior took me in. But let's get down to business, shall we? The military wands, are they produced locally, or are they borrowed from the Dutch military?"
    "They're produced locally, so you won't have to worry about the issues of serial numbers or tarnished produce. They're military wands, but only in name. You see, our wands are of higher quality than the ones the military uses. Our rate of fire is faster, and our crystals store magical energy with higher efficiency. We can cater them to your workforce directly, according to the results of your personality tests. A normal wandmaking process would do much better, but I'm afraid we can't very well transport your entire force to the Netherlands, now, can we?"
I was beginning to feel more and more tired, my eyelids sinking despite my best efforts. I managed to hold onto the table sturdily with one hand, and pinched my palm with the other. I had to do it correctly, and try to have him bring me somewhere else, but I had to call in support before he too was safe. It was a difficult conundrum, as I could show the symptoms, but not overdo it so much that I might fall asleep.
    "No, we cannot," he said, with a charming laugh, before the concerned look he gave me earlier returned. "Sir, you've looked ghastly ever since we arrived here. Is something the matter? Might I get you a glass of water?" This was my chance. I could finish this, here and now.
    "I've been feeling sick ever since I came here. Perhaps it's travel sickness, I don't know. Can we continue our business outside? The fresh air might do me good," I said, loosening my tie a bit to appear sickly.
    "Of course, sir. We'll move you to a secure location, and negotiate our terms on the way. Come along, please," he said, taking his jacket off the chair, and guiding me with a hand on my shoulder. The waiter opened the door for us, just as my legs began to struggle. I struggled to move as I went along, and soon we were removed a distance from the Silver Garden. It was now or never. We'd gotten a few blocks away, fairly close to the DOPAQ headquarters. I slipped my hand in my pocket while I could still move it, and began to hold my fingers around the doll's hand. Before I could take hold of it, however, I collapsed, powerless.

"Mr. Leuvaarden, wake up, please," Percival said as I woke, as he tapped me on the shoulder. I could see my wand on him, the end of it sticking out his pocket. He stood above me first, then lowered himself, resting on his right knee. "I believe you should tell me the truth this time. I advise you to do so to your best capability, unless you'd prefer the consequences of dishonesty."
    "Is that a warning, or a threat?" I said, looking him in his eyes.
    "That depends entirely. If your intentions were to con me, or to gain information from me, it would be a warning. However, if your intentions were to kill me, it would be a threat. You don't strike me as a conman, so, which was it, Mr. Leuvaarden?" I had to make an excuse, luckily, I was quite the liar and inventor of stories.
    "I heard of you from my father, who is in charge of the operation which is out to kill you. Their inability to take immediate action and their eagerness to kill you made me angry, so I decided that I would take action myself. I paid some of your employees off, then the Dutch DOPAQ once I found out about your deal, and changed my visage into Mr. Adriaan's. Your employees already knew the password to the Silver Garden, so all I had to do was act as your client would. Once there, however, I realised security was a lot tighter than I might have anticipated, so I had to go elsewhere in order to dissuade you from carrying out your plans."
    "Was the Blue Moon drink part of your plans, or mere coincidence?" Percival asked, curiously.
    "Mere coincidence, but it helped me greatly."
    "And this," he said, holding up the doll which he must have found on my person, "was this part of your plan also? A way to call in the troops, so to speak?"
    "It was. My father gave it to me when I was young, instructing me to pinch its hand whenever I was in danger."
    "I see. Why did you not engage once we were outside? From what I've heard you're an excellent duellist, and I know for a fact you took down the Gorgon. I'm but a lowly wizard, and my two bodyguards were more for show than protection."
    "I know you're lying, I can sense it on you. I did so earlier as well. I didn't want to die, so I aimed to alert my father to my situation, to get a substantial amount of Laethers as back-up." I then raised my back, straightening it and sitting against the wall and putting a hand on my raised knee. "What will you do now that you've heard my story? Will you kill me, take my soul, and flee?"
    "Kill you? Please, Olivier. I am not some killer, believe me. I've never taken a man's life before, even. You've done me no wrong, and I see no reason why I should dispose of you, seeing as you walked into the Silver Garden and walked out of it with the same information. I'll give you a choice. You can walk away right now and leave all of this behind you, or you can try to dissuade me. I saw you on the television earlier this week, we've similar ideals in mind, you and I. I see no reason to treat you as an adversary."
    "You already knew who I was, didn't you?"
    "I did," he said, nudging his head, "from the moment I walked in and saw you. Your Glamour was excellent, Olivier, down to a fault, but your mannerisms weren't quite there. I've seen Adriaan on earlier occasions. He's a brutish man who can only supress it during business. He has the elegance of an elephant, while you flowed like water to make up appearances. Being overly careful can get a man killed as well, you know." He stood up straight again, and looked me in the eyes.
    "I'm going to give a choice," he repeated, handing my wand to me. "Your choice consists of two options. You can walk downstairs without any interference from me, and leave this all behind. My men won't hurt you, they won't even move a single hair on your head. You'll walk away unscathed, with a clear conscience. Or," he said, as he began to pace around the room, "we'll both walk downstairs, and you'll try to dissuade me over a glass of whatever you'd like. We can talk for however long you'd be comfortable with, or until you're satisfied. If you are done, you'll be safely escorted away from my position. I'll give you time to think, and I'll move downstairs in the meantime," he said, placing my wand in the palm of my hand, and turning his back to me.
    Then was my chance. My chance to gauge Percival for myself. I activated my gift of a curse, tapping the side of my head with my wand, and so my vision of colours began. My eyes felt reopened, like I'd never looked at such a portrait of a personality before. It was larger than any of the few I'd ever seen, meaning he had quite the developed personality for someone of such a young age. I'd looked at the elderly sometimes, just out of curiosity, and this came very close to that.
    White was present nearly everywhere, whether it would be in the background or foreground. Its locations expressed both a desire to do good to those he knew and to do good to strangers.
There were wide gashes and strokes of black, but in comparison to the prevalence of the other colours they fell short, luckily. They were dots to a massive landscape, which surprised.
There was blue of both the light-blue and the dark-blue variant, unsurprisingly. In both cases, they meant grief, the lighter type signifying sadness and the darker variant standing for a history with depression. The lighter variant was less prevalent than the darker one, which worried me.
Strokes of darker green were present at the bottom, almost like a child's drawing of grass. It told me that he was stubborn, something which I would have to surmount. Yellow was also present, a great deal of it, too. It meant bravery, and it rivalled Stargazer's amount. Not a huge surprise, considering how risky his plan was. Red and purple were the last colours present, yet there wasn't nearly as much of it as the others. As he walked downstairs and I stopped tracing his painting, I stood up, weighing my options.
    I couldn't just walk away from this, even if this entire operation would cost me my life. I wouldn't see five people die while I could have averted it, even if it meant saving the life of another. I had to do this, for their sake, and the others who relied on me. If I couldn't persuade him not to carry out his plan, I might be able to kill him if the rest arrived, especially if Stargazer was among them. That is, if he hadn't taken any precautions to make sure his plan would have been carried out without himself. Nevertheless, I headed downstairs, confident in my own ability to save the souls of five people.
    "Are you staying, or are you leaving?" Percival said, a cup of coffee in hand.
    "I'm staying. I'm not letting you take the souls of five innocents. Meaning no offense, of course."
    "Oh, you shouldn't worry about them being innocents. I made my list very meticulously, and to call even a single one of them entirely innocent would be a crime of its own."
    "You wouldn't even consider the possibility of sharing the names of one of these criminals with me, would you? The DOPAQ could lock them up quite easily, and in my opinion, a lifetime of jail is a lot worse than death."
    "And you would have me take the lives of innocents instead? My mission must be accomplished. You would think the same if you had known my sister. No can do, Olivier, and I'm rather sure you understand that as well. As you place them into protection, I'm certain the officers can do some digging of their own. After all, two of them are easy to find out with some reasoning, and one is not too far away. Those are the only free hints I'll give, I'm afraid," he said, sitting down on a velvet couch, and beckoning me to take place on the other side.
    "Would you like a drink? Jean makes a mean coffee, and given that drink's effects, I don't think you would mind it very much."
     "I'd like some coffee, thank you," I said, and Percival nodded towards an expecting Jean, who sat behind a bar. He began to grind the beans into powder. I resumed giving my attention to Percival, who I noticed was wearing one of two necklaces around his neck, the top of a cross peeking out from under his shirt.
    "Are you religious?" I asked, pointing at his necklace.
    "Oh, this?" he said, taking it from under his shirt. It was made of pure silver, and was made with a great amount of detail. "I'm not quite sure myself." He said, smiling softly while looking at it affectionately. "My mother, she..." he said, and trailed off, putting his hands on his knees and digging into them with his fingers before taking a deep breath and continuing. "She believed in God, and we all did, when the times were better. When she died, my sister, Sophia kept it, because she felt she had to continue the role Mother took on. When my sister passed, this was all I had left of her. I'm not sure if I can believe in a God, not after all this, but the thought of it gives me strength, and that's all that I need."
    "I think a lot of religious people are like that. Do you think he would be one of us?"
    "God?" Percival asked, raising his eyebrows, "well, if he would exist, I'm sure he would be akin to us. Though, I believe that's a bit vain from our perspective. It makes the Unborn seem like the failed children, what could have been, and paints us as half-gods. I don't like that thought very much either."
    "I understand, neither do I, really, it was just a thought," I said, and we spent a few seconds in silence before Jean brought me my coffee.
    "Thank you," I said, and took a cautious sip of it. Still far too hot, it seemed.
    "You're one of us, aren't you?" I asked, putting the cup down. Percival seemed fazed at first, but settled down quickly, seemingly embarrassed. "Calm down. There's no need to be afraid or embarrassed. It's not your fault, no part of it."
    "How did you know?" He asked, nervously.
    "A strand of your hair changed colour all of the sudden. That charm you're wearing around your neck, it seems to be damaged. May I?"
    "Of course," he said, handing it over to me. I left it in my hand before attempting to repair it, taking a closer look at it. It was made out of steel, like any other of its kind, but I could feel magic buzz at the core of it, spreading throughout the object like roots of a tree. Once I flipped it over, I saw the image of Lady Fortuna on it. Either this was a relic of Ancient Rome, or it was an excellently made copy. Upon closer examination, I could see cracks on the bottom left. Golden energy leaked from it, and it would only take a few weeks before it would leave the charm powerless.
    "Incredible craftsmanship. Who gave you this? I'm sure if the Banshees came by it they would sell it immediately, but finding something like this in the Unborn world is very rare," I said, putting it down gently.
    "A Romani gave it to my mother, when I was just a baby. Or so she told me, it might be one of you, disguised as one of them. Can you fix it, or is it a lost cause?"
    There were groups of wizards still in the Unborn world, but much smaller than our numbers. In the abundance of fake practitioners of magic, there were some which kept to the true nature of it. Some illusionists, a handful of magicians, a Oracles and a couple of fire-swallowers were magicians in hiding from the magic world, or cast out of it by Benders who overstepped the roles put on their shoulders. What the Conclave did with these people, I was uncertain of, but I knew it wouldn't be the purest thing.
    "I can fix it, that's something you shouldn't worry about it. I was most proficient at charms in school, and I could very well create something better than this, but I'm afraid we don't have the time. This'll have to do for now," I said, putting my wand an inch or two away from the charm, and tracing it along the cracks in it delicately. I copied the charm's original structure, filling it with the steel it had originally and the effects which the charm produced. Once finished, I gave it back to Percival. He put it on and the strand of hair returned from dark-blue to black.
    "Still, you only emitted static electricity once I took it from you, so I'd bet you're hiding something."
    Percival looked at me with a bit of a glare, but put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. From within the rafters of the ceiling came a beautiful pearly bird, with a white beak and wings which looked like rainbows due to the rays of the sun. An Agni reflects the surface of whatever it's near making them look like birds made of cloud-filled skies very often. It had a sharply pointed beak, with feathers which sat up on the top of his head, and a tail of feathers which reached until Percival's back when it settled down on his shoulder, changing the colour of his feathers to the same shade of dark-blue. The Agni had been hunted all over the world, and even the fact that Arthur Pendragon had spared so many of them hadn't helped them in the long run. Their unique, pearly coats were a highly valued clothing accessory, and a highly illegal clothing accessory as well.
    "An Agni," I said, in admiring wonder. "She's beautiful. What's she called?"
    "Jayla's her name. My sister named her, since she was the one Jayla came to at first. When our house was struck by the Blitz, she came to our rescue and helped us. She led us to food and shelter, and she was always great company." He took a nut from the small bowl to his side and fed it to the bird, which chirped happily in response.
    "So you're a Boltian, aren't you? Fascinating, I've never seen one of you before. From an Unborn family no less."
    "I am. It was tough to live as an Aberrant in that place. My parents sheltered me, and though they loved me and took great care of me, but I saw the fear in their eyes, their judgement. They were disgusted by me for what I was, and yet loved me, simply because I was their son. My sister was the only company I could enjoy being with. She didn't discriminate me, she wasn't afraid of me, she only took me for who I was. Her brother."
    "I see. I understand that I can very be difficult losing the only friend you've ever had. Why don't you tell me your side of the story?"
    "Why?" he asked, frowning. "Haven't you heard the story from your father already? What's the point?"
    "I can't afford letting them feed me lies to put me up against you. Besides, if you're the one to tell me, it will be all the easier to relate to you. If you're comfortable with telling me, at least."
    "I rarely tell anyone, but you seem like someone I can trust. Very well. Listen closely," he said, straightening his back before bowing forward, folding his hands together.
    "I was born in the year of 1936, but my powers only manifested when I was four. My parents faked my death, knowing they had no other options. They knew I was different, so they tried their absolute best to keep me safe. Whenever friends or family came over, they hid me, stuffing me in the basement. They were kind even when doing so, but that fear was inerasable. When war came it became more difficult for them to care for me, because their rations were spread more thinly. They sacrificed what they could, but Sophia, my sister, never made me go hungry, sacrificing her own food and well-being for me. A year after it started, the Blitz came. Matters were starting to get bad. Our street was fairly unscathed, a miracle during that time. I provided for my own survival with the little magic I knew through instinct. But one day, the Nazis attacked before the sun rose, and we were far too late to evacuate. We tried to run through the streets, but the bombers were there already, and they were eager at the sight of civilians. I projected a ward above us, but I was only able to save Sophia, in the end."
    "That's terrible. I'm so sorry to hear that, Percival. It must have incredibly tough to deal with that. What did your sister and you do? You couldn't exactly head to an orphanage, could you? How old was she anyway?"
    "No," he said, shaking his head, "and I knew that very well. My sister was fourteen years old when our parents died. We performed tricks on the street. We danced, played music on pots and pans, performed little plays. Morale was down, so the people needed all the happiness they could get. My sister taught me all she knew in the meantime, from English to History to basic Mathematics, even. She taught me all she knew. Eventually, we even gathered enough money and rations to rent a place of our own. It wasn't much, but it felt like home to us, and we made sure it would be. With what little money we could spare, we decorated it, bought books, and did all we could to make it home. I had already been taught to read, so there was great fun in immersing myself in new worlds, worlds which weren't so grim. As time passed on, and we were forced to change the location for our begging, I came across a Bubble's entrance by accident. A bit later, a man emerged from it. He gave me the most curious look, sensing my magic potential. He talked with me later on, and agreed to help me and bring me books, to teach me magic and basic schooling. He even brought me through the Bubble a few times to see the world, and to teach me privately."
    "You know the Banshees' leader?" I asked, flabbergasted. Even the DOPAQ had no intel on any of that, and assumed earlier Percival was the man pulling the strings. Neither had I any idea that the Banshees' leader had the power to Bend the bubbles to his will. It explained things, certainly.
    "I do. This is a series of kindnesses, all to accomplish a goal of his own. After this, payment comes. I do not care what it is, I'll do it. I'd do everything to get Sophia back. I'll continue," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "She and I shared great interest in the spells, and we tested as many as we could."
    "Hold on a minute," I said, holding up my hand and extending it to him. "might I see your wand? I won't break it, I swear. I couldn't bring myself to do such a thing, not as a wandmaker"
    "Certainly." Percival said, with an expecting gaze, placing the wand in my hand gently. It was black as the night, and cast tiny clouds along it as I held it. It was a curious choice to have picked the Cirillian's skin as shards for this wand, but it seemed to have worked out. Along it I could see the webbing of lightning, spreading a blue light throughout. A Vari's heart was used as the core for this, and the material used was made of rosewood, polished extensively. I knew this one very well, and then I recognised why the painting of earlier was familiar.
    "You're that child who was in my shop so long ago, when I had just started. You came in shyly, in your over-sized dark-blue coat and asked for a wand. I provided it for you, and you paid in Golden Goblins."
    "Bingo, Mr. Leuvaarden. Do you remember now? It must become clear why I chose you."
    "Because I was kind to you, unconditionally. That's why you didn't kill me, because you realised I was a decent human being."
    "You hit the nail on the head. Might I have it back now?" he asked, extending his hand this time. I handed it back to him, and he put it in the inner pocket of his jacket with great care.
    "But as always, good things have to come to an end. The situation got direr as the war went on, and our income started to become much and much smaller. Eventually, we couldn't afford to pay rent anymore. But to give up our home and live on the streets? Never. The little pride we had couldn't handle that. We remained adamant that we could pay it eventually, giving what little we could spare to our landlord. But one day, he couldn't handle it anymore. He had gotten drunk, as the people who owned the apartment were constantly buggering him and asking him to kick us out. He took a knife and barged into our home. When we were arguing, he got aggressive. He took a stab at me, which I was able to evade. The next one, however, I was not. Sophia took it for me, and she died in my arms. She bled away while I tried my best to save her, but the wound was too deep and too large. What little Restoration magic I had learned couldn't fix that, nothing could. Do you understand now, Olivier, how cruel the world can be? One day, the sun shines upon you, while the rest of the week life can give you rain. That's what it's felt like these past few years, and I'd do anything to get a full week of sun back. I'd happily sacrifice five bastards for one pure soul. And at the end, I'd do it all again," At the end of his story, my mouth was almost agape. Life hadn't been kind to Percival, and a story like this I had never heard.
    "Percival, I'm sorry. That's-"
    "Terrible, I know. Everyone who I've told says the same. Don't try to console me, since nothing will make me feel better anyway. I should have been the one to die there. Perhaps I shouldn't have been born at all. Without me, Sophia would have had a bright future. If my parents had survived, she would have been destined for greatness. If they hadn't, she would have been adopted by a great family, and she would have flourished all the same. If I die through this, I won't regret it."
    "Don't say that, please. Your life holds value, Percival. There are those who care for you, those who you know about and those you don't. Please, turn yourself in. The majority of your time with the Banshees was as a minor, and it wasn't like you had much of a better choice. You'd be looking at a few years of prison at most, and you'll go into rehabilitation during your stay. You'll return from it like a new person, reborn from your previous self. You have great potential, Percival. From what I saw, you're intelligent, brave and a capable young man. That trick with the mirrors was magic of the highest level. You shouldn't let this go to waste," I said, drinking my then cold coffee. I'd gotten so absorbed in the story that I had forgotten all about it. I put my hand on his which he had left on the table, and he pulled it backwards rapidly at first, as if I was going to hit him, then put it back slowly, and looked down before returning my gaze.
    "No, I'm already too far in. These people on my list shouldn't go unpunished either. You'll see for yourself what they're like. Besides, my debt to him," he said, looking anxious, "it cannot go unpaid. I can't tell you, for fear of my own life."
    "I get that, but we have to try, don't we? Please, Percival. There's a solution to this, even if it may not seem like it. All right. What you said earlier, about our similar ideals, what were those?"
    "We share a will to reunite the magic world with the Unborn one," he said, finishing his coffee afterwards.
    "Are your methods aggressive? That's what troubles me. There are those who believe we could win a war against them, but I believe that's impossible. Even if we produce a spell which can deter their weapons, the loss of life beforehand would be too great. Their numbers itself are too great as well. They could defeat us armed with only their bare fists if they wanted."
    "It depends on the person," he said, putting his cup down.
    "Excuse me?" I asked, not comprehending.
    "It would be foolish of me to not have taken precautions. I've planted information in the minds of many Unborn, and obscured it afterwards. It contains extensive proof of our existence, both negative and positive traces of our history, and naturally, whatever opinion they have formed on us. So it depends on the person. Let's say I distributed that information to a racist. They wouldn't be very kind to different types of humans, would they now?"
    "That's an approach I haven't heard of. And you can activate this yourself, then?" I asked, curiously, before I quite realised the horror of it all.
    "I can. It's also activated once my vital organs stop working, or if I'm in mortal danger. I'm the only one which can deactivate it."
    "And if the DOPAQ comes after you, you'll activate it? That would be quite the mess."
    "Indeed. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes, dealing with this. So you understand now, don't you?"
    "I do. But I'll keep trying. The life of your sister is not worth the lives of five others, Percival. No matter who they are. There is value in each life. Each death shoulders their loved ones with as much pain as you've felt for your entire live, and that will count for five especially. And if you mess up the spell, there's a chance she won't come back as herself at all. It will be hard for her memories to be intact, to start with. Even if you do succeed in completing the ritual, there's no way to tell if her personality is intact, or whether she's healthy enough to keep on living. Or willing, even," I reasoned, but I could see in his eyes that he knew I was getting desperate. My arguments were all out on the table now, and we were locked in a conflict we couldn't win.
    "I understand that. Those will be the risks I have to take. I have to do it right, for her sake, and for my own." He looked me straight in the eye, and the gloomy look he had begun to get on his face disappeared. "Olivier, I want to thank you."
    "For what?"
    "For trying to understand me, for trying to stop me. Others would have found me disgusting from the start, or wouldn't have bothered with me to begin with. Thank you for your consideration, for your humane treatment of me."
    "It's my pleasure," I said, smiling kindly. "What else was I to do, give up without-" I said, but my words were cut off as the door was smashed out of its posts by a spell.
    "You said you hadn't sided with them," Percival said, softly, as he looked around to the other end of the room. He lost control of his power as Jayla flew to him when bolts and sparks began to gather. Electricity danced around the room, scorching everything in its way. Percival ran to the end of the room, and began to Translocate as rapidly as he could. Jean was being arrested, and looked at us helplessly. I projected a ward between Percival and myself.
    "I haven't lied, Percival! Make your escape now, we will meet again, and I will stop you!"