Wizards

PROLOGUE

Director Nicholas Lim hadn't slept for forty-eight hours straight, dreading this filthy meeting with the councilor in the briefing room of the Guild Tower: a tower especially made for the privatized organization of peacekeepers called Guild.

     Director Lim looked at the ancient clock placed perfectly in the middle of the wall facing him — every second dragged itself as though it might take days before landing to the witching hour.

     "Unpunctual, old buffoon," he said with a clenched jaw.

     His eyebrow flinched, it arched, it went everywhere — still the councilor neither made contact nor arrived. Director Lim, along the lines of curses under each breath, relived his abhorrence when he witnessed this man got the chair in the Circle as a councilor representing the human race.

     The director gripped the back of his elegant chair. He checked himself again for the twentieth time from the reflection of the glassed wall beside him. His thin face wore thinner. His sunken eyes sunk more, resisting the urge to fall into unconsciousness.

     He fixed his coat, dusted something off from his shoulders. That was his favorite black leather coat; he wore it for this occasion and made sure to pair it with black gloves, black pants, black shoes — he prepared for this . . . and the councilor was making him wait. The audacity, he thought.

     The door opened and Councilor Francis Umbaña walked in, wearing a cream suit lined with black strings. His looks were almost laughable — dark complexion, white hair that was almost gone from his head, and his wrinkled face and loose brown pants? The director came to smirk at the thought . . . why would someone wear a pair of loose brown pants with a cream-colored suit?

     "What's the status?" Councilor Umbaña said, low and cold.

     Director Lim tightened his fist behind his back, "Dire," he said and opened the holographic map from the big and rounded conference table. The lights in the room shut off and the beaming blue light from the map followed, slowly constructing a 3D-like image of a village.

     The map was well-spent funding, thank you very much! Every little detail was present, even fallen leaves on the grass were spotted if you look closer. It was an easy stroke to a man's ego — to feel as though they were gods staring beneath a village and its people like they were ants.

     "The activities of the Brotherhood have risen at an alarming rate," said the director, pointing at a huge mansion that was torn in half, "This mansion was standing in a village of the Magiclesses . . . owned by a wizard family. Six hours ago, it was burned down to the ground and all the bodies were turned into ashes."

     "This Brotherhood is becoming a threat to the magical community. Petty crimes . . . vandalisms against the Circle . . . now this — a national mess!" said the Councilor, putting his fist down his chin. "What's worse is that these Brotherhoods are wizards! Humans! No races from the other councilors in the Circle are causing this much trouble. This is bad . . . this is bad for humanity's position in the Circle."

     "Witches and wizards are dying and you're worried about your position?"

     "Humanity's position," the councilor hissed, "When I sit on that chair, I represent every human race in Magicana. Do not misunderstand, Nicholas. I only want the best for humanity — or have you forgotten the position of our species after the Battle for Magicana?"

     Calling him by his first name in his own office, who does he think he is? He may be the councilor but he's inside the den of the wolf himself — Director Nicholas Lim. If it weren't for funding, Francis would have been spitting blood in the ground already. But the councilor's words were indeed nothing but facts. Humans were treated like dirt after the war in 1967.

     It was hard to swallow all that when what the director only wanted was to land his fist on that crumpled face.

     "Councilor," finally, after an awkward silence, "I'm not saying the Guild cannot handle this situation. But if the Brotherhood is now a threat to the magical community, why don't you mobilize the Special Actions and Recons? They are above the law after all."

     "The SPEAR Operative?" the councilor repeated as though he can't believe those words came from the director, "We are dealing with humans, Nicholas. You know the law. All species handle their own unless it concerns the other races. The Brotherhood is our responsibility. Besides, we can't let the other councilors know this is going out of hand. We have no choice."

     "What about a human SPEAR agent? Surely our own race can keep a secret."

     "We lost contact with Julius Andromeda since his last mission."

     "There are no other SPEAR agents?" Director Lim asked, "Councilor . . . SPEARs can act on their own, unbounded by any law but the word of the Circle. That's what we need. If we hope to stop the Brotherhood before they become more trouble, we need that kind of power — authority above the law."

     Councilor Umbaña sighed. "Fine," he said, "SPEAR title can be given by any councilor. But before we grant one, we take the real assessment with tough considerations."

     The councilor folded his arms, considering his next words, considering his decision, considering if indeed that idea was the best.

     "Pick your best agent — and I mean the best. We will give your chosen agent a field test. And if that agent passed, I will grant that agent the SPEAR title."

     Councilor Umbaña paused for a second, considering his next words. "Humanity's reputation is on the line, Director. Failure is not an option. Or the trust in humanity will begin to fall."

     The director nodded. "Understood. . ." he said.

     Before Councilor Umbaña opened the door, he mouthed something to the director, which he replied with the same phrase . . . proud, loud, and clear . . . he said with his clenched hand on his chest.

     "Glory for the wizards. . . ."