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“Majesty, we have gathered a list of possible suspects,” said another channel.

“No, leave it be,” he thundered, “-call a press conference, I will be at the castle shortly,” a press toggled his phone. The windswept hilltop provided the much-needed view and distance. “A Phantom ran powerplant exploded earlier this morning. No report on the injured or cause of the accident has been relayed. Efforts are being focused on stabilizing the reactor and recusing life. Nothing has struck Hidros this hard during this century; has the war for the Wracian Empire reached Hidros’ soil? Time will tell, I’ve been Stephanie from Antom News.”

A wrapping sound whispered, a shawl. Somebody materialized, “-at least react,” said a familiar voice.

“Waste of energy,” came a nonchalant sigh, “-long time no see,” he side-glanced, “-Kul.”

“Long time no see, master,” returned a stronger, much more confident tone, “-we need to talk.”

“About Asmodeus?”

.....

“Yes.”

“Let’s walk and talk,” he offered.

“Lead the way,” she gestured. A cigarette lit by force of habit, the path was set in stone(a humbling promenade of promise to experience the beauty and tranquility of nature) thus hung a noticeboard.

“I heard from Elixia, the kidnapping and subsequent torture brought by the gods.”

“It was nothing,” he puffed, “-I learned more from the experience. Tell me, what’s happened?”

“As I related before, mind if I recap?” she asked with a tilt, he blinked and nodded, puffing the smoke away from the walkway, “-Asmodeus left after a demon. We lost good people, I killed close friends, he turned his group against us, I had to fight, there was no escape, I had to kill. Their faces, the laughs we shared, it’s all here, it’s all fresh... I’m going to get revenge on Asmodeus.”

“So he turncoat?”

“I guess?”

“Suppose it’s to be expected. Frankness is thy creed. Tell me more about this Charlie, what was he like, what did he do?”

“I don’t know, he was a demon, I guess. He showed his true self – everything’s liked with operation Wied.”

He paused, “-whatever happened to The Royal Theater of Arts and Culture?”

“It opened a few months later. Most of the damage was centered around the theater. We lost many people; Lizzie, Ulgra, Syndra – a few names of the long list of noble representatives who gathered that night. After his majesty left – all the burden fell upon Elixia and the ministers. They handled the affair gracefully; turning hatred into sympathy – placing the blame onto a shadow of a reason,” she winked, “-there’s my frankness.”

“Yes, yes, I get it,” he puffed, “-no need to be sarcastic over my comment. I take it all, you have wit.”

She stopped in turn, “-majesty?” her gaze dimmed, “-are you not angry?”

“Angry at what?” he snuffed the cigarette, “-at the death of Ulgra, Lizzie?” a cold wind washed his visage and tugged the long white hair, “-I guess not. I’m over feeling sad, I’m over the emotions I hold deeply. It’s,” the bud sparkled into ash, “-just like the end of the cigarette – everything stops, nothing lasts forever, nothing, I truly mean that.”

“Not going to take revenge?” she walked, “-I’m disappointed.”

“Well, I suppose I should be angry,” he shrugged, “-alas, fake anger would only shame their memories,” a portal opened, “-let’s go.” A roll of the eyes carried through the fissure – a massive coliseum rose on the other side. He gave a faint whistle and stopped in awe, “-how big did they make the center?” It was massive, the flowing river grew into an artificial lake – more buildings propped, the sky brightened far bluer than in memory – the long and lovely patches of green separating the buildings added to the overall beauty.

“Impressive, isn’t it? the Royal Theater of Arts and Culture; home to a new wing – the Royal Library of Magical Arts. A repository from libraries all around Hidros, including Arda and Easel Run Gard. I’ve spent day and night scouring pages of an ancient manuscript.”

“In search of?”

“Any hints to where Asmodeus might have run to? Besides, there are some books reserved for only the elites, we talking about relics of the past... one of which is the lost diary of Tempest Haggard. The perfect example of, ‘-either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain’ I respect the man, tales about his exploits are fearsome,” she subconsciously led Igna to a massive memorial of gold and silver. It stood upright as a piece of paper upon a pedestal – the writings in gold and page in silver – its scale went thrice the height of an average joe. ‘-In memory of lords and dames who died on 3rd August of the year X129, we offer a humble memorial from which later generations can remember your names.’

“Come watch our show,” an acrobatic young man flipped and did cartwheels, “-come watch our show, we’re paying honor to the royal family,” they caught the eye of many curious casual visitors, the center of which was Igna. The boy flipped, bright crimson eyes locked, and went, “-a nightwalker,” he commented.

“And?”

The master leaped into a jog, “-where are we going?” Igna did not answer save the pamphlet. Past lovely side streets, over a rustic bridge and into a great open space in the middle of which rose an open-air theater, “-there,” he stopped, “-the Order of the Nightwalker. Silent protectors of Hidros,” agents performed to an endearing crowd. They hung at the other edge. “-Shouldn’t we get a closer look?”

“No,” came with a deeper intention, “-the gathering feels off. Let’s wait and see,” a bench to the side provided physical comfort, as for mental; on scanning the other benches, one thing grew apparent – PDA.

“Get a room,” she whispered, “-reminds me of him and his lusty demeanor... when I find him, I’ll kill him.”

“My, why don’t you both share a room,” echoed Igna, “-Kul, you sure you don’t have feelings for the Prince of Lust. I’m sure the time spent as his partner must have grown-” an icy sensation whiffed, “-no need for the death stare, I’ll bite my tongue. So much for being frank.”

‘Always wants to tease,’ her attention rolled onto the neighboring stalls, “-master, I don’t want to be weird, but I think there’s something wrong.”

“No familiar faces in the crowd?”

“No, not that, it’s the vending stalls. The area seems to have been closed.”

“Well, sit back,” he kicked one leg over the other, “-we’re in time for the climax.”

A tall man of foreign blood described with usually pale complexion, harsh brows, and thick brows over which hung a wrinkled square forehead tore through the people he stared. Each arm carried two draped ladies, the outfit was lavish as for the ladies – the outfits barely sufficed to cover their legs and chest. A sudden gong hit, a performer, a lovely maiden, spurred onto the stage and struck a pose – classical music swung, her movements were graceful to a certain extent, “-she’s moderate.”

“Shut up, I’m watching.”

“Amazing,” grunted the man, “-look, isn’t the girl just amazing.”

The show lasted fifteen minutes. Loud grunts and whistles were blown at intervals during said fifteen minutes – the adjacent crowd was displeased to no courage, and none bothered wasting their time. A smaller, less boisterous outline approached. It tapped the big man and whispered – the latter listened, cutting his loudness. The casual smart figure took long thoughtful glances at the surroundings.

“An argument?” remarked Igna.

“Looks like a normal conversation to me,” added Kul, “-master, honestly, what are we doing here?”

“Here’s the good part,” and he was right for the big man flung his arms in disappointment and stormed towards the stage. Said area was open to the public, anyone with talent and courage was welcomed to set foot on the stage, draw a crowd and perform. For the saturated idol market, having an opportunity for young talent to showcase their skill in front of an audience without the whole glamour and vanity proved a saving grace. Comedians were all the more popular – laughter trumped even the perviest of fans (choosing joy over the fleeting moment brought by a wardrobe malfunction).

The big blob went from left to right, stopping shy of what seemed to the organizer, “-tell me, young man, how much for a private show?”

“Pardon me?”

“You know what I mean,” thundered the man, “-how much must I give to have her join one of my movies.”

“My apologies, sir, but who are you?”

“The name’s Syion Edgar. I’ve directed many films and have worked with superstars. That girl there has the potential to be a star. There will be money involved.”

“Syion Edgar never heard of it.”

“I work for Bright Barnacle Film Company. Come on, this is an opportunity to grow.”

“An opportunity,” came an uninterested exhale, “-I appreciate the offer. As a leader of this rag-tag group of street performers, I can’t risk one of my friends to be ensnared,” he leaned, “-there might be room for negotiations.”

“Negotiations, what a wonderous word. Please, here are my private details. We’ll speak soon,” the big and the slender pulled to the side. Kul’s gaze pressed.

“Any more pressure and you’ll dig through my head,” he chuckled, “-Syion Edgar of Bright Barnacle Film Company.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a fake name,” he said, “-the man’s a lying sack of meat.”

“This is boring, what about the Order of Nightwalkers? Very anti-climactic.”

“No, not yet,” he stood and threw a heavy gesture at Syion, “-pardon me.”

They stopped, “-I’m sorry but we’re in a rush,” added the slender man, “-if you’d excuse me.”

“No, no, I was talking to Syion. Pardon me, sir, I’m sorry to say, the lass there is my property. I’ve already made a deal for her acquisition, so sorry for the confusion.”

“Made a deal?” he glared at the leader, “-what deal, I made no such deal.”

“I see, perhaps I’m mistaken then. I’m new in town, heard the market for talent was open. You see, I’m here from Alphia, things home is quite the blunder.”

“Alphia?” the little man’s attention piqued, “-where exactly?”

“Odgawoan, where else?” came proudly, “-the city of dreams. Money, sex, and drugs, you ought to love the high-life.”

“You,” the big man scanned top to bottom, “-good,” he smiled with an acknowledging nod, “-I sense good energy from you, brother. Hey, I’m heading to my flat, want to join – I’ve gotten my hand on a pretty dealer.”

“What about your little friend,” he turned, “-he’s looking at me weird.”

“Don’t mind him, the little man has trouble looking up at his seniors,” he snort two loud laughs, “-ey, let’s go, are you not in hurry now?”

“Yes, yes,” came a desperate sigh, “-let’s go, Syion.”

A condescending wave trailed, ‘-what the hell?’ she watched silently, ‘-how could he just leave me...’

“Kul?”

“Ishta?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came with his majesty,” she answered, “-he was right, if you’re here, the Order must be at work?”

“Yeah, we’ve landed quite a fish. An international trafficker. Have tracked him for the worse part of six months with Phantom’s best intel. Goes to show how sneaky the bastard can be,” he suddenly pressed his ear, “-what is it? Wait, are you serious? No, not possible,” he furiously scanned.

“Report came about a strange man joining the target?” she guessed with a tired shake.

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“The strange man,” she held her head, “-it’s the master... he left with the big dude.”

“What in the fu-”

“I know, that’s him,” she stared at the heavens, “-WHY IS HE SO DIFFICULT!”

.....

Meanwhile, her words of plea fell on deaf ears, Igna enjoyed a nice strong drink in the company of an absolute degenerate. He ripped dresses from partially awake ladies as soon as they entered the limousine, the ride was rough on one side, “-who even are you?” said the timid fellow.

“No one particular,” he drank, “-your friend is hung, sure hope the flat doesn’t disappoint.”

A sweaty moan escaped, “-ay, bro, want to hit?”

Igna rose his hand, “-I like ’em tied, not tired.”

“...”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”