Balance of Death Read online

  “How do you fair Aeshma?” Daeva inquires. His excitement to see him well is tempered by the coming conflicts and uncertain events that brought them.

  “I am well Kentro.” Aeshma not wanting to start the discussion.

  “Sit” Daeva stands up and points to the couch as he walks over to his alcohol. “What happened in Egux?” Daeva asks.

  “Lucio had no intent on working with you. As soon as I voiced your request; he reacted as if I had disrespected him, and had his men attack me.” Aeshma replies sitting down at the table in front of the couch.

  “What would give Lucio the confidence to make such a decision?” Deva shares his confusion.

  “I fear Kentro that his pride held greater weight in the decision than his mind.” Aeshma answers with an honest assessment of the man absent ploys of an operative from the clans.

  “Brings me to question how many other men I have miss judged based upon my own inclinations of their nature.” Daeva cryptically shares.

  Daeva’s reply dances with Aeshma’s own loyalty, so he decides to shift the conversation. “What actions are we going to take?” Aeshma quizzes.

  “How did you survive his onslaught?” Daeva’s mind still curious about the past disinterested in discussing the future.

  “I am a very capable warrior Kentro.” Aeshma avoiding too elaborate a ruse inviting holes into his story.

  “Of that I am well aware. I would have thought Lucio wise enough to properly prepare if his intent was to eliminate one of the Kentro’s enforcers.” Daeva seeking further clarity.

  “I believe he underestimated my Soten, and overestimated his vampire’s abilities.” Aeshma smirks. “I would also venture to guess even his men were surprised he chose this path; even if it was discussed as a possible outcome.” Aeshma hoping to soothe further inquiry and add credence to his story by appealing to something Daeva would want to hear.

  “Do you believe some of his men remain loyal to the circle?” Daeva has not been to that territory in some time and has little experience with the men in it.

  “The men amongst him likely not, but I had an interesting conversation with a syndicate leader the night prior to our meeting.” Aeshma says as he massages his beard. An indication of the hardships Aeshma must have faced in the time after the fight with Lucio. As Aeshma is usually clean cut. “Teofil, a syndicate leader, said many of his peers remain loyal to the circle and don’t agree with Lucio’s actions.” Aeshma shares. This pleases Daeva to hear; as he only recently adopted all of the men who serve the circle such loyalty from pure strangers isn’t familiar, but welcomed.

  “Good, well is there anything you’d have me know?” Daeva ready to move forward and begin retaking Lucio’s territory.

  Such a question always resonates within Aeshma. It isn’t in his nature to be so duplicitous. Moreover, from his time in the circle he has developed an amount of loyalty for Daeva. “Just that I wish to be amongst the men who see Lucio’s end.” Aeshma says tightening his eyes.

  Daeva nods recognizing Aeshma’s request. “Our first strike will be a hideout used by one of Lucio’s syndicates. In Nidium just west of the Egux kingdom. There is a town they use as a home base to extort Amnekian credits from the mining industry.”

  “How can you be sure that syndicate is loyal to Lucio?” Aeshma adds.

  “Well if they declare their loyalty to the Kentro the assault will be that much easier.” Jerek answers.

  “Yes well the local syndicates will determine how bloody the coming weeks get.” Daeva shares. Much of Lucio’s power comes from the syndicates in his territory. With only a handful of enforcers and men working directly for Lucio.

  Chapter 9

  Amneka in the region of Thoraza Ruvaen enters the foyer of Azreil’s Thoraza city headquarters: an enormous plot of land suspended above the city through the use of crystal technology. Developed by Azreil and his organization. The foyer is a large circular room with a free-flowing floor plan on both levels. Oval doorways six times the height of any normal man lead into deep hallways. The ceiling rises far above with decorative glass letting in natural light to rain upon the various plants sprawling across the monolithic room.

  Ruvaen is accompanied by two Mystico Black Opsmen. Both wearing signature Biston armor of Ruvaen’s Opsmen. A cloak and hood draped over an overcoat buckled together with magic infused stal clasps. Ruvaen himself wearing a handcrafted coat with a flaring collar down to his waist; his undershirt a handcrafted and intricately woven fabric with flaring collars to match, but buttoned just below his chest; expensive sepia colored trousers draping over the top of his chukka boots.

  Ruvaen expected Azreil to greet him upon entering, as he doesn’t appreciate being made to wait in the foyer; as if his time is less valuable than Azreil’s. He turns to one of his men; “I need you to get some men in Northern Phalyados. If the circle is imploding we need to know about it.” Ruvaen questions.

  “Should we take some resources from the culminations tasks?” Reticus one of Ruvaen’s Opsmen replies. The mystico opsmen have been surveilling the clans, and their movements, while also working with some from the Amnekian college to setup basic infrastructure in the central lands.

  “No, coordinate with Victi. We’ll have to rely on his opsmen. Just tell them it is in connection with crimes in Throaza.” Ruvaen decides to use Victi , the regent of Phalyados’, opsmen. He doesn’t want to pull resources from the culmination, because he is anxious about all the mysteries the central lands hold. Yet, if reports of the circle breaking apart are true. It could mean a return to before the circle, when crime was rampant.

  “Understood Regent.” Reticus with perfect posture and a slight nod downward.

  Ruvaen then notices Azreil walking down a flight of stairs. Curved to the circular structure of the building. Azreil is dressed informally; his wear seems to be more pragmatic and comfortable. An Ochre robe with a memorizing design on it, his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and collar area unfastened exposing a simple tawny shirt. His waist has a garment wrapped around it held by two belts just above his waist. The belts and garment seem to have areas to hold various alchemical items. Around his neck is a necklace with what looks like a small scroll. Wrapped on both ends with pointed stal tips. Various rings on his fingers, and a snake bracelet around his wrist. His facial hair is unkept and his well cut golden copper hair looks hastily prepared.

  As he makes his way over to Ruvaen a woman approaches Azreil and shows him papers. Without stopping they discuss something inaudible from Ruvaen’s distance; before he arrives to Ruvaen the woman concludes and walks away once again. “Ruvaen, come there is much to go over.” Azreil starts with little regard for salutations.

  “Agreed.” Ruvaen following Azreils tempo. Nonetheless, taken aback as he doesn’t seem to be directing them towards some place more appropriate to begin their discussions. As they stand their waiting for Azreil to direct them somewhere. Azreil is adjusting a ring on his finger. Soon Azreil reaches out and puts a hand on Ruvaen’s shoulder. Reticus recognizes the shift in natural energy as a spell, and quickly grabs Azreil’s arm, but before anything else can happen Azreil points his fist into the air. Light traces their body and with a flash they are gone. Leaving only the crystal from Azreil’s ring hovering. Until it eventually bursts into a small flame and nothing is left.

  In an instant all three of them Azreil, Ruvaen, and Reticus are standing in the same pose at a different portion of Azreil’s complex. They stand on a balcony overlooking a huge canal of water with advanced boats filled with crew members as if they are preparing something. The canal spanning east to west with enormous pillars on either size reaching up to a roof that could easily fit buildings inside it.

  Reticus looks to Ruvaen for instruction, with a nod of his head Ruvaen communicates no danger to his opsmen. Reticus turns putting a medallion in his hand and raising it citing a magic spell. A symbol appears before his hand as wind swirls inward in front of him the floor beneath the swirl cracks and with a
final gust his fellow opsmen from the foyer appears before him.

  Azreil and Ruvaen seem to ignore this as they continue. “I have noted that the most effective route given the mountainous terrain to the North will be the waterways. Most of them even the ones to the north stand even wider than my artificial canal here.” Azreil shares his findings with Ruvaen as he leans on the decorative marble railings looking down to his large advanced ships. “I predict the Clerics being a major encumbrance to our efforts.” Azreil speaks frankly disregarding the normal concern one would have when speaking of the clerics in a negative light. The clerics hold unofficial sway with the high council, and most importantly speak directly with Thatos himself.

  “Well as you well know even Amneka’s glory is tethered by the gods.” Ruvaen preaches

  “Would you have this remain the status quo” Azreil challenges knowing of Ruvaen’s deep feelings for Amneka; betting they outweigh his loyalty to Thatos. Ruvaen with surprise, glances back to his opsmen: concluding that this is likely why Azreil attempted to separate them from his opsmen.

  “I didn’t expect you to toss such words so callously. Need I remind you of the god you speak?” Ruvaen responds. Turning his body towards Azreil with confusion trying to understand him better through his actions.

  “I speak of a force shrouded in mystery, and whose mind and power have yet to be assessed by discerning men.” Azreil scoffs looking to the great roof towering far above them. “I know the Amnekian colleges now break for other realms in pursuit of greater knowledge.” Azreil counters.

  “In deals brokered above my station, and with terms I am not privy to.” Ruvaen trying to impress upon Azreil the gravity of what he speaks.

  “Yes, but deals you were the catalyst to.” Azreil returning eye contact with Ruvaen. “It seems you have forgotten that information and knowledge is woven into my very nature.” Azreil mocks.

  “Why mar current conflicts with conversation of such a ridiculous nature?” Ruvaen postures. Azreil looks to his Opsmen a distance behind them; indicating that further conversation should be held absent their presence. “They stand loyal to me, as I stand loyal first to Amneka and its glory second to nothing not even a god.” Ruvaen lectures. Azreil is surprised to hear such things; a cleric would surely take issue with.

  “We once conspired to see the impossible reality, and now we stand in the impossible’s wake: the very building we now speak in-one example of many, power, and Nobel station.” Azreil pauses taking in the moment with the perspective of their past selves looking onto the glorious conclusion of their endeavors. “Well now I make similar proposition one that empirical expectations would overlook, yet we know that one must forge the future with more than just experience.” Azreil concludes. Ruvaen’s expression shifts slightly from ridicule to intrigue.

  In the kingdom of Nidium within the Phalyados region. Daeva’s first target in reclaiming territory from Lucio. The dust kicked up from the movement through the streets fills the air. Hastily crafted buildings make up a small town; a few bars, food markets, and lodgings. Stone buildings packed tightly together with a few roads not enough width for even a carriage; wooden beams and stone archways attached above head between buildings as if the buildings support each other. Most prominent amongst the buildings is a large tavern with a wooden plate over the door bearing the symbol of a radian of the circle-specifically Lucio’s. This will keep most out of vicinity, however, a large group of men approach all wearing hoods with a faded grinning skull inside a bloody red circle: the mark of Daeva.

  As they walk forward the men outside look surprised and rush in; the group of men don’t seem phased as they stream into the tavern. A crowded building stone pillars throughout the bar with archways leading to various sections of the bar all free flowing. You can almost hear the echoes of the merriment that just ended; the silence has the tinge of fear and confusion.

  One of them steps forward pulling her hood back. It is Star with a stare ready to repay some of the pain she has endured; “Any men loyal to the circle step out.” Star commands. As her voice rests upon the room the silence sees a few slink out mostly women. The rest stand up straighter but silent they know what is about to befall them.

  For a moment the air thickens with intent as the last person exits the tavern; a man uses his hand cannon to shoot at the group of Daeva’s men. Star raises her left hand and a chakra shield spirals out from an alchemic bracelet: the blood of a previous victim boils within her releasing his chakra to fuel the shield.

  Star runs forward striking the attacker’s jaw with her other hand. As her fist makes contact a chakra blade stabs out from another alchemic bracelet splitting the man's lower jaw from his skull. As it dangles down the crowd erupts and fighting begins in all directions. Blood splattering against the stone pillars and floor; screams and roars load the air.

  One of Lucio’s men swings. Daeva’s man ducks under the strike then grips the attacker’s hair slamming his head into a pillar and looks him in the face; “proper end to Lucio and all his men.” Daeva’s man sneers before letting out a blast of chakra energy from his hand cannon erupting the man’s skull between the cannon and the pillar sending blood and rubble in one direction throwing his hand backwards from the force. As he stumbles back with rock debris and blood covering his face he roars in exhilaration!

  The fighting continues until slowly Daeva’s men begin to outnumber Lucio’s. Bodies litter the floor as the action simmers. Star sits at the bar pouring alcohol from a broken bottle into a mug, as one of Daeva’s men beats in the face of an incapacitated enemy. The victim’s groans turn to gargle and eventually silent only the sound of his blood splattering left: Daeva’s man doesn’t stop. A brutal example must be made of those who would betray the circle.

  Back in the eastern portion of the Deca kingdom close to the Nidium border a crowd fills the square; each of them bearing radian seals. A rare sight to have hundreds of men working directly for a radian in one place. The citizens avoid the streets and especially the square. They await the arrival of Daeva laughing, yelling, and a few friendly scuffles breaking out here and there. A piercing whistle cuts through the air.

  On top a stage constructed at the center of the square. Daeva walks with confidence from one side of the stage to the other. Eyeing the crowd and asserting his primal dominance. “Brothers! Are you ready to bring death to the door of our enemy!” Daeva commands. The crowd raises their fists and weapons rattling them in the air. Guards ill equipped in such a small town, and barely competent at using their hand cannons take their leave.

  “Lucio will… “ As he begins talking an archer in the crowd streams arrows from his automatic crossbow around his forearm; arrows packed around his arm are automatically loaded allowing him to continue firing. Before the first arrow can reach Daeva one of Asta’s death dealers runs out using her Katana blade to masterfully intercept each arrow. Daeva snarls and tightens his fists, before bolting through the crowd. Trampling anyone in his way until he grabs the face of his attacker lifts him into the air and crashes him into the ground.

  Daeva looks to the crowd now formed in a circle around him. He slowly steps over the archer now dazed trying to collect himself from the concussion. “They fight from the shadows like COWARDS!” Daeva exclaims as the crowd rumbles. “Lucio and his men think because they have coin or proper name they are above us!” Daeva continues the crowd growing in intensity. “There has stood many who believe this so, and there will stand many more!“ Daeva traces the circle around him and the archer entices the crowd. “We shall drown this presumption of superiority in their BLOOD!” the crowd crescendos into a storm of aggression and purpose.

  Daeva grabs the archer by the plate on this chest lifts him up and bites into his neck muscle tearing flesh from him before tossing him bloodied into the crowd to consume. Screams and shouts as blood rains from where the crowd has mobbed around the archer. “Go! Follow your enforcers to school Lucio and his men in our doctrine of DEATH!” Daeva finishes as he lea
ves.

  Chapter 10

  A powerful shockwave rocks the entire room. Asta sits up in a modest bed. Inside the bedroom of a small wooden cabin. She is confused as the sleep wears off of her being. Then abruptly a flurry of wood and debris tears through the room. Decimating the structure and sending Asta flying backward, twisting and contorting with the debris as the shockwave carries them back.

  Unable to catch herself she is thrown into the side of a cliff as the shockwave breaks against it. Asta coughs, dust and blood falls from her mouth. As she lifts herself up her arms shake. She sits back against the cliff and suddenly sharp pain starts to radiate through her originating from her right eye. She lifts up to feel a shard stick into her eye. She screams in pain. The sound travels through the woods and debris. Breathing heavily, she slowly raises her hand to the shard. She quivers as she tears it from her eye socket. With a howl it is out and in her hands. She hangs her head down. Blood drips down.

  A loud snap followed by a colossal thud turns her attention from her wounds back towards the original commotion. She stands, still weakend, her legs barely hold her as she makes her way towards the action. She limps through the woods; battered from the shockwave. Still in her pajamas: a thin tattered fawn top with russet pants.

  She can make out figures in the opening next to where her cabin once stood. She struggles to focus with her one eye. As she does the figures begin to take shape. Drekavak is holding another man in the air by his neck. The other man is wearing ostentatious robes: greenish gold metal lining the ends of the expertly crafted fabric. The robe is torn and ragged even exposing wounds at his chest and arm. There are a couple other men with similar robes laying on the ground around Drekavak.