One: magic must not be used to kill other mages.
Two: magic must not be used to harm humans.
Three: watch from the shadows, never compromise the guild.
Able broke the first rule. And for all intents and purposes, he intends to break the second and third as well today. What are rules made for if not broken?
Twisting tendrils of lightning hissed and writhed in the air like enraged snakes, hovering above the spot where the High Lord Alpha once stood. All that remained of him now - a miniaturized Mt Everest of ash protruding out of the ground. Small bits and pieces of human flesh are still vaguely visible within the charred pile, cheerily roasting away and choking the colosseum with the stench of burning human flesh.
Lord Beta Able - his formal title, stood a few feet away from the ash spike. He was swathed in an expansive black robe that seemed to sucked in all the light and joy from the surrounding, casting a feeling of dread and despair around him.
The robe was ceremonial. Custom tailored too, of course. No less shall be expected for him, the rising star, the next beacon of greatness of the guild, the genius. But that was all a façade or a masquerade to hide the tails side of the coin. All the effort in order to gain supporters and strengthen his position within the guild, just so that he can build his own yellow brick road to the height of power.
But underneath the veil, those who really knew him would scorn at the mention of his name and describe him as a backhanded fool who suffers from delusions of grandeur, or even as an overeager time bomb that would explode at any given time.
Able removed his hood, exposing his crudely cropped head and deathly pale face to the light. It was once said that eyes are the windows to the soul. If that was ever true, this soul would hardly be recognized as a soul at all, more of a warped demon.
Without fanfare, Able used the back of his hand to flick the sweat beading on his forehead. He adjusted his robe that doesn’t need adjusting and turned his gaze towards the crowd.
All of them had gathered here today in this colosseum to see him die. Right now all of their mouths are frozen in midway holy shit’s or oh my god’s. Mages, supposedly hardened by decades of training and experience to always expect the unexpected. Even they couldn’t foresee this surprising turn of events.
Everyone knew about the late guildmaster’s unparalleled battle prowess, just behind him was Able, who was still leagues away from attaining such magical strength. Alpha Lord Alphonse, the god slayer, they called him in reveration. He was by far the strongest of them all in this generation, albeit a tad diluted by age, but still the strongest. The last mage that had invoked his anger had been quashed like a bug, quite literally. The poor chap was turned into an ant and crushed under Alpha Lord Alphonse’s boot.
Too bad they were disappointed then, might as well put up a splendid show for them, Able thought. The corner of his lips tweaking upwards to form what could be passed as a grin.
Everything went spectacularly according to plan… The old fool didn’t even noticed that he was poisoned.
Magebane, the deadly poison Able had concocted in his laboratory himself. Just as the name suggested, it’s the bane of all mages who ingested it. Tasteless and odorless. It was slow-reacting too, taking exactly 48 hours to react. And when it does, it causes the victim’s magic swell up and run berserk. The victim will then inevitably erupt in a furious magical conflagration that will devour the victim in the matter of seconds, destroying all evidence that there was even any foul play.
To experiment and modify this drug, Able had to test it on living beings with magical abilities, which only left one choice – other mages. Needless to say that there was much gnashing of teeth, but all under the guild’s radar.
The victims of his experiments all disappeared without a trace, God bless their screaming souls. If the guild even knew about the atrocities he committed, even his superior magical abilities wouldn’t save him from the guild’s judgement.
After developing the poison, it had been a small challenge to sneak a drop into the guildmaster’s evening tea at the exact time. Then Able just had to challenge Alphonse’s right to rule and the deal was done.
Only Able could pull off such a stunt that rely so much on impeccable timing and precision.
Ignoring the blistering superheated air that was the result of the late Alpha Lord Alphonse’s magic gone rogue, Able strode towards the spike of ash confidently, with an air of grace, even. There was an object partially buried under what remains of the former guildmaster. Able fished it up.
It was a rosette.
The rosette bore the celebrated crossed triple blades of the guildmaster, Excalibur, Clarent, and Arondight. It was proof of a guildmaster’s power over the guild. It was passed down from one generation of guildmaster’s to another generation’s, either willingly or by force.
It seemed a miracle that the rosette was to survive Alpha Lord Alphonse’s demise. But that was nothing to do with miracles.
The rosette was forged of mythonium. A metal so strong, not even the strongest magic blast could scratch it. So rare, that its existence was a myth, hence the name. How the Ancients managed to mould it into shapes was the mystery of the ages, with the answer taken to the Ancients’s tombs.
Able was sweating profusely in the sweltering heat and his robe clung on to his body like leeches, hungrily sucking the moisture from his body.
Determined not to show weakness in any way, Able pulled his best poker face and addressed the crowd of mages around him. ‘Brothers and sisters of the guild!’ he announced. His voice jolted most mages into alertness, though most of them look as though they do not believing what had transpired just now.
‘I, Beta Lord Able rightfully challenged the late Alpha Lord Alphonse to the right to govern the guild and bested him in mortal combat. Now, as ancient tradition dictates, those who trumps the guildmaster in combat and claims the guild rosette for his own shall take over the leadership as the new guildmaster. That is so, is it not?’ he left the question hanging for the crowd. Some of them murmured among each other while the others just looked downwards, trying not to meet his gaze.
The seconds seemed to stretch by, and it doesn’t seem that the crowd was going to say anything. Able was not satisfied.
‘That is so, is it not?’ this time he directed the question at the judge with ice cold tension.
The judge was a rounded mage which was not very popular among the guild, there was a few snickers from the crowd as he fumbled around awkwardly trying to get the right answers. ‘Ah… Um… Yes, yes, yes. O- of course, your sire.’ The judge stammered. ‘Bu- but first, the- there are procedures tha- that must be followed, t- the body of the fo- former guildmaster mu- must be examined an- and the- there are other pro- procedures to -‘
‘Now, I, as the new Alpha Lord of the guild, have an announcement to make,’ Able who had gotten impatient over the judge’s annoying stuttering cut him off. ‘There will be changes around here. That is certain. Old rules will still be upheld. Discipline will be reinforced. And ultimately, vengeance shall be served…’
Able uttered the last four words deliciously, savouring the way it rolled down his tongue and to the crowd’s ears.
The bait had been cast.
Now, wait for the crowd to bite.
Sure enough, most mages started to stir and eyed him curiously, trying to guess his hidden message.
Now, reel them in real slowly.
Able narrowed his eyebrows and regarded the crowd. His intense gaze swept through each and every one of them. As expected, none of them offered any resistance to what they think he was about to say, just white hot resentment at the mention of their old fued. Some were even goading him with their eyes.
‘I trust all present here remembers the painful scars that the humans had inflicted on us so long ago, yes? A fact that constantly gnawed at our souls,’ he began. The crowd was riding on his tempo now, he had the entire guild playing at the palm of his hands. Time to try something riskier, Able thought.
‘Our late guildmaster, Alpha Lord Alphonse, god bless his soul, was an senile old fool and severely afflicted with stubbornness! So severe was his stubbornness that it was only matched by those guildmasters that was before him! Idiots! Idiots! Idiots! All of them!’ Able shouted, determined to draw everyone’s attention.
The crowds were taken aback. Insultions towards guildmasters whether deceased or not were not common. In fact, some of the guildmaster’s name were even used as swear words, but it was all said privately, never publically. It was unheard of.
It was heresy.
Nevertheless, Able carried on, seemingly oblivious to the death warrant he signed just by desecrating the former guildmaster’s name. ‘All those spineless cowards preach of peace and secrecy, even after innocent blood has been spilt! ON OUR SIDE! We had the means to exact vengeance against the humans during that time. We could’ve crushed them like the inferior degenerates that they were.’ Able slowed down his speech, then in a swift motion, pointed at the pathetic spike of ash on the ground.
‘But no! They! Would rather have us holed up in here while more and more news of our deceased kins reach us! Day after day we hear news of how brutally they are butchered - crucifixed, drowned, rolled in a barrel of spikes, prodded with needles all over, the gruesome list goes on. But worst still, was the fact that they!’ Able’s finger was jerking at the ash pile violently while his voice grew to a crescendo with each spoken syllable.
‘Are we to sit idly by while they slaughter us? We, as keepers of history ourselves, must be well aware of the way history has of repeating itself. Are we still going wait while they come again to finish up their job? I say we take the fight to them!’ The crowd broke into a frenzy and was cheering him on now, Able’s blasphemies the last thing on their minds. Their sense of loyalty was finally outpaced by their anger.
‘Destroy the humans!’
‘Blood begets blood!’
‘Justice must be served!’
‘Stick’em on a stick and burn’em! And then stick’em on a stick again! See how they like that!’
‘Turn them into gummy bears and bite their heads off!’ cried a kid. Tense laughter broke out and the mother hushed the kid.
Able waited for the crowd to calm down before proceeding, ‘Yes, blood shall be spilt once more. This time, it shall be theirs. Rivers shall run red and the ground so drenched in their blood that crops would no longer grow!’ Able formed a fist with his right hand and let it up for all to see.
‘This day, we emerge from the shadows of society that we hid for so long in and strike them where it hurts the most! Here!’ Able pointed to his chest. ‘Let today be the start of a new crusade! A new age of glory!’
The crowd went up in an uproar. ‘Burn!’
‘Tear them limb from limb!’
‘Bite their heads off!” cried the kid again.
Able smiled, he had rolled down a snowball that had grown too big and too gathered too much momentum to be stopped now. That’s fine, he didn’t want it to stop anyway. He’ll see this through the end. Holding the rosette in his right hand, Able turned his back towards the crowd and retreated out of the colosseum, leaving the crowd to chant his name. ‘Able! Able! Able! Able… Able…….. Able……….’
But the racket was lost to his mind as he brooded on his own personal dark thoughts, preparing his next move.
The board is set and the pieces have fallen ever so perfectly into places. Let the games begin.
Pawn to E4.
