Fawkes-Pas chapter 31 . Sep 17
Just a query, as you have incorporated "Fringe" elements in the story, will you be including the observers in this story.? Or is it an alternate alternate reality where the fringe characters are there but the elements are not.? - No observers, nope. nope, nope, nope. I can't be arsed to deal with that jumbled up server room cables let alone try and fit that in this story which is already quite dense. lol.
AustinWormLover chapter 32 . Sep 18
Yo, New reader here, love this Trilogy, especially the epic fight scenes(compared to canon)!
Also if it isn't too intrusive, whens the next chapter and how much more to the Halo arc?
Following with the fury of An Exterminatus - Welcome! This story ends at chapter 99. After that, it'll be a little while before I start Halo Canon which will start with a bang. That one will be the most challenging story I write, I think.
Note: If you would like to read ahead, the next chapter is available on discord whilst at least the next three chapters after it are available on P^A^T^R^E^O^N / Boombox117
The NEW discord channel LINK is d^i^s^c^o^r^d^.^g^g^/6^x^8^m^K^V^w^X^
15th of November, 1972 – Illos, Office of Intelligence
Parelius Parkinson POV
Parelius looked on dispassionately at the sight before him as he stood at the top of the oval viewing room, his arms behind his back.
Before him were three floors with three rows of operators sitting in front of screens whilst at the back of the room, there were eleven large Holos that focused on different regions of the world, each of them marking out a number of pale red dots on real-time maps that were getting ever closer to the ground.
The large room that was over fifty metres from the widest points was almost quiet, the sounds of operators communicating with one another across the Comms the only disruptive sound as the maps began to resemble more like top view pictures of forests and mountains and cities.
"Sir, the drones are ETA seven minutes from position." One of the operators stated.
There were only three drones per site, totalling thirty three drones, yet their small numbers were enough to cripple and topple entire muggle nations, even the so called superpowers of the muggle world.
The drones, built and created here on Illos using a combination of Ancient Humanity technology and magi-tech, were equipped with low energy particle beams that could run hotter than Fiendfyre and was focused into a half inch diameter beam and could fire with mystifying accuracy from leagues away.
It could cut through several inch thick plates of steel in seconds, even titanium and, with enough time, through Adamantite itself.
A deadly silent weapon – its momentum engines glided through the air – that could kill anyone and everything and yet it was also a weapon that Parelius knew was at the very low end of what the Ancient Humans had created in the name of war.
Parelius didn't acknowledge the confirmation and only continued to study the maps as the pale red dots grew larger and closer to the central place of the Holos.
Minutes later, the Holos shifted spectrums and before them, on every single main Holo, all eleven Holos, there were hundreds or thousands of heat signatures in the bowels of ancient forts and castles.
The noise within the room was stifled to death at the sight of the almost ten thousand.
For some, the significance of what was happening finally dawned on them. For others, it was impatience to rid of the infestations that had lasted for generations.
But all understood the gravity of the power they wielded.
"Switch to manual." Parelius ordered and one by one, thirty three screens before their operators switched to the cameras installed on the drones.
Holographic control systems flared to life in front of the operators too, whilst another screen beside the main viewing screen noted the locations of every infestation.
The drones had been launched from Illos at the commencement of the operation and set to autopilot, controlled by the central quantum magi-com which effectively was Illos itself with how integrated it was to the sentience that was the country-ship.
Parelius descended down the steps to the second floor of rows and stood behind one of the operators who was commanding one of three drones present in Transylvania.
He peered down to the screen and came to see a looming dreary castle from on high as the drone hovered nearby a window paned with ancient glass before he looked back towards the large Holos, each of them centred nearby the abodes of creatures.
"Begin."
He intoned, a word, his word, that dominated the room like no other and as the last traces of his voice tuned into nothingness, like the sound of the spark of a fuse burning through its lint dying as it approached the chamber of a volatile mixture of explosive potion, what came next was equal in volatility as the room sparked to life.
Pale red dots moved into the castles and forts and mansions, streaks of white hot lines against a back drop of black shone on the Holos, piercing and striking against muted blobs of white that were made ever whiter by the streaks.
Again and again this happened, no matter how fast the muted blobs of white moved and reacted, their fate was as equal as those who'd been caught unawares.
Death and more death. Or as they liked to call it…True Death.
As seconds turned into minutes, some of the muted blobs realised their dire situation and tried to escape but none would as there was nowhere for them to hide, even most the muggles for their heat signature was substantially different and at night, as it was in most of the Old World, there were hardly any peoples in large enough crowds for them to disappear into.
It was only eighteen minutes later that the operation was over.
"Commander Cantona." Parelius called out, the intuitive magi-technological nature of the room immediately understanding his intent and connected him – and his subordinates – to the woman. "It's all clear." Parelius said to Cantona.
"Sir." Cantona acknowledged before he heard her connecting to the other ten squadrons nearby the cleared out abodes and giving the order to clean up. The Holos soon switched to the cameras of respective squadron leaders for each assigned site.
Orbs of light illuminated the dark hallways or passageways as his men and women walked through them, the faint haze of smoke and glow of burnt through stone walls a familiar sight.
His gaze flickered towards one of the Holos where one of the agents picked up a sliced through head by the long hair. The agent lifted the head, its mouth agape and its desiccated face permanently set in painful grimace, and its white teeth with two sharp incisors gleamed beneath the light of the orbs.
The sight brought him grim satisfaction though not an ounce of it showed on his face and instead called out to the squadron leaders to wrap it up as soon as possible.
There were human blood bags in the dungeons in every nest and his people were to fix them up, if they could be fixed up, before obliviating them and destroying every building. There were still well over a hundred other little Vampire hideouts throughout Europe, Asia and Africa that needed to be destroyed, after all, and they knew where most of them were.
Undoubtedly however, this was a good operation.
The extermination of the oldest and most powerful covens that headed up the Elder Council could be called nothing short of good. Six hundred years the Elder Council plagued the magical world.
And within eighteen minutes, they were no more.
Parelius mused to himself about the ruthlessness of history and how fickle legacy truly was, even if the creatures understood only the base idea of legacy given that they were soulless creatures with behaviours worse than that of psychopaths.
Hmm…yes, it was good that they were initiating the eradication of the entire species.
It would bring to an end over a millennium of a cold war with the species and six hundred years of tenuous relations with the Elder Council that the wizarding world neither liked or wanted but had to compromise and accept lest it lead to a war that could devastate both sides grievously, a war that should it have ever become total, was not at all certain that the wizarding world could win outright, no matter what anyone would delude themselves into thinking.
Their speed and their strength and their retained mental faculties made them a dangerous species that, coupled with their inhumanity and ability to infect entire villages and towns within a single night should they so choose, would make it extremely difficult to exterminate completely.
It was a miracle, Parelius mused, that the Vampires disliked procreating beyond a certain number anyway as he was sure that had they utilised that timelessness they were cursed with, the Vampires could have easily overrun both worlds.
He supposed that it likely was an effect of being the apex predators that they were.
In any case, when the Statute was erected, the majority of Ministries paid a blind eye to the Vampires in their territories in return for their collaboration and adherence to the Statute that the ancient Vampire Drakul had agreed to on behalf of his species.
Hunting grounds were marked out, rules of how and where they could hunt agreed and for two hundred years, those rules had been agreed to.
Ever since then, until the involvement of the Drakul Coven and its allies in the Grindelwald war, wizarding-vampire relations were nearly non-existent beyond the few peripheral covens that involved themselves with Dark Lords in return for power.
Until almost decade ago when all of the treaties were rendered asunder.
Until the Elder Council threw in their hats with the Ravenites in return for absolving of the rules that they'd adhered to for centuries. A consequence that had seen reporting of mysterious disappearances in Europe and Asia, though to a much lesser extent, skyrocket to frightening levels.
So much so that it helped create an aura of tension and fear that chewed on the fragile peace that already was teetering on ruin in the mundane world.
None of the mundanes, or their governments even if the suppressed the disappearances as much as possible, knew who was making people disappear for there were no patterns…no discernible connections that connected the victims. It was as if anyone, at any time, could disappear and that created a fear all of its own.
The King had said that, in time, it would have led to the main avenues for the mundanes to investigate and it would have been the contributing factor for the fraying of the Statute. As it was, their sooner-than-expected intervention would make it simmer away and the mystery forgotten for decades to come.
Parelius and his operators watched as each of the strongholds were burnt down or imploded into itself, forever removing centuries long evidence of vampires.
"Sir. Mission is complete. Permission to immediately hunt down the smaller covens and strongholds in the surrounding areas?" Cantona requested.
The Vampires hadn't completely lost their connection as former humans and similarly created satellite communities around the most powerful covens, like how mundanes and wizards would create villages around important centres of society.
Parelius narrowed his eyes slightly at the brazen request.
It was always the plan to hunt down the Vampires but with the very clear message from the Far-Seers that it was quite likely that Cullaica's artefacts were amongst the Vampires, the powerful piercing curse enchantments layered onto items like guns or bracelets and so on, he'd been…cautious not to allow his agents to go into situations without there being certainty that the threat of death was minimal.
It was why he, the Monarchs and the High Council decided to carry out the bulk of destruction via the drones instead, a good decision it turned out as there were certainly a number of enchanted artefacts at each site.
He could refuse but he knew Cantona of her…unique perspective well enough that she'd take the refusal personally even if she'd unfailingly obey. Very well, he decided. He'd grant the boon.
"Granted." Parelius stated after a moment's pause before he glanced backward towards the observatory at the top where Cato was. Cato saw him look and nodded before retreating away.
It was unlikely, he calculated, the smaller, weaker concentration of younger Vampires would have been granted weapons that could pose a threat even to Coven Elders.
Even if they did, somehow, possess enchanted weapons that could pierce through the armours, his agents were competent enough to deal with the problems with minimal injury. He'd not lost an agent in his tenure and everyone knew that he'd resurrect them if only to chastise them for the blemish on his record.
He'd left the room not long after and settled into his office where he'd begun to review the next missions that were to begin, like the missions of sweeping up the hiding Ravenites that Cullaica embedded all across Europe or the missions to encourage influential members of more isolated Ministries of Magic to sign up the coming Federation, a far more aggressive policy than had been the original plan.
The King had not explained what initiated his…change in behaviour and the sudden movement to action but he could read between the lines that it was certainly something to do with his…unique foresight.
Hmm…He'd not pressed to learn what he'd experienced…out there. He was quite certain that he'd only get shallow answers that would not satisfy him so it was best to let it go.
Besides, there was much to be done anyway instead of consuming oneself about the sudden change in direction and reduced timescales, especially with the importance that the King and Queen had placed on the Milanese Trials.
'A fact finding mission to begin an era of true cooperation' the King had said.
Parelius knew when the King had said that, that it was intended to be much more than that. After all, the Ravenites were the direct product of the former war, a continuation of a cycle of violence that the trials were meant to throw in the faces of the entire magical world.
Fear and realisation would be the primary reactions along with recognition of the need a true concerted effort to prevent another tragedy like the Raven and Cullaica and what better way than for the Federation to be the medium to drive that effort?
It was hours afterwards, at the brink of dawn, that his door opened. He glanced upward slightly and saw Cato stepping in. "Sir." Cato greeted.
"Cato." Parelius acknowledged but there was a note of question in his voice.
"Just wanted to let you know that most of Europe and North Africa have been cleared of Vampires." Cato said plainly as the dark-haired man sat into the opposing seat.
Parelius placed his holo-tablet and looked at the young man fully.
Cato added with a faint grin "Even Casablanca" he said with a proud lilt to his voice.
Casablanca had a significant infection of Vampires, one that was strangely different to how Vampires typically banded together. Almost forty multi-century Vampires ruled the city from the shadows, promising immortality to highly placed Mundanes in exchange for almost completely free choice of whom they could feed on.
With such close proximity and collaboration with the Mundanes, these Vampires were also more…modern when it came to the understanding of the mundane world.
Hearing that the mission to wipe them out went perfectly was satisfying.
Parelius nodded slightly.
"What holdouts remain?" he asked his protégé.
"The Arctic Belt Vampires. Istanbul. A few more communities in the East and in the Near East." Cato answered before leaning back and checking the time.
"Cantona and the other commanders are apprised of them."
Parelius hummed. "She'll hunt them down before returning."
Cato looked up to him and inclined his head though his expression was one of amusement. Amusement of how predictable she was when it came to things related to Vampires.
'Pathologically hateful' Cato once described her when it came to Vampires.
"Are you ready to handle New World Vampires next?" Parelius calmly asked.
There were a few Vampire covens that left the Old World during the age of colonisation, most of the immigration happening in the 17th century.
Whilst the Magical world was aware of other magical communities across the Pond, the details were scarcely available to the wider public. Only the nobility had much information back then since they were heavily entwined with the muggle nobility and Kings in some fashion or another.
The Blacks were a prime example.
He wasn't sure how the Vampires had gotten hold of the information, it was clear that the first wave of migration of Vampires had happened because of the information leaked by the magical nobility.
Information that spoke of mages that still used staves and other foci that did not have the precision nor the spell repertoire that Roman influenced Europe and Africa had access to.
Of course, that didn't mean that the Aztec mages or the Incan mages or the other Native American mages were weak. Something the Vampires had discovered all on their own in time.
Still, the Vampires had more or less thrived in those environments and now there were several dozen major and minor covens that dotted the New World.
With the mess the Mundane side of the world was, the Statute was hardly ever threatened in those countries. Ministries and other such organisations of magical peoples turned a blind eye to the affairs of Vampires and as such, what was known about the Vampiric community in Central and Southern America was minimal.
Cato lost his smile and seriousness overtook him. "I am sir and I have picked the agents for it." Cato paused as he eyed Parelius cautiously. "South and Central America will be challenging but easy enough, all things considered. MACUSA however…"
Hmm. An irritation that they'd purposefully left last to deal with.
Whilst MACUSA was far from a pro-Vampiric nation, they did have relatively decent relations with the Vampire crowd there. It did help that the Native American Shifters hated the creatures with a passion and went out of their way to control the population any time they were given leave …or if they trespassed on their lands.
Nevertheless, the Americans would not look kindly on committing 'genocide' on their lands and naturally would be a stumbling block in coaxing the stubborn country into falling into line.
The problem was…should those American covens discover the annihilation of their brethren too soon, it could kick off unpleasant series of events that would make things more…difficult and messy.
A beep on Cato's magi-com bracelet brought him back to the present and he eyed it momentarily before he answered.
"Go see the Far-Seers and get their advice." Parelius said to Cato.
They were operating on a rough plan, most of the time, received from the King and the Far-Seers. They'd go to them at times to seek best course of action whilst at times they'd get orders or suggestions of what they should do. The entwining of Divination and the Office of Intelligence was almost symbiotic at this stage.
Cato's expression morphed into a state of blankness before he nodded gently.
"Of course sir." Cato answered dutifully.
Parelius ignored the disappointing flaw in his protégé and eyed the bracelet.
Cato caught the look and raised it. "The morning news." Cato explained before adding "I set a reminder to watch it. After all, it'll be a pretty good one." Cato said as he flicked at his bracelet and a holo popped up before floating towards Parelius' right.
Parelius didn't speak out but did lean back in his chair. He did forget that the news of Cullaica's defeat would make it on this morning's news.
Normally, he wouldn't have bothered but with the segment of interviewing people on their way to work was admittedly a captivating part of the news.
It was a pulse, of a sort, on the perception of the public of what was happening and he was curious to see how much of an impact the Queen defeating Cullaica would mean to the people of Illos.
The opening theme music and the news logo faded away and revealed the sight of O'Hara, a rather beautiful auburn haired woman, and Syracuse, a dark skinned young man who was a rising star from what he'd seen reported within the news organisation.
The banner of breaking news was splashed across the front of the desk.
"Good Morning.
[LOH] I am Lara O'Hara.
[BS] I am Brian Syracuse and this is the morning IBC One World Service News.
[LOH] The war against the Ravenites has reached a momentous point on the 14th of November with the defeat of Cullaica at hands of her Majesty, the Queen.
[BS] This comes after a gruelling chase after the infamous Dark Lord and his followers across Mundane Europe as they sought burn down cities…"
The next few minutes were merely further recap of the Morning War – a term coined by the Daily Prophet editor-in-chief since the war was looking to be one of the shortest in history – along with commentary about the close calls of the Statute of Secrecy before the meat of the news.
Commuters and random bystanders were interviewed and informed about the victory the Queen won for Illos, and satisfaction and cheer were universal amongst the sleepy morning travellers.
"It almost makes my cold heart melt." Cato amusingly enthused over one of the interviews. "Nationalistic cheer about defeating the villain and stopping a irreversible breach in the Statute of Secrecy will do that I suppose."
Parelius levelled a look to his protégé and the young man met it readily even as he held up his hands in defeat. The young man tended to get too comfortable around him at times and made little flavourless jibes and remarks that didn't need to be voiced out.
It was more or less an open secret within the upper echelons of the OI that the High Council were gearing up to increase pressure on the Magical World when it came to the Statute of Secrecy. There were exactly two mission ongoing at present to do exactly this as well and in time, this would undoubtedly increase with what the King and Queen disclosed to him.
He could easily cut the irritating quality out of the boy but oddly he liked this side of his protégé…unfortunately.
Parelius sighed silently before he waved his hand at the Holo, ending the display before levelling another look at the young man. He slid the Holo-tablet forward towards him and Cato looked on curiously for a second before picking it up.
"A little side assignment." Parelius told the young man.
Cato glanced at him momentarily with a knowing look in his eyes before he started to read it. Parelius leaned back in his chair and watched the young man who was getting ever more engrossed in the document.
Cato whistled. "A little side assignment?" Cato said wryly as he looked at Parelius.
"If you think you can't juggle it with the infestation…"
Cato raised his eyebrow before flatly answering "I'll manage" he said as he raised the tablet slightly and Parelius nodded his assent for the boy to take it with him.
"Good." Parelius said before picking up another tablet by his side and began to read once more, picking up where he'd left behind, dismissing Cato without another word. Cato understood the act for what it was and stood up.
"Sir." Cato said with a nod before leaving Parelius once more to his lonesome.
-Break-
16th of November, 1972 – MACUSA
Spencer Greenrake POV
He threw the report onto the desk, though the heaviness of the report made by the attache of aurors he'd sent to France to observe proved difficult to fully pull his gaze away from.
Somehow though, he managed and coolly looked up and stared at his cabinet staff.
"How is it that we continue to be caught off-guard?" Spencer said in a forced calm.
In a month alone, the Illosians managed to sweep across Asia and Europe with a tenacity and efficiency that was unheard of and systematically disbanded the Ravenite tyrannical and frankly evil organisation with ruthless drive.
He'd actually say that it was commendable if it weren't for the fact that it utterly highlighted the dangerous competency of the Illosians that was changing the very rules of the magical world.
And if the reports were right, they were doing it with minimal casualties.
On both sides.
'When haven't they changed the rules of the game?' Spencer thought mirthlessly as images of magi-tech and country-ships and journeys through the void passed through the forefront of his mind, all things that MACUSA could only create cheap knockoffs of.
He forcefully shook away those thoughts and returned to the problem at hand.
The Ravenites had built up a force of thousands, a force, an army that was larger than Grindelwald's had been at the height of his power and that war took over three years to end when it did begin…officially.
Europe was all but under their tyrannical grip with only a few beacons of hope.
China had been overwhelmed and subjugated.
The ICW, even if they were a shadow of what they once were, were all but shattered and he'd needed to send volunteers to fight with their remaining forces lest Alexandria be completely lost. Had it not been for Dembe Habe's involvement, he might have well been forced to fully intervene in the war against the Ravenites.
He'd known it would have been inevitable. The volunteers he'd sent after gaining so many concessions were always only to be prelude. MACUSA was not blind to the kinds of monsters the Ravenites were. No…
Peace…with the likes of the Ravenites was a pipedream, regardless of the Ravenites abidance of the Statute of Secrecy that most Ministries around the world clung on as a reason for avoiding the evil that was the Ravenites, but he'd hoped that when it did come, it would come with the involvement of the Grand Alliance who'd been deathly silent on the problem of the Ravenites…until they weren't.
Well, mostly one of them.
He leaned back in his chair and let off a silent sigh as his staff looked at each other like the imbeciles that they were. Merlin, why did he have to appoint such lickspittles? Right. Because Illos wasn't the only place where the reach of the Sayres was. He shook his head internally. "Well?" he demanded gruffly.
"Sir...the only explanation we have is that their…King" Emmett Muldrew said carefully before continuing "is using his talents to win the war quickly."
Spencer gave his Head of the Defence department an acidic glare. "It's not him personally that has been steamrolling through the Ravenites, now is it?"
Even if the Sayre King could See everything to that devastating level and accuracy – and wasn't that idea peachy? – he is but one man, however Merlin-esque he was.
MACUSA had long accepted that facet about the man and short of kidnapping the American Sayres and their descendants and squeezing out how in Merlin's name he does it, something not even their own Masters of the Divination Arts and Unspeakables can figure out, there was little they could do about his Sight.
And no one needed to spell it out how much of a bad idea such an act would be.
No, what concerned him was the number of troops Illos had and how well they operated as a unit and how they were equipped. It was almost No-Maj like, the way they operated and fought the war. He'd seen older pictures of their armour during the ICW Stand-Off back in the early fifties but it was clear that they made a number of improvements over the decades.
For Merlin's sake, they could fly unaided! As if it wasn't bad enough that the Illosians were leaders in the development of flying crafts but now their army weren't constrained to the ground?
He sighed as he washed his hand across his face. Really, he wasn't at all displeased that Illos brought down its strength against the Ravenites.
If anything, he was relieved.
He'd fought in the Grindelwald war. In the Ukraine, Russia and in Austria.
He hadn't been at the Western Front where Grindelwald had been but the Eastern Front had been hell on Earth for much of it. He'd lost friends in that damned war and he still sported dull aches from long-healed wounds that would be with him for the rest of his life. His expression darkened slightly at the remembrance of it all.
He had no wish to subject any more good American wizards and witches to such a devastating war…especially when they were right up against it with two Archmages!
And no damned war with even one of them amongst the enemy could be won without having one of their own. History had told him that. So did experience. He'd heard the stories from the men that had been there when Grindelwald and Sayre had fought.
The way their voices were filled with awe and fear…
He shook his head internally. No, he was relieved that Illos and the Sayres were involved and at least one of the leading evil bastards was dead and the other one would soon enough be as well if he wasn't already. Hopefully painfully too.
Still, however relieved he was that MACUSA didn't need to get involved, he was almost equally dreading the way it was being won.
That Illos was strong…no one had any doubts or delusions about that. With the Sayres leading their people and the capable people they surrounded themselves with, nothing else could have been expected.
But it mattered how much stronger they really were. He had little doubt that what they'd observed thus far was far from their full capacity to war.
Their population was almost on par with MACUSA now and magi-tech was as embraced as it was in Illos but, as much as he hated to admit it, he feared that was really where the similarities ended…where the friendly rivalry ended.
He'd never been to Illos but his aides and ambassadors have been and he'd seen the images of their gleaming city and read the reports of their society.
And so had the rest of the magical world and it was doubtless that it was all very much very genuine. A practical Atlantis in the skies and Aziza and Ame-No-Ukihashi were much the same. In all three country-ships, the development and the freedom their people had was beyond anything MACUSA had the privilege to experience and many other magical nations of the world were much the same.
And it reflected in the soft power that Illos used. Their magi-tech, their ideals and their very culture was more and more adopted by the rest of the world.
And so were the American public.
The friendly rivalry that MACUSA carefully seeped into the public was the major dam that prevented the public of speaking Illosian Latin as a second language.
…An exaggeration perhaps but the trend was leading towards it.
It was why accomplishments such as MACUSA reaching the moon was so important. An accomplishment such as that which made his and his colleagues' work all the much easier in stemming the dominating influence Illos and their Grand Alliance had on his country.
But he wondered...with the war being won in the way it was being won, with overwhelming might? Spencer knew very well that the soft power they possessed now would skyrocket.
Especially with Queen Emily personally defeating Cullaica, a very real bogeyman that scared people more than Grindelwald ever did with his revolutionary radicalism.
When, not if, Spencer assessed grimly, King Atticus Sayre defeats the Raven, a second Dark Lord that no one in history could claim to have accomplished, their leadership will be beyond questionable for many people across Europe and most probably across vast swathes across the magical world.
Economic ties was one thing. Addicting cultural inventions and trends, another.
But a moral victory like this?
Their many years long silence on the ICW pleas will be forgotten in the haze of exhilaration. As would the point about the blind eye they turned to the suffering of those under Ravenite control. And he doubted it would win him many supporters if he tried to highlight all of that.
"No sir." Muldrew said subdued and with a grimace as he rubbed at his forehead.
Spencer turned towards his Chief Unspeakable with a question in his face, one that Lionel Picquery understood. He'd invited the man to this meeting just so he'd could answer questions like this. "From what we're able to surmise, the magical armour they utilise is enchanted similar to how the Old Families on the continent used to enchant their golems." Picquery paused. "Of course, that is where the similarities end. It is clear that they've further made significant leaps in developing magi-tech."
"You mean to imply that the individual skill of the wizard or witch is unimportant?" Spencer questioned with a frown as he thought it over.
Picquery nodding slightly. "We believe that the armour enhances reaction time of the user and with that enhancement, compensates for individual…weaknesses."
Spencer thinned his lips.
Such armour would be a game changer. As much as personal skill and strength in magic was important, speed and reaction time was far more important. What did power mean if you could never pin your opponent? Or skill if your opponent could simply fly away or dodge inhumanely fast?
"Of course" Picquery continued as he placed his hands into his lap. "It is not the only…characteristics we've observed the armour to have. Beyond flight."
"I expect a report within forty-eight hours." Spencer said with a fixed look.
If they could replicate the armour, it could just very well be something that
Picquery inclined his head. "You'll have it within the day, Mr President."
Spencer scoffed internally. No doubt the damn clever bastards were already working on something similar. Would be just like them to have a prototype ready without informing him.
After the meeting with his cabinet staff ended, he was left alone with his Vice President, James Greenleaf who brought him a glass of '19 Firewhiskey.
He almost swiped the glass from the man's hands and drank it like a man parched.
"Spencer" James called out and Spencer closed his eyes momentarily before reopening and meeting the gaze of his Vice-President with an icy look.
Neither of them said anything for a few moments before Spencer sighed and slumped in his chair. "I know, I know" he said tiredly with a wave of the hand.
He looked down at his glass that he allowed to swirl in his hands, a swirling of liquids that matched the swirls of his thoughts within his tired brain.
"It's time." Spencer said with a grim smile when he looked up to James who matched his grim smile. James was a veteran politician, a man who served as a Senator for over five decades and lived for over ten decades.
He'd won his Presidency almost as much because of James as because of himself and his mandate to office. A mandate that spoke of competing and outdoing the Illosians. If there was one thing the No-Majs and wizards had in common, it was national pride.
But it was no longer worth it anymore. To stand alone against the tsunami that they could foresee hitting the magical world with the ICW destroyed as it was.
"I wonder if our successors will forgive us for it." Spencer mused out as he drank another finger of his drink. Merlin, was it good, he thought blissfully.
"I doubt they'll care overly much." James answered calmly and Spencer turned to look to the man. James expanded "Emily Rappaport left a huge legacy, one that still affects to this day and we work around it."
"So it will become merely a fact of life that we toe the line to the will of Illos?" Spencer said dryly and not without a faint amount of bitterness.
"The offer the Grand Alliance has given us hardly makes us a vassal state." James said reproachfully. Spencer grumbled before he drank another finger.
The Grand Alliance offered to create a country-ship for MACUSA, one that was larger than New York itself and would be on par on size with Aziza.
Which could millions of homes and leave plenty of nature reserves to spare!
Try as they might, they'd not been able to replicate the kinds of magic that lift a significant portion of a landmass into the air, let alone sustaining it or even flying it.
Oh, they'd made success over the years, naturally, but managing to lift and sustain tonnes of mass proved to be hugely demanding on the wardstones.
To lift even a small town would require a matrix of five foot 144 wardstones and the slightest disruption in the links between the wardstones would cause catastrophic failure. Too expensive. Too risky. Too little benefit.
"No but it spells the end of MACUSA as an independent entity." Spencer stated.
James acknowledged the point with an incline of the head.
A few weeks ago, the Grand Alliance offered to make MACUSA a country-ship and in return would require his country to integrate into the web of alliances that the Grand Alliance has created which Illos would remain a leading nation of.
With how deep economic ties were with the Grand Alliance, especially with the alchemic resources Illos provided to MACUSA, refusing was becoming a difficult prospect, especially since on paper it looked like it would only be positives all the way. But things rarely were handed out this freely.
"With the end of the ICW fast approaching and the obvious moves the Grand Alliance is making in being the successor to wizarding cooperation, it becomes difficult to be the one nation to refuse it." James said sympathetically.
"We could still go it alone." Spencer said firmly as he gave a firm look.
"We could." James agreed before he drank of his firewhiskey. "But we both know that it will be a grave mistake." James said to him knowingly.
Yes…it would be as much as he hated to admit it. The Grand Alliance were a powerhouse that was dead set in creating a truly intertwined magical world with Illos leading the charge to absorb community after community.
They could survive…perhaps even thrive if they left themselves isolated from this new look magical world, one that would be more unified than any point in history save for perhaps since the times of Atlantis – and wasn't that another red herring – but there would be insecurity and danger in such a course of action.
The ICW, for all of the mistakes that it did, did truly create a stable political environment where discourse and disagreement could be aired out.
Wars between nations were rendered practically non-existent…save for the Dark Lords and the like. Not only that, cooperation to safeguard the magical world had been at an all time high, however corrupt it may have been.
Even when MACUSA left the ICW, it never left the agreements that it bound itself to and there was good reason for that. With the Grand Alliance picking up the slack...
Yes…to be outside such an organisation that would swallow whole the magical world would be fraught with uncertainty. Even for MACUSA.
James continued "Plus, if we want to influential in this new age…"
"We'll have to be adaptive." Spencer said with a grim smile.
James smiled at Spencer. "Quite. Besides. It's not as if all of our people will move to the country-ship" Which was quite true, Spencer thought to himself.
The allure of using magic freely is of course tantalising to anyone, be they poor or rich, however there is a deep connection to the land. Legacies were built here.
Homes that were centuries old were cherished and as important as those manors on the Old World.
No one would freely abandon everything so soon.
Spencer sat up and placed his glass onto the desk and met the gaze of his Vice President. Very well. He still had two years of his first term and if he played it right, he'd get another term. And, if he also played right their admission to the Grand Alliance, he'd set the stage for the prosperity of MACUSA all whilst having the best of both worlds.
James saw the look on his face and the aged skin around his eyes wrinkled as he smiled faintly before sitting up straight. Their discussions would last throughout the night.
-Break-
16th of November, 1972 – Alexandria, Magical Quarter
Dembe Habe POV
He waded through the silent streets as he made his way to the part where Dembe was told he'd be. His head twisted around, facing his back and his gaze filled with the sight of the armoured mages of Illos amidst the few ICW Aurors, Americans and his men from Aziza.
With most of Europe and Asia free once more from Ravenite hands, there was a congregation of the Allies…if one could call this congregation Allies.
More fitting to call it people with converging interests, he thought to himself with grunt before he shook his head and turned the corner of the street.
He found Atticus standing in one of the streets of the Magical Quarter.
The streets were empty and the stands that the Quarter had once been famous for were gone. Still, he mused, there were hints that remained. Odd houses that captured the eyes, houses that neighboured one another despite them looking like they belonged to different cultures and peoples.
As he made his way to Atticus, with quiet pondering, he wondered if these homes would be filled once more. A wondering that perhaps was pointless, he mused to himself as he came to a stop by Atticus who seemed to be deep in thought.
For a moment, he merely looked at the man…truly looked. There was a serenity around that seemed impossible. A kind of serenity that chained the storms of magic that he could sense within the man.
"King Atticus." Dembe greeted with an incline of the head. The man had given leave to address him by his first name but he never felt comfortable in doing so.
Atticus acknowledged him with a slight turn of the head before he spoke "The last time I visited this place in Alexandria, it had been just before my presentation to the Charms Guild." Atticus said with a fond note in his voice as he touched one of the stalls.
"Emily had been haggling with one of the merchants for a tome on Egyptian wards." Atticus said with his lips curling upwards slightly. "The tome had already been undervalued by the merchant and in the end Emily got it for three-fifths of the price."
Dembe smiled, memories of his own haggling at the markets back home coming to the forefront. It was kind of a dance, really, one that merchants would deny liking but everyone knew that the merchants loved it.
"How old were you?" Dembe asked curiously as he returned to the present and deciding to carry on the conversation.
"Sixteen." Atticus said with a smile as he turned towards Dembe. The smile seemed to lose strength as he continued. "Simpler times." Atticus said before adding as he turned away from Dembe and back towards the streets. "In a certain way, I suppose."
"Certain way?" Dembe asked curiously. He'd known the man for a long time but never really talked to the man about his childhood. Well, at least when it came to anything other than what subjects and branches of magic he'd studied.
Come to think of it, most of their interactions had been about Dembe's education and improvement in magic until later on when he'd duel with Atticus or Emily once in a blue moon though even then, Dembe knew that it largely to accommodate him – and his father who Atticus was friendly acquaintances with – than anything else.
"The war with Grindelwald had cast a long shadow over my family, Dembe. I was not a Lord nor was I King. Just a boy who walked down uncertain roads with many ideas and many plans to deal with the obstacles before him, headstrong, stubborn and at times incredibly arrogant." Atticus smiled faintly as he looked up into the skies. "At the time, the obstacles felt insurmountable. But now…"
"I suppose one's problems always do feel larger than they are as a young man."
There was a momentary lull as Dembe reflected on his words, words that bore similarities to something his own father, Ghezo Habe, once told him when he felt the pressure of being the Archmage of the coming age for his people.
He shook those thoughts away and glanced at the seemingly forever youthful man, his eyes studying the man intently as he thought on the situation on hand. The war was nearly over now. The majority of the Ravenites were captured in that strange alchemic concoction and Cullaica was dead all in the space of a month.
Only the rats remained along with the Raven who was in flight but he did not have any doubts that it was problems that were on the precipice of being resolved.
He did not know what suddenly made him and Illos change their path.
For years, they'd remained silent on the issue of the Ravenites and thus so did Aziza and Ame-No-Ukihashi. The atrocities committed in China were no different than the atrocities committed in Eastern Europe or the wiping out of entire noble families.
And the only correlation he could think of was whatever happened in the so called Ruins of Atlantis that there was startling little information on. A feeling of irritation washed over him as he remembered asking the Chiefs about it who only offered him platitudes and heavy silence.
They knew more about it but would not divulge anything to him despite the fact he was to lead their people with time. For all their expectations of him, there was never enough that he could accomplish before they'd look past his youth.
He shook his head after he closed his eyes momentarily. He let himself wash away the irritation and he reopened his brown eyes and saw Atticus look at him curiously.
"You seem troubled." Atticus merely stated as he turned slightly and gestured Dembe to walk with him. Dembe remained still for a moment, his eyes carefully looking at the silent guards that were never too far away before he decided.
"Why now?" Dembe asked plainly as he walked, however unsure he was if he'd get a straight answer. He had difficulties figuring out the man, and had done so for many years. When he thought he understood the man, he'd do something entirely different than his expectations, just like how they joined the war against the Ravenites.
"I presume you're not talking about why I am asking you to walk with me?" Atticus said with amusement colouring his expression.
Dembe gave him a look and expanded "Why did Illos…you…decide to stop the Ravenites now when you could have done so earlier?"
Atticus lost the look of amusement as he looked forward, towards the ICW building.
"Sometimes I forget that you were born in peace. Born without the cloud of war hanging over your head." Atticus said, causing Dembe to frown.
Before Dembe could speak however, Atticus continued. "The Ravenites were, of course, a terrible infection across much of Europe. But they were not an infection that the Grand Alliance had cause to deal with."
"I understand that." Dembe returned "It is the same excuse that the Chiefs gave me. It is hollow." Dembe rebuked. "Especially now when you have intervened."
Atticus stopped and turned to Dembe. "Hollow?" he questioned.
"Yes, hollow. Thousands of wizards and witches were killed, butchered and if the rumours are right, many had their minds warped! I do not doubt that you knew this." Dembe said pointedly, on the verge of accusation but just about managed to refrain from crossing that line.
He continued "Their suffering was ignored for years when it should not have!"
"And what right did we have to act as policemen of the magical world?" Atticus responded to Dembe, his head slightly turned as his vivid eyes bored into him. His tone was curious rather than responsive, as if humouring Dembe.
Atticus continued "What right do we have to choose what is a legitimate government and what is not, what right do we have to make war against an entity that had done no ill towards us or our people?" Atticus said as his eyes searched Dembe's face.
"Yet it is a right, a right you claim you do not have, you exercised now." Dembe returned as he met Atticus' gaze.
Atticus' expression softening before he turned away and began to walk again. Dembe clenched his jaw slightly but followed. Silence reigned for a few moments before Atticus broke it. "Do you believe responsibility is universal?" Atticus asked.
Dembe looked at him for a long few moments before he answered. "It can be" he said before adding "It depends on what and to whom the responsibility entails."
Atticus smiled faintly before he nodded without looking at Dembe. "A good answer." Atticus placed his arms behind his back. "And it also answers your own questions about why now and why not back then." Atticus glanced at Dembe.
"The ICW held supreme responsibility for the magical world. Their mandate extended beyond keeping the Statute of Secrecy intact. It is what they decided and so it was" Atticus turned his gaze towards the ICW building.
"It was their self-ordained responsibility to deal with the major threats to the magical world and the Ravenites had been one of them. They failed spectacularly."
"We turned away their requests for assistance." Dembe pointed out.
"We did. We had a right to. Just as any other magical nation had a right to." Atticus glanced at Dembe with a frown on his face. "You don't understand why we refused, do you?" Atticus asked him, the tone of his voice more surprised than anything.
"You refused because of the history you had with the ICW. And my people in the Alliance followed your lead" Dembe answered with narrowed eyes. "I can understand it…they wronged you but it should have been put to the side."
Atticus stopped in his walk and turned towards Dembe. He stiffened, not because of fear or wariness that he might have gone too far but because of the look that was on Atticus' face. It was one of pity.
His fingers twitched in reflex and the guards' armour clinked in response.
If Atticus noticed it, he didn't react to it a single bit as he spoke. "I'm not so petty to hold hostage the magical world because of slights" he said with a raised eyebrow, not at all offended at what Dembe said to him. Or his reflexive reactions
"I'm disappointed to hear you think that of me however." Atticus said with a shaking head before he began to walk again. Dembe clenched his teeth slightly before he followed.
"I do not think you petty." Dembe admitted to the man.
If anything, Dembe did admire and respect the man. Immensely Not only for his power but also his genuine devotion to his people and that of Dembe's own. It would not be a lie to say that Atticus was a great man as well as a great mage.
It was simply that he'd been disappointed that he didn't live up to the stories he'd heard about the man. The righteous, virtuous man that stood up against the wicked.
"I'm glad to hear that at least" Atticus said with a faint smile as he glanced at Dembe before losing it quickly "And as to why we refused…it is rather simple actually."
Atticus let off a weary sigh before he looked up towards the skies.
"It is an endless cycle, Dembe. This constant rise and fall and rise of Dark Lords. The simple truth is that I saw no reason to involve my people, our people, in a conflict that would only result in a pause of the repeating cycle the magical world was caught in." Dembe frowned at that.
"This was different."
"Was it really?" Atticus posed with a sceptical tone.
"The Raven and Cullaica preyed on the insecurities of the nobility. Using their ridiculous hatred of squibborns – amongst many, many other such hatreds and ignorance and undue perceptions – to twist them into servitude. Many of the Ministries turned a blind eye to the murder of thousands of squibborns and squibs whilst the Ravenites grew in numbers." Atticus pursed his lips before he added.
"The ICW knew of their crimes yet they did nothing. Only when they began to overthrow the Ministries from within and without, did they begin to act and begin dialogue with the Grand Alliance."
Dembe said nothing for a moment as he frowned heavily.
Atticus continued "Where would it end, Dembe, had we intervened then? Or even before that point as we would have done had it been our responsibility?"
"It wouldn't." Dembe responded as he met Atticus' eyes, understanding beckoning to the forefront of his mind.
Atticus nodded gravely. "It wouldn't. And we would have been expected to act in the future. To deal with Dark Lords. Again and again." He paused as he eyed Dembe.
"But we would have been without the authority to truly make the changes we needed to prevent such risings from happening in the first place. We would have been expected to restore Ministries. Restore societies. And not implement the changes those communities so desperately needed and needed to accept."
Dembe thought it over and he couldn't help but let a sceptical sigh.
"So what's changed?"
"Nothing much." Atticus said with a soft chuckle before humming. "Everything."
Dembe raised an eyebrow at the answer.
Atticus glanced at him with a faint smile before he lost it and looked skyward. Dembe looked at the man oddly. Coming to think of it, the man was looking often towards the heavens. It was odd.
Atticus continued "We realised, or perhaps it may be better to say that we accepted, I, my wife and the people of Illos, that we have a greater responsibility to the magical world. One that comes from a position of power and a position of greater morality."
"And our refusal was necessary at the time. Our peoples did not want war, nor did they want to entangle in the mess that is Europe with its cauldron of instability. And the will of our people mattered more to me than the needs of others."
Atticus glanced at Dembe "A responsibility that the ICW is no longer suited to bear."
As they went up the stairs of the main ICW building, Dembe wondered how many lives might have been saved. Dembe sighed and let it go and stared at the ICW building. 'A responsibility that the ICW is no longer suited to bear'
A point that was more than simply right, Dembe thought to himself.
The ICW Aurors had lost morale, even when he'd helped in ensuring the siege would fail. There was no belief amongst the men. They were worn. Defeated.
And seeing the Magical Quarter as empty as it was, most of its people having fled save for the majority of Egyptians who called Alexandria home since likely the moment it was built, it was abandoned.
Dembe looked towards the ICW building. It still stood – whomever enchanted the building were masters at their craft – but that was all there was to it.
The structure stood but its soul had long departed from the mortal plane. The ICW as it was, was now dead. Its failures, the abandonment of many ICW officials of the city, even the people who'd made Alexandria their livelihoods were gone.
"It's never nice to see such a proud place fall." Atticus commented and Dembe understood exactly what he meant.
"You don't feel triumphant?" Dembe questioned with a raised eyebrow. The feud between the ICW and the Sayres was legendary. It was even thought in Aziza as a pivotal point in History class, last he heard.
Atticus let off a sigh. "Not triumphant. Never that. For all the…conflict that I have had with the ICW, I cared for the people and the history of this place."
"I am…accepting."
Dembe turned to Atticus, a curious expression on his face.
Atticus saw the curiousness and continued "For all of the failures of the ICW, it was a monument of international cooperation. It rose out of necessity and did what needed to be done to safeguard the magical world." Atticus paused for a moment.
"It had its flaws. It made many mistakes. But it also provided the stones with which to build a newer, better organisation that can deal with the challenges that lie ahead."
"An organisation like the Grand Alliance" Dembe stated instead of asking.
After all, it was the only conclusion that existed now. Not even the ICW officials were interested in resuscitating the corpse of the ICW.
"Would it be so bad?" Atticus asked curiously as he peered at Dembe.
"Have our people not flourished from such an alliance? Would the rest of the magical world also not flourish from such deeper, more intimate cooperation?" Atticus posed to Dembe with a raised eyebrow.
"No." Dembe said after a moment before sighing. "No, I believe the rest of the magical world would benefit from joining us."
The country-ships and the Alliance were a practical paradise compared to what he'd seen in this war. People back home lived in peace and in harmony with magic and nature.
Almost no one was in harmony in Alexandria or in Europe…even in France.
His ambitions of defeating strong enemies had long been forgotten in the face of reality. With his family magic, he could sense that acutely. It was why he was so disappointed that it took until now for the Sayres to intervene.
"And so it shall be." Atticus stated with the confidence that spoke that he'd already seen it happen. Probably did, Dembe mused to himself.
"There is still the problem of the Raven." Dembe pointed out.
Atticus turned around as they reached the top of the stairs.
Dembe's eyebrows raised at the faint turbulence in the serenity of his magic.
"A problem that I will take care of not long from now." Atticus said calmly before he eyed Dembe curiously "Unless you would like the honour?"
"If you wouldn't mind." Dembe said easily with a questioning look on his face.
Atticus met his gaze for a long few moments before shaking his head.
"No. He is my problem." Atticus glanced at him before he turned away and began to walk away from Dembe. Dembe narrowed his eyes.
"I can defeat him."
Atticus stopped and turned to him with a sympathetic smile. "Yes, you could."
Dembe eyed the man carefully "You've seen me do it." He stated more than asked.
"I have." Atticus acknowledged before added "And I have seen him defeat you many more times than his defeat by your hands." Atticus stated calmly.
Dembe's eyebrows raised before he narrowed his eyes.
"I find that unlikely."
Atticus' expression turned humorous but there was a glint in his eyes that made the humour seem mired with brevity "I can understand that. It is not easy to accept such declarations." Dembe's expression hardened.
"You can't know for certain that I would have lost."
"I did not say that I know for certain. Only that I have seen enough to know that your victory was not guaranteed, just as the Raven's victory was not guaranteed, only that your defeat was more likely than not." Atticus told him calmly but the words felt like acid in his ears.
Atticus looked him right in the eyes and the next words that he uttered sent a chill down his spine. "The chance of losing you, Dembe, when it isn't necessary to risk you is too high." Atticus stated matter-of-factly before his expression softened.
"Besides…your father would not forgive me if you do not go home safe and whole."
Dembe's anger stopped at that.
Atticus smiled at Dembe before he lost it slightly "You're a powerful mage, Dembe. But sometimes the best thing to do, is to do nothing. It is a wisdom that you should heed." Atticus then turned around and left quietly, the guards that shadowed them walking beyond Dembe to follow the King.
Dembe thinned his lips as he watched the back of the King before sighing, shaking his head as he sighed and simply descended down the stairs, his mind lost in thought.
-Break-
Paris, France
The Raven POV
His coal black eyes fell upon Rue de Rivoli and the river Seine.
Watching silently. Emotionlessly.
How many years has it been?
So long ago that it was a lifetime away.
Hmm…A ghostly touch stroked his cheek. Cold and faded, warm in gesture.
He turned to them, the ghosts of his past.
Their warm but silent ghostly smiles kept the hollowness at bay.
Hmm…
His eyelids drooped low, his chaotic magic swirling around him as memories played out in a reel in the forefront of his mind. Memories of an innocent time.
Happier times.
Times of little but priceless in soulful wealth.
Times of when he'd been complete.
The crows of ravens beckoned him out of from the drifts of memories and he felt them land on his shoulders. "I know…I know…" he said softly and warmly as he turned his gaze back towards the lively streets of Paris.
It would soon come to an end.
The cloak doused in tempests of flames that he wore would soon burn out of fuel and come to fizzle out in the oxygen starved air. There were no more to hearken forth and set alight their flames of inner darkness and make them realise that the universe was simply made for death and nothingness.
There was no need. There hasn't been a need for years now.
His purpose was almost complete now and soon…soon he'd return to death.
He'd delayed it long enough now. "Soon…" he whispered quietly to his ever present companions that he'd longed to be with once more.
The air around him began to shimmer as the reigns on his magic slackened. Shimmering and undulating, the air began to turn heavy as his magic seeped around him like the water through the cracks of stone.
His wand began to rise, the faint sound of his magic crackling dulling the noise of the distant sounds of the muggles below.
Once upon a time…
He'd loved this city.
Once upon a time…
It was home.
And once upon a time…
It had been his hope to return to it.
And no-
Before he could cancel the magic that swallowed him, he was engulfed within a portal and in less than a tenth of a blink of an eye, he was elsewhere.
Black ashy tendrils swirled around his form with violent delight, his magic was unleashed to its fullest and reality around him was strained by his power.
Yet, for all that it was unwanted…he looked upward, the sight of bright stars and small moons eliciting a long forgotten feeling of surprise.
After a few moments, he turned to his right, where he knew the man to be. It was hard not to know. His overwhelming presence was unmissable.
He stood there with his arms behind his back, intently staring at him.
For several long moments they simply stared as red and grey dust blew around them.
"Yasha Romanov" Sayre said gravely and the name hurt more than a thousand knives piercing his chest could ever feel.
"We should talk."
In response, he merely sent a lance of his ashy magic towards Sayre, the rage he felt burning incandescent as he prepared to eviscerate the man who should have left the name where it belonged. Dead and forgotten.