Special Thanks to dear Ekaterina016 for their help with this chapter.
I don't own Magi or TYPE-Moon content.
Magnostatt:
The nation of magicians unfolded as a novel realm for the young Aladdin, with its astonishing feats of magical brilliance and a vast reservoir of knowledge, which left the fledgling Magi bewildered during his initial foray into its academic terrain. Gratitude welled within him for the irreplaceable tutelage offered by Yamuraiha; without her guidance, he harbored no doubt he would have floundered in multiple courses.
Yet, amidst the scholastic challenges Aladdin confronted, the underbelly of this seemingly utopian magician society emerged as his primary concern. Beneath the enchanting facade of the thriving magician city lay the grim foundation of their blissful existence – a somber expanse inhabited by a population denied the gift of magic, subjected to a life of desolation and despair. While the magicians reveled in the pinnacle of their craft, securing their well-being and that of their kin without bias, the people beneath them languished in muted agony, their vitality sapping away.
As Aladdin, along with his companions, bore witness to the heart-wrenching sights of the underground, where individuals sought refuge in vice to escape their despair, a profound sorrow settled upon them. The ashen faces, emaciated by famine and deprived of sunlight, tore at the young boy's heart as he struggled to fathom the dire circumstances. Not a single soul in their midst could muster even a ghostly semblance of a smile, as if joy had been entirely drained from their existence.
The continual leakage of magoi from every person's being only deepened Aladdin's sense of dread, as he ventured further into the fifth level.
"You're utterly useless, aren't you, rich brat?" Sphinx scowled, his countenance mirroring the turmoil within as they fretted over a fallen girl.
"Shut up!" Titus retorted, maintaining his composure despite the draining magoi. Any explanation he had considered offering ceased to form when he and Aladdin sensed an enigmatic presence approaching.
In unison, they turned their heads, their gazes drawn to a man cloaked in a somber gray coat passing by. His crimson eyes briefly flickered in their direction, causing the two magicians to freeze in trepidation, the overwhelming aura he radiated through the Rukh choking them.
Gone were the familiar ethereal birds Aladdin had grown accustomed to; instead, they were replaced by malevolent eyes watching them with an unsettling mix of curiosity and scrutiny. In those eyes, Titus and Aladdin sensed a judgment of their worth, a revelation of their very soul.
The man stopped next to Aladdin, his eyes briefly assessing the young Magi. The eyes shone brighter, surprised by something the young boy did not know. Their aura intensified as they got closer, the intensity of their glare turning his face pale, his body completely frozen.
Titus's body twitched, attempting to resist the pressure bearing down on him, only for it to intensify even further. Yet none of those eyes shifted their attention away from Aladdin, deeming the others inconsequential in their analysis. Without warning, the apparitions vanished and the pressure subsided.
The man strode past them with a derisive snort, but the moment felt like an eternity to the two students.
"Are you both alright?" Sphinx's eyes widened with concern as he observed his friends, sweat-drenched and panting, their gaze still fixated on the enigmatic stranger.
Neither of them answered, their attention entirely focused on the stranger as they gazed at the sickly girl uncaring for the distraught magicians. Sphinx could tell the people around them were more focused than before, their eyes all centered on the mysterious figure with what almost felt like…hope?
Kneeling, a tanned hand reached out from under the cloak and gingerly laid on the panting child's forehead before she was lulled to sleep. A gentle light shone before it seeped into her body as her breathing slowly stabilized. Ordinary people could not see the flood of Rukh circling joyously around the cloaked man as it obeyed his every command, its energy revitalizing the girl's spent reserves.
With her complexion restored to a healthy state, the stranger's arm cradling the sleeping child picked her up and continued on his path.
Titus snapped out of his momentary silence, eyes quickly focusing on the child in the unknown man's arms. "Hey! Wait!" Pushing through his anxiety and unease, he promptly chased after them. His two peers followed after him, the group catching up to the stranger as he continued on his path, paying them no heed.
"I said wait!" Titus called out to him once more, his hand reaching out to stop the cloaked man, only to be blocked by Sphinx. "What?" He whipped around to his fellow student, frustrated by the sudden interruption.
"Calm down and pay attention." Sphinx whispered, eyes subtly gesturing to the people around them. "We can't risk making a scene."
Aladdin nodded along, his worry also evident as his eyes lingered on the man.
Titus took note of the sudden shift in the gazes observing them, cold indifference and rampant nihilism giving way to a growing hostility. A lot of the denizens were growing agitated, some reaching for objects near them to use as makeshift weapons while their attention followed the magicians' every move. Quickly analyzing the situation, Titus promptly gave the stranger some space and kept his guard up.
Aladdin tensed once the man turned to him, red eyes visible underneath the hood. Although his gaze felt piercing, he didn't sense any malice or hatred from them. Despite the intimidating presence, the little Magi chose to trust his instincts and approach. "Excuse me, is she going to be OK?" He pointed to the little girl sleeping soundly in his embrace, the child leaning further into the man with her scroll in her hands.
The stranger silently stared at the young Magi, some perplexity flashing in his eyes before he turned around. "Follow me and see for yourself." His stern voice left no room for retort as he continued on his way before he was quickly followed by the three young magicians.
Walking further into the dilapidated houses and ruins, more and more saddening sights came into view.
The faces so gaunt.
The dead in the streets.
Their cries, buried underneath these depths where none may hear.
Sphinx wondered if even those who would hear them cared; otherwise, they wouldn't be in such a state to begin with. 'Something is seriously wrong with this place.' He gritted his teeth and quickly averted his gaze at the sight of a woman weeping pitifully as she held the sickly thin body of a child, completely devoid of Magoi.
The short tread to the man's residence left the three students shaken. They watched as the man placed the girl on the bed before taking off his cloak, revealing a simple gray shirt and leather leggings. Tattoos stretched across his singular arm, and ethereal golden hair was kept in a short ponytail. Aladdin stood next to the bed and watched over the girl, as the man gathered ingredients on the shelves and began to make something. Now in such proximity, the young Magi noticed another peculiarity about the one-armed man.
Why wasn't he leaking Magoi?
"Her Magoi's not leaking anymore." Titus noted, curiously observing the girl as he checked her temperature. Frowning slightly once his light spell was repelled from the girl's body, Titus turned to the stranger. "How did you stop the leakage?" He asked, knowing it wasn't as simple as his initial theory of cloaking her body with a spell.
"By repelling the harvest spell – a simple vector calculation process." The man's answer was short as he approached with a small bowl in hand. Sitting next to the sick child, he placed his finger on her forehead and whispered an incantation none of the magicians understood.
The girl's eyes slowly opened, before she realized where she was and tried to stand up. "I'm sorry, Master Goetia! I must have overslept." She quickly apologized, before she began coughing quite heavily.
"Compose yourself, Marga." The now-named Goetia frowned and admonished the girl, reaching out with a spoon for her to eat what appeared to be some soup as the bowl levitated in the air. "Eat." He instructed, and Marga obeyed happily despite the indifferent tone.
Noticing the magicians, Marga's eyes shone as she took in their pristine outfits. She held her scroll tightly and continued to eat, her bright smile easing the trio's hearts.
"Are you her father?" Aladdin asked, flinching when he noticed a small twitch in Marga's smile.
"I am not." Goetia offered a quick response, eyes focused on the girl as he fed her. "Her mother entrusted her to me before she passed away. I have agreed to be her caretaker until she becomes an adult." He continued the subtle narrowing of his eyes missed by the others when the man took note of Marga's labored breaths. He felt an ache in his chest, knowing Marga's was growing too feeble.
Medicines could only go so far when the body was reduced to such a fragile condition.
"What kind of place is this?" Sphinx asked, idly noting the lack of passersby around this street – almost as if the place was purposefully ignored.
"The foundation of the magicians' folly. A magoi harvest facility made to sustain their fantasy and hubris, in which citizens incapable of practicing magic are doomed to be in until they die." Anger briefly shone in Goetia's eyes, his distaste causing the Rukh around him to shift erratically in response. It was the first time Aladdin witnessed such a direct response from the Rukh to someone's emotions.
The students were left flabbergasted by the nature of this district, their attention quickly shifting to the weak and sickly Marga. Goetia's eyes glanced to the outside, sighing as he stood up and silently headed for the entrance.
For her part, the child mustered a reassuring smile, although it did little to assuage their concern. "It's alright, misters. I have Master Goetia with me! He taught me how to read and write so I could become a doctor one day." She exclaimed proudly as she gestured to the scroll in her hands, her gaze shifting shyly in the direction her caretaker left. "I… want to see the outside world together with Master Goetia. He told me amazing stories about the outside world!" Her eyes sparkled with glee as she remembered the wonderful tales her teacher told of the world outside.
Ordinary towns and cities, the sky, and the sea…
Thoughts of what such things looked like occupied her free time when she wasn't studying. She knew she wasn't a good child since she couldn't use magic, so she poured her heart and soul into the lessons Goetia taught her. It was the least she could do to show her gratitude.
…even if a part of her felt she wouldn't live long enough to become a doctor.
"I'll show you something cool!" Aladdin smiled and channeled his magic, the sand taking the shape of miniature buildings. A cat made of sand hopped on the bed in front of Marga, much to her joy as she watched the show with unrestrained glee.
Titus watched the young girl in silence, relieved by her cheerful demeanor, yet also perplexed by the situation she was unjustifiably subjected to. He resolved to speak with Goetia about taking the child out to see the world when he returned.
No child should be treated this way.
Time passed as the three began regaling the innocent girl with tales of the world and the many wonderful sights they'd seen, Aladdin doing his best to give form to their thoughts with his sand creations. Marga took to their recountings quite eagerly, clapping and gasping with each twist Aladdin added to his chaotic storytelling. Neither of his peers wanted to tell him it was all over the place, but perhaps Marga was able to keep up with him due to their similar age.
The two older boys were no less baffled, regardless. It didn't take long before Titus's patience ran out and he began giving some order to Aladdin's ceaseless babbling, making sure he didn't get sidetracked by each new element he introduced.
Goetia's return put a stop to their discussion as he entered the room, accompanied by an elderly man with a cane. Their presence made the old man tense, eyes fearful as he turned to Goetia for an explanation.
"They are not hostile." The man stated as he sat down next to Marga, his eyes scrutinizing her figure. "Give me your hand, Marga." His hand reached out to her, his eyes carefully observing the child.
She nodded and gingerly placed her hand in his, a warmth seeping into her body for a few moments before it retracted. Goetia frowned, turning to the man and shaking his head. "She will not attend."
The elder frowned, wizened eyes pleading in response. "You must understand, sir. If she is absent, the entire district will be punished." He emphasized, his voice cracking as he avoided Marga's gaze. He, too, held no wish for the girl to risk her health just to be present for patrol. "She has to attend."
But they had no choice.
Goetia calmly stood up, crimson eyes glaring daggers at the old man as he stared him down. "She will not-"
"I-I'll do it." Marga's voice gently interrupted her teacher, giving the man a serene smile once he turned her way with a stern glare. "I can do this. Trust in me." She held strong even still, getting out of the bed and walking to him, scroll in hand before she handed it to him.
Goetia remained silent as he contemplated the foolishness he was faced with, weighing the benefits of forcing the girl to sleep before her body was pushed to its breaking point. He silently observed her gaze incredulously, wishing to ignore her decision in favor of her health.
However, this was also the first time Goetia had seen the child so determined to stick to her choice. It certainly held some measure of childish stubbornness, but Marga was an intelligent child who didn't make light of her words.
"Very well." Goetia sighed, kneeling before her and straightening her hair and clothes. "Exercise caution and return immediately once the matter is done." He instructed, giving a hum of approval once the child nodded.
Goetia and the magicians watched as Marga left with the elderly man, the three students curious as to the reason why the man didn't accompany the girl. Titus and Sphinx shared a glance and chose not to voice their curiosity, lest they probe into something they shouldn't.
Unfortunately, Aladdin wasn't so restrained.
"Why can't you go with Marga, Mister Goetia?" The young boy asked, completely missing the sudden twitch in both his friends' brows at their friend's lack of attention.
"I am not a denizen of this place. I have no care for the floundering of such humans." Goetia snorted, grabbing his cloak and putting it on. "I am on a personal journey, and Magnostatt was meant as a simple stop along the way before I discovered this place." Distaste permeated his voice as he stared at the only source of light in this hellish landscape, eyes narrowing as his attention whipped in the direction of the gate. With hurried, purposeful steps, he left the house.
The three magicians hurriedly went after him, only to gasp when he was nowhere to be seen. "Where did he go?" Aladdin asked his friends as he searched around, surprised by the sudden disappearance.
"He looked agitated by something." Sphinx hummed before his eyes widened in realization. "Maybe he went to check on Marga. We should head to the gate and see if he's there." His proposal was met with approval, the group quickly headed to the gate. The magicians took cover once they caught sight of the citizens of the district, carefully approaching as the sounds of a commotion became clearer.
Aladdin carefully leaned out of cover to see what was happening, shock written all over his face when Goetia's figure came into view. Marga was held in his embrace, while three adult magicians were struggling on the ground. They were choking, desperately gasping for air which never came, until they lost consciousness.
Goetia turned to the old man at the forefront of the fearful crowd, ignoring the stares he was getting. "I shall take care of them. Return to your homes." His piece spoken, Goetia walked away with the bodies of the magicians floating behind him.
Aladdin and Titus made to follow him, but Sphinx stopped them. "We should head back if we don't want to get caught. We already overstayed our welcome." He pointedly reminded his friends, gesturing for them to leave as soon as they could.
The two magicians gave a glance in the direction Goetia disappeared to, their hesitation brief before they heeded Spinx's advice. Keeping themselves hidden, the students hurried out of the district and back to the surface clad in their disguises.
However, it would seem their luck reached a screeching end when they found themselves face-to-face with the very people they were disguised as.
It was safe to say Myers, Irene, and Mohja were not impressed by their depictions of them.
As they were being brought to the chancellor, Aladdin's mind drifted to the underground district – to Goetia and Marga. Although a second infiltration would be very difficult, the Magi was set on going down there again.
There had to be something he could do to help those people.
Uruk:
It was business as usual for the people of Uruk, their spirits still high after a bountiful harvest and an exciting celebration. The foreign envoys had already left, leaving behind their temporary ambassadors until a proper delegate was selected.
Dias sighed as he stood on the balcony of his office, taking in the fresh air with a satisfied smile. From his vantage point, he could spot the students practicing on the training grounds, their struggles bringing back memories of his own time as a novice.
Boy was he glad he wasn't one anymore, the headmaster snorting when one of the students was swept off his feet by a backfiring wind spell.
"It's not very polite to laugh at the blunders of your juniors, Dias." Isamu noted with a well-restrained smirk, hands folded behind him as he watched the city. "I seem to recall multiple occasions in which you failed even more spectacularly." The general teased, mirth written all over his face as he chuckled.
"You're one to talk. I seem to recall your face being black-and-blue most of the time." Dias retorted as he leaned on the railing, a certain nostalgia seeping into his gaze. The days they spent ceaselessly training and discovering the world seemed so long ago now, even though not many years have passed since then.
"Look at us reminiscing like old geezers, we're living our old days already." The headmaster straightened his clothes and laughed, an amusement shared by the general next to him.
"Maybe you are. I've still got a few more years left in my youth." Isamu snickered, taking in the serene breeze and the wonderful view with a happy grin. "Besides, Mother would kill me if I died before giving her a grandchild."
"I'm sure she would. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with that sort of thing." Dias remained wholly unsympathetic to his friend's situation, proudly displaying the free spirit of a life free of motherly expectations.
"Give it some time, I'm sure Merlin will bring the topic up sooner or later." Isamu was quick to decimate the magician's happy mood, his smile slightly sadistic as he contemplated the means the Magus of Flowers would potentially use to get his disciple married.
The general would be lying if he said he didn't look forward to it.
Any retort Dias had was put on hold as both of them spotted figures flying from the shore and heading to the city. Dias's eyes narrowed, a soft golden light shining within them before he frowned. "What the hell are Magnostatt magicians doing here?" His tone was devoid of the former humor and his countenance soured when the magicians began flying above the town.
Isamu turned silent, eyes calmly assessing the group as his hand settled on his blade. Whatever action he was about to take was brought to a halt as Dias's hand swiftly grabbed his shoulder.
"Stay your blade, general." Dias gave his friend a confident grin and pointed to the training grounds of the Vanguard department. "Let him handle this." The headmaster's grin widened when a pulse of potent magical power spread throughout the institution, a blur passing by them and heading for the intruders at blinding speed.
The foreign magicians sensed the sudden presence as well, their advance halted as a man stood in their way with an unflinching gaze.
Despite the plain clothes and the old brown overcoat he wore, the man's stature remained stalwart and overbearing. His hair was short and his beard well trimmed, his bronze eyes radiating an intimidating determination.
"Flight is prohibited here." His voice was sharp and chilling, instilling apprehension in the experienced magicians' hearts as he tightened his grip on his war hammer. "Descend this instant and identify yourselves, or you shall be apprehended." The man left no room for discussion, his words final and irrefutable.
"You ask us to lower ourselves to tread among gois?" The leader of the magicians questioned, a disapproving frown on his face.
"I'm not asking you. It's an order, magician." Power radiated from the man's body, his fury was hard to miss as lightning arced across the hammer's form.
The magician's eyes narrowed before he commanded his followers to descend, much to their disapproval. The man's watchful gaze never faltered as he stood before them, ready to engage at the smallest sign of ill-intent. His confidence left the group unnerved and annoyed, believing they could easily overpower him through their joint effort.
"Identify yourselves and state your business." The warrior asked, hammer placed in front of him as he stared down the foreign group. The people around them took notice of them, their eyes betraying great admiration when they saw the unknown man's figure. Whispers began to mix together as the crowd kept their distance.
"The leader of the Vanguard is here."
"Those guys must have a death wish."
"His hammer looks cool! Look, Mom, it's shining!"
The leader of the group straightened his robes and approached, his countenance sour from being forced to mingle with the other citizens. "We are envoys sent from Magnostatt by the chancellor Matal Mogamett. We have important matters to discuss with your ruler." He answered, glancing at the hammer in clear distaste and confusion. "Who might you be?"
What kind of magician uses a war hammer?
"My name is Khalid. I am a teacher." The stoic man bluntly answered. He turned around, placing his war hammer on his shoulder, and gestured for the group to follow. "I shall take you to the King. Follow me and stay quiet." Heedless of their discontent, Khalid began walking to the Ziggurat.
One of the magicians tried to speak, only to be silenced by their leader's stern glare. The chancellor entrusted them with an important mission, confident they'd return with positive results. He would never risk failure even if it meant humoring pesky rules and the proximity of gois.
Following Khalid's lead, the magicians arrived at the Ziggurat and into the throne room. They stood by as Gilgamesh attended to his reports, the intentional neglect quickly grating on the delegates' mood. Observing the King of Uruk, the envoys couldn't sense the same aura of a magician the chancellor had, his oppressive gaze more reminiscent of the arrogant, magicless rulers. The lack of magic usage around cemented their assumption – no doubt the awe-inspiring magoi flooding the fortress was the result of the blood, sweat, and tears of this country's magicians.
It was a shame they couldn't negotiate with the magical institute instead. A discussion with fellow magicians would have been a much more productive endeavor, the powerful wards and elaborate flow of the Rukh would have been a very intriguing topic to discuss. Even so, the magicians quietly endured the awkward situation.
Eventually, the reports were all accounted for, and the King's gaze finally shifted to the envoys with ill-concealed annoyance. He silently beckoned for Khalid to advance, the magicians following suit.
"Your Majesty, these magicians, hailing from Magnostatt, claim to have important matters to discuss." The teacher gave a respectful bow, his tone notably more respectful than it was previously.
Gilgamesh snorted, a mirthful smile spreading on his face as he finally decided to turn his attention to the magicians. "Is that so?" He asked as he casually propped his face on his fist.
"It is, ruler of Uruk." Their leader approached, pointedly refusing to bow much to the discontent of the people around them. "Before we begin, we would like to extend this gift from Magnostatt." With a simple flourish of his staff, a chest floated to the forefront of the steps leading to the throne. The chest opened, revealing magical devices, jewels, and gold in all shapes and sizes, captivating in its glittering beauty.
The leader of the magicians held back from smirking when Gilgamesh's eyes briefly turned to the chest. All rulers were vain, proud, and predictable, their favor easy to obtain with a few shiny gems and gold.
"State your business." Gilgamesh's voice remained amused, casually moving past the gift easily enough.
"We have been searching for criminals who have escaped our country, and their tracks led us here." The magician explained, his tone turning indifferent. "We seek your permission to capture the escapees so they can be brought back to our nation and judged for their crimes."
Gilgamesh's mirth slowly receded, his eyes growing sharp as he leaned forward. "It is not what they've said." His words sent chills down the magicians' spines, cold crimson eyes judging them with impunity.
Taking a deep breath, the magician offered a curt smile. "They would never speak truth which would condemn them before you. They are on the run, after all." His attitude became more respectful and friendly as he took in the new information, inwardly cursing the loss of initiative to contact the king to the runaways.
Delivering one's side of the story first was a very important step to winning over others. The magicians were confident the gois would be too cowardly to dare meet with the King in fear of being returned in exchange for more valuable items.
"Then let us see what they'll have to say," Gilgamesh noted idly, eyes shifting to a soldier near the entrance. "Gula, bring them here."
"With all due respect, these are proven criminals." The magician protested, not wishing to escalate into a debate with lesser creatures, knowing the possible sympathy their tales would have built. "I can assure you Magnostatt's sincerity outweighs any tale those criminals fashioned."
"I will be the judge of their sincerity, mongrel." Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze freezing the leader in place. "Now, be silent, lest you wish to return with a missing tongue." Crossing his arms, the King of Uruk leaned back into his throne and watched as a group of people entered the throne room guided by the guard he sent and Isamu.
The group grew visibly fearful the moment they caught sight of the Magnostatt magicians, some already consoling their terrified brethren. Composed mainly of youths, women, and children, these people were found off the coast of Eridu and were brought by Isamu when they sought shelter in Uruk.
Isamu approached, accompanied by an elderly man who was the representative of the group. "Good day to you, my King." The elder bowed, his wizened features stoic and composed.
"I trust you were informed of the matter at hand." Gilgamesh noted, his statement answered with a respectful nod. "You may state your case."
The old man gripped his cane tightly, enduring the scathing glares of the magicians to the best of his ability as he focused his attention on the king. "Although those behind me weren't alive at the time, I was present during the time of Mustashim and the magicians' revolt. The cruelty we were subjected to and the humiliation we suffered, I've lived through its entirety." His countenance turned grim as he put aside the memories of the violent upheaval, his hands trembling with each scene haunting his mind. "Everyone lived in despair and helplessness, the only smiles in the pit we were imprisoned in were those of the dying, glad of their release. I began to believe we would spend the remainder of our days being harvested of our magoi until we were offered a chance to escape. Once we made it out, we heard many tales of Uruk and sought refuge in your lands." The elder sighed, visibly reluctant to share any further information about their escape. "The only 'crime' we committed was resisting the fate they subjected us to, your Majesty."
The throne room fell into silence, all attention focusing on the King. Gilgamesh remained calm throughout the explanation, his eyes observing the refugees before he turned to the magicians. "Is this the crime you spoke of?" The King of Heroes grew displeased, his eyes narrowing as he stood up.
"Their escape was proven violent, Your Majesty. They left quite a few of our comrades injured in the process." One of the magicians noted, a glint flashing in her eyes as she pointed at the refugees. "They're also missing five members, no doubt already escaping elsewhere and believing their absence wouldn't be noted." The magician smirked, confident this mistake would play in their favor.
"The people you speak of had died shortly after their arrival in Uruk. They had succumbed to illness due to starvation and magoi deprivation," Ningal coldly noted, her admonishing tone not well received by the magicians.
Gilgamesh slowly walked down the steps and stood in front of the envoys, his thoughts hidden behind a mask of cold indifference. "I initially thought your squirming would have provided me with some entertainment, but you have only succeeded in making an eyesore of yourselves, as well as wasting my time." Gilgamesh inched closer still, blatantly invading their personal space as he stared the envoys down. "A child, two builders, a shepherd, and a midwife – your benign minds had degraded the value of my treasures and made me lose potential ones. Yet you dare attempt to make demands?" A suffocating pressure filled the room with dread, Gilgamesh's anger forcing the magicians back in fear.
"We came with sincerity, hoping this would be an opportunity to build a partnership." The magician struggled against the urge to escape, his every instinct warning him to flee. "You would side with them over us?"
"Sincerity?" Gilgamesh snorted, crossing his arms and giving a proud smirk. "Khalid, dispose of their 'sincerity'." He ordered, relishing in the panic overtaking the envoys.
The silent man moved instantly, his hammer shattering the chest and its contents into dust in a single swing, before he returned to his initial position in a flash.
"They are the property of Magnostatt. Are you truly going to make an enemy out of us over this? For what? A child, two builders, a shepherd, and a midwife?" The magician asked, confounded and terrified of the incredulous situation they ended up in.
"You think too highly of yourselves despite claiming to have been bested by the very people you despise, mongrels." Gilgamesh's smirk widened, his gaze predatory as he laughed. "You are not fit to be an enemy of me. Only an example." The King raised his hand, the fighters around them standing at attention in response. "Flying over the city without probable cause is punished with a week of imprisonment and twenty lashes. See it done." His verdict was resolute and decisive, leaving no room for arguments as the guards snapped to attention and surrounded the group.
Alarmed, the magicians took their stances and prepared to resist.
"Sharar!" The leading magician immediately attempted to use a spell, yet the Rukh did not respond to his command.
Stupified, the magician had no time to react when a hammer struck his body with monstrous force. His body was flung towards the entrance of the throne room, before his corpse skidded harshly against the hard floor, his entire chest caved in.
The rest of the envoys were equally shocked as they joined the fray, only for them to freeze up unexpectedly. The refugees watched with great shock as overwhelming fear suddenly overcame the magicians as if an unmistakable need to surrender filled their minds.
"Magicians of Magnostatt." Isamu's voice only amplified their fear, his sword minutely unsheathed as a glint flashed in his clear eyes. "I ask you to surrender peacefully. I'd hate to spill blood in His Majesty's throne room." Calm and collected, the general's voice filled them with dread.
One of the magicians fearfully turned around, his face growing ashen pale as he fell to the ground in fright. "I surrender! Please spare me!" Completely hysterical, the magician cowered in fear of the composed general.
The elderly representative squinted his eyes, attempting to understand the connection between the magician's fear and the sword. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he felt an unshakable unease. Perhaps it was the way Isamu's hand hovered over the hilt, or the unknown letters etched into the blade, but there was an unmistakable aura the sword exuded, beyond even the magical tools the magicians made.
As the magicians fell to their knees, begging for mercy, the refugees couldn't help but wonder if it was the sword which had truly coerced their surrender. They doubted whether the general was any less fearsome than the eerie sword he wielded, a weapon which appeared as though it had been plucked from the pages of a child's fairytale.
The rest of the magicians followed after their comrade, falling to their knees and begging for mercy as they were brought to their cells. All with a few simple words from the smiling general. The refugees were promptly dismissed, leaving the King alone with his subjects to discuss Uruk's response.
"Shall we begin preparations, Your Majesty?" Khalid inquired calmly.
Gilgamesh nodded as he sat back on his throne. "Naturally. This insult will not go unpunished. Summon the others for a meeting." With a feral smirk, the King gazed into the horizon. Events were moving according to his expectations, and it was time to take the first step in his undertaking. The King of Heroes reached out for the heavens as if grasping the world in his hands. "Spare no effort. We shall grace the mongrels with Uruk's spirit." Gilgamesh proudly declared, his overflowing confidence infectious as his subjects bowed in response.
He shall settle for nothing less than an absolute victory.
"Your Majesty." Ningal's voice broke his musing, a mirthful smile hidden under her veil. "There's still work to do." The young Fanalis masterfully hid her amusement as she placed another stack of papers in front of her King, feigning innocence as she dutifully stood by his side. Her indulgent mood left her wide open to the strict chop which landed on her head, leaving her somewhat aggrieved.
…his perfect victory will have to wait until he finishes these accursed papers. Until then, his assistant's childish pouting shall be enough.
Within a week, the envoys found themselves abruptly expelled from the Uruk, bloodied and humiliated, carrying Gilgamesh's unequivocal declaration of war and the corpse of their brethren. The news rapidly permeated the city and soon reverberated far beyond its walls.
With rapt attention, onlookers from near and far turned their gaze towards the unfolding situation, with many already strategizing and maneuvering in response. Many were waiting to see how the young nation would stand against the more developed country of magicians.
The ensuing conflict would be beyond their wildest expectations.
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Next update: The Wise King