Magic and Mayhem

Orion’s Father

Paris made it to the Ceokian Capital in no time, although he wasn’t happy that his departure was later than he had expected, forcing him to show off one of his more extravagant abilities in front of his apprentices; there was only so much he ever allowed them to see, and his transportation abilities were not one of those he was willing to teach them. There was too much that could go wrong with transportation magic, and he had never been willing to teach any apprentice how to use it, nor would he ever risk them. He had transported himself to the outskirts of the Capital, and he lowered the hood of his deep orange cloak as he looked around.

The sky buildings were intimidating, and they were all around him, towering walls of glass and steel. The smaller sky buildings around him all had a small, brass sign reading the title of the Councilman or Councilwoman whose office was inside, what they oversaw, and their general rank within the Council. At the center of these smaller sky buildings was a much larger, intimidating building, almost made entirely of glass; The Headquarters of the High Council of Ceokian Nonhuman Creatures. This, for whatever reason, was where Paris had been called.

As the old warlock approached, he marveled at the hustle and bustle of it all; no one seemed to notice anyone else among the menagerie of buildings, and yet everyone seemed to be working towards the same goal. Paris thought to himself why he had been called here; it could have been for an official report at the Council Headquarters in Olkmont, which had been vandalized just before their meeting regarding the Autumn Festival. Paris shook his head, chuckling to himself about it. Those rogues really did embarrass the Councilmembers who showed up for the meeting, he thought to himself. As he walked into the main building at the center of the city, he was greeted by a pair of mortals working at the front desk.

“Name please.” One of them asked, holding her pen to her notepad. Paris responded, and the woman looked up at him, her eyebrow arched. “Councilman Aurigan’s office, fifth floor; you’re late, so I suggest you use some of that magic you’re so famous for and get a wiggle on,” she waved him off, and began speaking to the person waiting behind him.

Councilman Aurgian, Paris mused to himself as he started ascending the stairs, what under the three suns could Orion’s father want with me?

* *

Octavius Spencer Aurgian was not known to be a patient man, and when his timepiece read that Paris Graemeyer was nearly forty minutes late, he became frustrated. Had the old warlock lost the ability to keep track of time? There was no knowing; at least not until he showed up. Councilman Aurgian checked his timepiece again, and at that moment there was a knock at his door. “Enter,” he stated briskly, irritation ringing through his otherwise monotone voice. Paris moved through the door, and the werebear gestured for the warlock to be seated. “I haven’t received a status update on my son in some time,” the former began, sitting himself behind his desk. Before the latter could respond, Aurgian continued; “It has also been brought to the council’s attention that you’ve taken on more apprentices than you have previously been permitted to.”

“Tristan is considered a master apprentice, and no longer studies under me, but alongside me,” Aurgian grunted and made some notes in his file. “As for a status report on your son; you are more than capable of writing a letter to him yourself. Orion is a very talented werebear; his navigational skills are impeccable, he is an intense and very skilled fighter; Orion is also kind, caring, and humble. While his magic seems to be simple, he has mastered it with the utmost skill, and continues to practice; I’ll be giving him his final assessment after this month-long schedule of meetings I seem to have been summoned to.”

Aurgian nodded, pressing his fingers together in front of his mouth. “And what of the new apprentice; the Walker girl?”

“I will discuss that with the Council of Warlocks when the time comes. She is out of your jurisdiction.” The statement was short, almost possessive, and his eyes flashed in what could almost be taken as anger. “Why do you ask about her?”

Before the Councilman could answer, there was another knock on the door. “Ah, my next meeting. You’ll excuse me, won’t you, Master Graemeyer?” Paris nodded, and left the office, passing a young man in a brown trench coat. Paris looked at him and, for a moment, thought the young man looked familiar. However, before he could place where he knew him from, the young man was in the office and out of Paris’s mind.

* *

“Why under the three suns would you demand a meeting on the same day as Paris Graemeyer?” Ayden hissed aggressively. “He could have easily recognized me! My sister has been studying with him for nearly five months now!” Councilman Aurgian just smirked, chuckling slightly. “What exactly do you want, anyway? I don’t often get summoned by you; it’s usually the Vampire Council or the Rouge Hunter Council that orders me in for meetings.”

The councilman cleared his throat. “I need you to eliminate someone in the camp,” Aurgian stated matter-of-factly. “After they took out Milo, we lost a bit of an advantage. Thankfully, they do not know you are there, and they assume you’re getting supplies from…?”

Ayden shrugged, flourishing his hand in the air. “Some young warlock who makes the healing potions for us. All I know is Nikodemus refers to him as ‘Shamrock’. Who is my target? How am I to eliminate him?” Ayden hated the look on the councilman’s face.

“We need you to eliminate Nikodemus’s number two; Lennox of the Graymaw Band.” Ayden’s face was obviously horrified, as the councilman chuckled again. “You know your job, and this is part of it. Eliminate him, gain Nikodemus’s trust, and replace Lennox as his number two. That way, we can gain even more intel on what their plans are. You are to poison him with nectar of Wesperin. Is that understood?”

Ayden left without another word, which would usually mean he was accepting whatever task was assigned to him. This, however, this Ayden just was not sure he could do. The young vampire had grown fond of Lennox; he was a father figure to everyone in the group, he was the patriarch of a thriving band of werewolves, he was a trusted confidant and good friend. Nectar of Wesperin was not hard to come across, it was a common poison added to food and drinks that the Hunters often used. As he left the building, being careful to shroud himself and keep his face down, Ayden considered the task at hand. Why could he not simply be the number three? What was so important about Lennox that he needed to be eliminated?

As he contemplated all of this, Ayden made his way to the designated meeting spot for he and Shamrock. Why anyone would choose to call themselves Shamrock escaped the young vampire, but it really was not up to him what anyone called themselves.