I lied again I'm gonna type as much as I feel motivated to type yippeee!!!!!!!!
just a reminder I'm bad at remembering canon information so I hope I don't get the world-building wrong and my plot being unrealistic. Do read for fun :D
also I did some research about the origins of the spells that the wizards use and I decided to just use latin rather than combine it with other languages that I think (??) some wizards have. I don't know latin.
this is going to be one of my shorter stories iirc from all the other drafts and unpublished stories that I have in here HAHA
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「Social isolation is the act of admiring the bustling sight of people smiling like a field of blooming flowers. The sun is out, today seems wonderful, but you are just a seed left for the birds to pick on」
.·:·.✧ 🪞 ✧.·:·.
"Achoo––! Ugh, who wants to be a flower anyway with all that pollen."
Hilda's first regret of the day was sniffing the exquisitely fragrant honeysuckle up close. Their vines seem to always make their way over to the pale walls of her residence as if they were elaborately crafting a tapestry, a generously-sized home on the border of Langrenus island weathered by time with small garden space for her to use at her own will. While magical technology was continuously advancing as if it were a declaration of a marathon against the wizards, the architecture of a witch's home wouldn't keep up with modern times. She had been living there since birth, however, 300 years were spent dealing with Quinn previously as her live-in assistant rather than a visiting assistant like she was now. Hilda recalled her prior conversation with the somewhat irritated Quinn, the painter witch much older than she was.
The 1500-year-old witch with ebony coils of hair and amber eyes had been living as a mysterious painter commissioned to paint worlds for the dead. Living in the ecstatic Western Country, her works were very popular among the masses of humans. Likewise, it wasn't an understatement to state that other witches and wizards held Quinn in high regard, either.
Hilda clapped her hands to brush off the grass that stuck to her sweaty palms. She decided to stop thinking about her superior. Was Quinn like a boss to her? Hilda certainly did come at her every beck and call, no matter how small or large the issue was.
Ugh, stop thinking means stop thinking, Hilda.
Unfortunately, the living mind was much more complex for her to control to her liking, so she strolled away from her garden and back into her abode with a mellow expression. Her eyes fell on her camera resting on her wooden guest table.
"That's right...I need to gather materials for my camera films."
Wizards drew their magical powers from a specific magical tool they become emotionally attached to, and her magical tool just so happened to be the camera she tinkered with during her youth. Other than using her magical tool to take pictures or capture rare creatures with her special skill, Hilda had crammed all of her efforts to avoid meaningless fights with other wizards. The sea chimera she had caught the week before was still stuck inside the polaroid film she used to capture it.
The camera rose from the table and delicately sailed in the air until it landed within her grasp.
"Now where's that sea chimera photograph..?"
Shuffling the small stack of polaroids, her silver eyes carelessly skimmed through a collection of rare plants and golden petals, crystals, relics and...a whole sea chimera.
"I suppose I can name you Steve. You'll be my pet fish once I shrink you to fit into my future pond," Hilda smirked as she playfully tapped a finger on the photograph of the creature as if she were poking its cheeks. "Just wait for me once I gather my materials for my polaroid films."
Leaving the photographs of her looted items besides for the creature within her table drawer, she slid the rather shocked and pitiful sea chimera into her waistcoat pocket. Her broomstick landed softly in her grasp as Hilda left her residence once again to feel the sun leaving trails of golden warmth kissing her skin beneath the luscious trees. Unlike Quinn's atelier, the island of her residence was bustling with humans hungry for research. Many of them despised the sentiment of powerful wizards living amongst them, and while they couldn't possibly judge the mana or identity of a wizard with the naked eye, countless wizards have already been driven out over time. Hilda recalled a myriad of situations where her residence would be the arena for human researchers to discharge mechanical weapons, calling her home the 'target', and expecting her to either curse, kill or cry.
There were also never situations where she had to fight Northern wizards ravenous for mana stones. Wizards who pass away would solidify into a colourful rainbow stone called 'mana stones', and other wizards fed on it to amplify their strength. Modern humans shortly became dependent on mana stones for their own inventions, leaving wizards in a difficult position. Langrenus Island being the renowned home of hot-headed human researchers was nothing useful for Northern wizards to invade, especially with them hating on the eccentricity of the latter country. Like that, hundreds of years passed where Hilda could live comfortably amongst the humans never ready to slaughter her.
A soft breeze brushed through her hair as she rested her bottom on her broom, her presence gaining the attention of her nearby neighbours scurrying about with papers in their arms.
"Going to visit your boss again, Miss Hilda?" One of the female researchers greeted her with a mechanical gauntlet in hand.
"Not this time. My camera's run out of film, you see. I need materials," came her reply while her broomstick lifted into the air. The researcher burst into a fit of laughter, a habit that many Langrenus Island residents do whenever they see a fellow researcher in a predicament before raising her arm with the gauntlet installed as fists without warning.
Immediately, burning hot balls of flame glid from the fist of the gauntlet and surged forth towards the witch with murderous intent.
«Aestas Scaena»
Numerous magic circles appeared before her body, shielding each of the fiery orbs from laying a single touch on her. The female researcher scrunched her face up at the sight of Hilda's effortless defence.
"Oh, it's got some aiming assist?" Hilda formed an 'o' with her lips, intrigued by the targeting of the gauntlet's fireballs. "How did you program that?"
"It follows the concentration of mana stones," the researcher answered, tapping her pen on her papers to write about her results. "The gauntlet itself isn't made with pure mana stones, but a depleted mana stone."
"A depleted mana stone...so a mana stone lacking the mana within it? I've got no idea things like that existed."
"I've extracted quantities of its mana while leaving only a little speck."
"In other words, it's hungry for mana itself," Hilda murmured to herself.
But that's dangerous. Mana stones also power many appliances here. If who you're shooting at has less mana than...that huge ship also powered by mana, for example, you might just be aiming at the wrong thing.
I won't say that, though.
"Clean up the mess you've made with your gauntlet."
"Y-Yes! Oh, I forgot to mention, but if you're planning to look for materials you should travel to the Eastern Country's night market."
Hilda blinked at her suggestion. It was rare for Eastern citizens to roam about at night, let alone set up a market at such a time. "Night market?"
"All of the merchants aren't originally from the Eastern Country, though," she clarified, readjusting the papers almost falling through her arms. "Apparently the economy in the Eastern Country has been facing some supply issues for a while now, so they've been calling out to merchants from other countries for a diversity of products. The market helps them reconnect with the other countries than travel, and it's been going on for three weeks until the end of next month."
It wasn't a troublesome suggestion. While she was unsure whether she would be able to find the right materials for her polaroid films, she could shop around for unfamiliar items like relics.
"Alright, I'll go take a look."
With that, her broom carried her to the air.
Today, too, Hilda would live her life as a spectator on the other side of the lens of a camera. She crossed her legs as her arms held the neck of her broom, controlling the flow of her magic despite the lack of thoughts entering her carefree mind while soaring. It seemed she had exhausted her brain early in the morning, steering her to mental tranquillity. Catching sight of flocking birds alongside her, she let out a gasp once one of the birds crashed into another. The birds managed to fly back on track.
"You're a disgrace of a wizard."
"Do you want the wizards to fall? To hand the humans our bones!?"
Hilda's eyelids lowered once she proved herself wrong with her thoughts. She let out exhales in measured intervals and relaxed her stiffened shoulders.
Once she fully opened her eyes once again, the voices were gone and so were the birds.
.·:·.✧ 🪞 ✧.·:·.
"Ahem, so the report is written as follows," the sweet voice of the young Sage Akira smoothly rang throughout the lounge of the Sage's manor. The wizards from the Eastern and Southern countries both fixed their eyes on her to hear the details of their expedition. "To the Sage and the Sage's wizards. I am Olson, a merchant who has traded with many countries for herbal ingredients with the support of my wife. I have done this for the majority of my life ever since I bought my own land in the outskirts of the Southern Country."
"Oh, so this is a request from Uncle Olson!" Rutile commented with a bright smile on his features. "He has a good reputation for also supplying herbs to clinics in villages with his wealth. We've had the opportunity to meet him around the country didn't we, Mitile?"
"Yes! He's helped me out a lot with his knowledge of herbs."
"And? What's the main issue he wants us to investigate?" Shino queried, brimming with anticipation. It hadn't even been long since he had gone on an expedition. "You mentioned awhile ago it had something to do with the Eastern Country, didn't you?"
"Yes, he said he had recently been selling his herbs in a night market held in the Eastern Country. I'll continue reading," Akira nodded while skimming through the request for the nth time. "This isn't my first time travelling as a merchant to the Eastern Country's rare night market that happens whenever the economy needs more resources in a hurry. It gives us a chance to up our sales, after all. However, in my second week, I noticed a number of merchants leaving without bringing their products with them. I'm afraid this might sound like a kidnapping case."
"A kidnapping case?" Heathcliff exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows in concern. "Isn't this a big problem?"
"I can understand why he reached out to us," Faust voiced with his arms folded as he explained his thoughts. "Think about it, the merchants who have disappeared are citizens of the other four countries. It could be a matter of whether it becomes the Eastern Country's responsibility or whether the merchants from these other countries have planned something."
Lennox removes his eyes from his sheep poking its face out from his messenger bag. "Do you mean this might lead to a political conundrum?"
"Yeah."
"How about when we arrive at the Eastern Country's night market, we stay together?" Figaro suggested with his usual upbeat tone. "After our introductions, one country could be assigned to talk to the other merchants to dig up more information about the last time they've seen the missing merchants. The other country will monitor their movement to ensure no one disappears after the night market closes. It'll be bad if more merchants disappear while we're there."
"I'd like that too," Akira raises her hand in consensus. "Since this is a kidnapping issue, we don't know what type of person the perpetrator is or whether they're a wizard. I don't really want anyone here to stray away from each other just in case."
Once the wizards of both countries nodded in agreement, they all made their way to the magic elevator to reach the Eastern Tower. Swiftly they arranged themselves within the elevator with each their own conversations.
"Leno."
With a whisper between the louder conversations, Lennox turned to meet Figaro who called his name murmurously.
"...What is it, Doctor?"
"You seemed to be in a deep thought earlier."
Lennox repositioned the strap of his bag resting on his shoulder. "I wasn't particularly concerned. It's just...when I saw Sir Faust voicing his opinions earlier, I reminisced how Sir Faust kept his leadership with him."
"Hm? I thought you two were getting along compared to when we first entered the manor."
"We are, but it doesn't change the sense of awkwardness between us."
For a moment, Figaro stared at the mentally preoccupied wizard with his arms on his hips. He then traced his glance to Faust who was chatting with Nero. No matter how complicated their intertwined pasts were, Figaro was a firm believer that time was always the solution. Being the witness of it said otherwise, and wizards who seemed to have too much time yet spent it on conflict made Figaro ponder his own history.
The elevator reached the Eastern tower shortly, and they all were enveloped with the sight of the serene yet busy streets of the village. Mitile absorbed every detail with wide eyes and an enthusiastic grin, being the first to exit the elevator and peering at the view from afar. Stands draped in thin cloth were stained by the captivating hues of dusk and long shadows began to cast below the figures of merchants preparing for their respective stands. His eyes then met with a familiar old man having a conversation with presumably other merchants.
"Look, it's Uncle Olson!"
Faust took a quick peek at the merchants to identify the owner of the request. "We should all greet him and explain the situation as soon as possible."
It didn't take long for them to travel to the night market without their broomsticks. The Easter Country were known for their loathing of wizards and lived a life of conformity; the presence of numerous wizards could have called for more trouble for both the citizens and the perpetrator of the disappearance incidents. The elderly dressed in a gentleman-like attire peculiar amongst the merchants turned around and beamed at Akira and the wizards, reaching out a crinkled hand stretched over time to gently shake hers.
"Thanks for coming," Olson welcomed on behalf of the four other countries. "I'm sure it must've been difficult to accept my request out of the others."
"That's not the case Mr. Olson," Akira smiled back. "In fact, it should be me apologising for taking so long to prepare and arriving after two weeks of your letter."
"Don't say that! We're all so happy you're taking us seriously after all. It's been a long time since I've met your Southern wizards I can't help but be grateful."
"'Taking us seriously'?" Lennox repeated with a question in mind. "Have you already addressed this to other authorities?"
Olson pursed his lips and let go of Akira's hands. "The other merchants did. They thought the domestic law enforcement would do something about it."
She frowned. "They didn't?"
He shook his head with his eyes closed. After a quick huff, he smiled once again and gestured for them to look around. "You lot should spend some time enjoying the night market too. Don't let every single detail get to you or you'll get these forehead wrinkles like me, haha."
Rutile waved at Olson with great excitement. "We'll get back to you soon, Uncle Olson."
Akira and the wizards then formed a circle as if planning a group project. She then proceeded to draw back to their conversation from before they entered the Eastern Country. "Mr. Olson looks like he knows more than he told us in the request."
"I also thought so," Nero followed. "We don't know what the other merchants have witnessed and how the Eastern Country reacted to this. Maybe we should still stick together until we've received enough information."
It was decided that the two countries would strike up a conversation with the two rows of stalls set up by the respective merchants. Due to the Eastern wizards' introverted nature, Akira found herself tagging along with them to inquire about the disappearance incidents.
"Several merchants disappearing from the night markets?" One of the merchants clicked their tongue at the Eastern wizards. They were selling musical instruments in all sorts of conditions. She swore she saw an acoustic guitar with only one string left attached. "They must've stricken gold and run away as soon as possible without gathering their own measly merchandise."
"Ah, really..?" Akira mumbled, mustering all her strength to ignore the scrutinising reactions from the wizards behind her. "But isn't it a bit suspicious how it's never happened before?"
"Missy, this isn't the first time this happened," they scoffed in response. Perhaps they were looking down on them for not being interested in their merchandise. "Any more than this and you're gonna have to pay. Merchandise ain't the only things people pay for."
Their first stall ended in a flash.
Akira tightened her fist to motivate herself. "L-Let's go to the next stall!"
The next merchant sold handmade jewellery and trinkets. With a wide business smile and attractive face, Akira was sure this merchant could be helpful to their investigation.
"Hello! These glassware are lovely," she complimented.
"Thanks for the compliment. My works are as delicate as the effort I've put into them."
Heathcliff studied the broad range of fragile works on the stand. "You must be a talented artisan."
"An artisan I am, lad! You all look like travellers from other countries, I presume? Must be your first time visiting the night market. Now, what can I do for you all?"
"We're actually wondering about what happened with some of the merchants who were also participating in the night market," Akira said with a still smile on her fine features.
The artisan's wide smile immediately dropped, their folded muscular arms stiffening at her words.
"What? You're all journalists?"
"N-No! That's not it—!"
Before the artisan could stand up and raise their voice, Faust stepped in with a hand intercepting the artisan and the Sage. "We have a good friend who is also enlisted as a merchant participating in the night market. We don't know where they are and suspect they might be missing with them."
"A good friend? Who? Madam Denise? Fishmonger Gavin? Florist Ruben? Baker Herman?"
The Eastern wizards briefly exchanged glances at each other before nodding.
"Fishmonger Gavin!"
"Madam Denise..."
"Uh, Baker Herman?"
"Florist Ruben."
The artisan fumed in a fit of rage and waved their fist.
"Get out of here!"