I am so close to giving Lorelle her life back. So close to making things go back to the way they were. No more obstacles stand in my way. No more boulders of opposition or ravines of impossibilities. From now until the moment I pour the recipe's potion into Lorelle's mouth, all I have to do is follow the clear bath laid out for me. It is so simple; I can finally let myself breathe. No more will we be a man watching over his wife's frail body. We will revert back to how we were: partners in life, me loving her with my entire being and her simply being the wonderful woman she is: kind, caring, smart, loving... the woman I have loved for so many years and the wife I will love for so many more.
The stones beneath my feet, the buildings that loom beside me... the material presence of the hardships in our past.
I have seen far too much of this bleak city. I hope I shall never have need to walk its streets again. I pray I shall never have need to relive the dark memories that have been forged within the boundaries of London's grey. If I have any say in the matter, London will simply become a city on the horizon that is merely a faint imprint in my memory.
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Eugene walked down the western street of London. Unlike the other times he had been forced to do so, his head was held high and there was a lively spring in his step. He internally bid adieu to all the landmarks that had come to symbolize the plague... Farewell to the well down the north bound alley. Farewell to the inn that stood at the of the sharpest turn of the street. Farewell to the harsh stones down below and to the cold stones on either side. No more would they come into his sight.
The moment he bag of gold fell into his hands, Phantom would be summoned and they would fly out of the city towards Loch-Eyerin like they had before. But their flight would be one of joyous impatience and not one of hopeless panic. Instead of racing down the roads like a maddened wind, intent on reach its goal no matter the damage it cause, they would float upon the currents of the wind, letting their high spirits propel them forwards.
Eugene broke out into the square. It was strangely quiet. In fact, nothing had changed since he had last been here. The podium was still erected, the careless wind still blew, and the grave-like silence that buried itself into the very bones of Eugene still weighed heavily in the air. The only difference was that the sky was bluer and the was sharper. Or so had his mind led him believe.
The men are most likely awaiting my arrival in the council’s meeting chamber, preparing to pay me for my services to the city, Eugene surmised.
He quickened his steps. It would not do to keep the men --and the sac of gold with his name written on it-- waiting any longer. He strode across the square, passed the desolate podium and right up to the tall wooden doors. He grasped both brass handles and leaned his whole weight back. The doors pulled open easily enough, but the sound they made echoed out throughout the empty courtyard. Eugene glanced around, almost expecting someone to appear and inquire after the noise. But not one single living this appeared.
He entered the dark building. No torches lined the hallways, but Eugene was too impatient to summon an orb of light. He drew upon his memory of his last few visits down the hall, pressed a hand against a wall and began to walk. His footsteps bounced off the walls and seemed to only grow louder as time had passed. Eugene let his eyes dart back and forth, as if waiting for someone to meet him, either handing him his payment straight away, or summoning him faster to the meeting chamber. But the building was as quiet as the square outside.
Something was not quite right. Eugene kept his eyes alert and steadied his hand, while still preparing a few protective spells in the back of his mind. There was no way to know what to expect either walking down the hall or once he had arrived at the council's meeting room. He had better be ready for anything.
The walk down the passageway took longer than he had remembered, but he soon found himself face the door that led into the drafty meeting chamber. Without a moment's hesitation, Eugene pushed the door open and walked to the middle of the room.
Each man was there, sitting, waiting, as if they had expected him to arrive at the precise moment he had. Something was clearly wrong, but Eugene decided that unless it was directly related to him, he would leave it alone.
He took a seat on his chair that had remained in all its glory in the centre of the room since his first audience with the council. Not that they had not tried to remove it, but what was created with magic is often near impossible to undo without magic. The chair and although it had been attempted to make it seem less powerful, nothing seemed to help.
In fact, all attempts at covering it up only seemed to enhance its intimidating attributes. Placing a large sheet over it only made the sharp edges making up the back stand out in a menacing, hand-like way. Using it as a practical table or chair only served to mentally harm those attempting to sit on it --no had had ever succeeded-- or it simply destroyed whatever objects had been placed on it. Usually through instant consumption by fire.
So they had left it alone and instead decided to meet in the library for their daily sessions. Until now.
Eugene placed his arms on the hand rests and stared Kislingbury straight into the eyes. There would be no dilly-dallying like there had been the last time. With the thought of Lorelle now at the forefront tip of his thoughts, in the centre of his heart, and on the tip of his tongue, he no longer cared about anything the mayor or his men had to say. He was only interested in their money... which did not seem to be anywhere in sight.
"I believe this is the moment that you hand over my payment," Eugene said, cocking his head to the side.
Kislingbury took a deep breath as if about to say the most upsetting words he had ever spoken. "And why would we do that?"
Eugene quirked an eyebrow. "I believe the plague has affected not only your body, but your mind also, Kislingbury."
The mayor attempted to gulp back a cough but it came out anyways and sounded more like strangulation. "My mind is perfectly sound. However, I worry for yours."
So, the mayor wanted to play a game? Eugene glanced up at the sun through the windows over the mayor's head. He had a few minutes to play along. "Have you forgotten? Or would you like me to perform a few spells for you? I am a magician. My mind is as clear and as sound as one every was or will be."
"But then why would you ask for your payment?"
"Why would you deny me my payment?"
"I am doing no such thing."
"Then pass over the gold."
"But that breaks our agreement." Kislingbury’s mouth twitched. He was enjoying this.
"How on this earth does it do so?" Eugene could feel his nonchalant attitude begin to wane.
"We agreed to the payment based on the assumption that you fulfilled your end of the contract."
"I have done so."
"Then why are there still some diseased in the city? Why does the plague still ravage the citizens?"
"Because that is how it works. I do not believe that any illness will simply stop because a man --mayor or not-- asks it to."
"We asked you to stop it."
Eugene sucked in his breath and clenched his fists. It was obvious the direction this conversation was going. He did not like it, and he needed to put an end to it.
"The agreement was that I stop the spread of the disease and I have done so,” he said. “Unless your citizens are complete idiots and decide to congregate together, the plague's spread should be finished, at least within London.”
“We are grateful for that, but your work is not done. You must eradicate the very plague from the city and the dwellers within.”
“But that was not the agreement.” Eugene’s fists shook as he glanced around at the men. They avoided his gaze, their lips pressed together and their eyes cast down to the ground, or flying high above.
"I apologize that you do not seem to remember the details of the meeting, magician. As you can see, all us men remember it one way, and you another. Unfortunately for you, the majority rules. The agreement WAS the way we remember, and you will either abide to that agreement or forfeit your payment."
Eugene jumped to his feet. His teeth bared and his eyes shooting daggers at the man upon the stage. "You self-concerned, twisting fiend!" he roared. "Have you no sense of honor? For the hopes of healing your own flesh, you have trodden upon your very own words as well as the integrity of this council. You will give me my payment, or I shall have to force it from you."
Kislingbury flinched under the sheer power of Eugene's anger. "I--I am afraid that even if we wished to break our agreement and give you the undeserved payment, we would be unable to do so. The gold is not ready and it would take at least the rest of the day for our men to properly weight it and record the transaction in our books."
Eugene chuckled darkly. “You snake. You try to hold up this facade of the true or false agreement only to protect yourself. Each word you speak only serves to unravel this wall of righteousness you are trying to keep standing. I, you, and every man in this room are aware of your lies. And although your men might be consenting bystanders, I am the one about to lose here, and I will not leave this room until you give me my payment.”
“We can do no such thing.”
Eugene rook a step towards the mayor, his entire body shaking with fury “Do you think, that I would be here, negotiating with you humans, if I knew how to cure the plague? Why do you think I am in need of gold? To pay off gambling debts? Give me the payment, and I will be able to cure all of you!”
The men broke out into furious whispers as they quickly relayed information to each other. Kislingbury did not move, his eyes locked on those of Eugene: a silent battle.
“I am sorry, but we must reject this.” Kislingbury’s voiced boomed our across the room and the councilors grew silent. “We do not take risks such as this. We put great trust in you that you would cure us and as you seem so resistant to fulfilling this part of the agreement, it seems very likely that you have duped us all. We have no assurance that you have any means of curing us, countering your previous claims. Giving you the gold now would more than likely mean your disappearance and the death of many more. Even if what you say is true, it is unsure as to whether you would help us at all, given the state you are in.”
"Why do you have no qualms about angering a magician, one whose great power you have been witness to again and again? Have you no fear of what I can do?"
Kislingbury's eyes grew wide, as if having only just remembered that the man standing before him --the man that he had angered-- was capable of inflicting great punishments. But he set his jaw and a glint of stubborn steadfastness shone in his eye. "Magician or not, you will not make us give you the gold. This meeting has adjourned. Please leave this room and do not return until you have fulfilled the task. And do so with no hint of belligerence. Or I shall summon Roddendale and his steel to escort you out."
Eugene could no longer hold back his shock and anger. He strode up room to the stage on which Kislingbury was perched. Without a single breath of hesitation, he jumped the stairs, grabbed the mayor by the collar of his robes, and brought their faces close together. The magician's knuckles were bone white, and his green eyes were brilliant with madness.
"Put. Me. Down," Kislingbury hissed, his voice that of a serpent.
"So help me, I will tear you apart," Eugene whispered.
"I know you are weak, magician," the mayor said. "Cleansing the city of the rats drained you of much of your power. You will not --you cannot-- do anything to me. You would essentially be giving up your own life... and only to satiate your conscience that whispers of my wrong-doing. You have no power. You have no gold. Get out."
Eugene fingers crumbled and the mayor dropped from his grip. Kislingbury narrowed his eyes and brushed his robes out. "Out," he ordered. "Or Roddendale will be more than willing to force you to leave. Instead of words such as I speak, he will be using his sword and dagger. Take your pick."
Eugene's hands trembled and his face had gone as white as a cloud on a sunny day. He could not tell if his heart was driving itself mad, banging the inside of his chest like a siege engine or if it had gone completely silent. His breath took great effort to push out of his lungs and each intake of air pierces his gut.
He turned around stiffly, as if having let his mind collapse and as if his body was no longer his own but belonged to a ghost that had forgotten what being human was really like. His eyes wide and unblinking, Eugene slowly walked down the steps, across the stone floor, past the councillors, and out into the hallway.
The moment the door slammed shut after him, his great chair melted into the ground within seconds. The moment the door slammed shut after him, his chest broke open and his legs buckled beneath him, almost sending him staggering to the ground.
What had just happened in there?
What was going on?
What was going to happen to Lorelle?
Oh, sweet, sweet Lorelle. He had failed, and now she would pay the price.