by Sean Davies
Everyone gave a polite round of applause as they grabbed their things and slowly made for the walkways into the main building. Veronica eyed her husband suspiciously, once again trying to work out what was up with him, while Azalea made her way around to the Primary Regulator’s box.
Two heavily armoured and heavily armed Justiciars moved aside to allow Queen Azalea to enter.
Veronica let out a quiet sigh. It had grown customary for Winston to hold a third set of meetings, of a more one-to-one nature, after dismissing his ‘inner circle’. From what Veronica gathered they revolved around personal favours, private trades, and bargains.
“May I have a moment of your time, Winston?” Azalea asked charmingly.
“Of course, Queen Azalea,” Winston smiled warmly.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Veronica said as she prepared to leave. She saw that Cherriesa was looking over, waiting for her turn to swoop in.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing confidential. It’s only a minor request, really,” Azalea replied. “If anything, I’d like a second opinion from a fellow seer.”
“My sight’s not as good as yours, but sure, I’ll stay then,” Veronica said, cheering up slightly.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Winston said lovingly, and gave his startled wife a sweet kiss on her cold, pale cheek.
Azalea smirked at the married couple. “Well, it concerns Constance Lee, your latest recruit.”
“What about her? I hear she’s powerful… and pretty hot,” Winston added cheekily.
Azalea sniggered. “Yes, you’ll both like her in that respect.”
Veronica chuckled awkwardly, trying to seem her usual flirtatious self as she wondered what version of her husband she was standing next to.
“But on a serious note,” Azalea continued, “Constance is in all my visions of the pillar, the very same ones that led me to it in the first place… but they’re odd.”
“Aren’t all visions?” Winston replied.
“They’re always hard to discern, and sometimes hard to accept,” Azalea replied gravely, “but these are truly beyond me. I can’t wrap my head around what I’m seeing.”
“Let me try,” Veronica said, trying to be helpful.
The Vampire closed her crimson red eyes and concentrated, bringing the image of the pillar on the opposite side of the world to the forefront of her mind. She didn’t expect to see much, as her foresight had never been anywhere close to the level that the Conduit of Fate experienced, but Veronica was soon overwhelmed with strange sights. Flashes of machinery strobed across her imagination, along with an image of a young dark-haired beauty. Azalea was right; on a good day Veronica would have bedded her in a heartbeat, but the girl’s looks were overshadowed by the impossible images around her. One moment the girl, who she assumed was Constance, was beside machinery that stretched for miles, and the next she was waltzing across endless fields of blue grass, and then she was studying an unbearably bright sphere of light.
Veronica went to open her eyes to tell Winston and Azalea what she’d seen, but another figure entered the scene. It was the outline of a man, but there was literally no detail or clear colour to the shape—just nothing. It was like the person was being blocked out of her imagination. More disturbingly, the man-shaped blur reached into the sphere of light, yanked Constance out, vaporised her, and then altered the orb somehow.
A shrill screech of pain resounded throughout Veronica’s head, but she still held the vision in her mind, eager to see where it led to despite the pain. Although the images became more erratic, she managed to make out an unending fleet of spaceships leaving Mydia and crusading into the stars. Unbound by the laws of physics, they disappeared and reappeared in every corner of the universe, raining hell on the foreign worlds around them. Armoured figures fought across a countless variety of landscapes, sleek fighter-bombers dominated the skies, silos unleashed their continent-splitting missiles by the thousands, and magic-fuelled infantry and psychic specialists devastated their enemies with limitless magic and reality- warping abilities like a tide of dark mechanical angels and demigods playing at war. Planets, solar systems, gigantic crystal beings, and even galaxies burnt to a cinder, only to be reborn in a new vision of well-ordered beauty. In every violent series of events, Veronica could make out the same strangely incomprehensible person, and before the pain in her head grew too intense to bear, Veronica spotted the outline of a mask.
“Woah! Are you okay?” Azalea asked, catching Veronica as her legs gave way.
Winston came to his wife’s aid. “Did you see anything?”
“I think I saw her,” Veronica said softly, as she tried to regain her footing and composure. “But there were other things. I’ve never had a vision that clear, that powerful…”
“Was it the machines? The fields of blue grass under the starry sky?” Azalea asked, hoping that Veronica’s vision confirmed her own.
“At first,” Veronica said as she wiped away a thin trickle of blood from her nose.
“What was it? What did you see?” Winston pressed eagerly.
“Universal domination,” Veronica said flatly. “And I think Corriztis is an even bigger threat than we first thought.”
Chapter 3
A Match Made in Mydia
Connie’s airship ride over to Central Isle had been an amazing experience, and both Connie and Stitches had a wonderful time being hosted by the Queen of Tropica. The earlier talk of premonitions and predictions had faded to the back of their minds, and Constance had once again focused on the present. Her new life in the Book Wielder Conclave had just begun, and she couldn’t wait to start flaunting her talents.
Before they’d left Tropican airspace, Connie’s phone had gone crazy with messages from her parents. They had heard through the grapevine that the Queen had been at their house, and so Constance had set up a three-way conversation to quickly explain, leaving out all mention of the ominous tidings. Azalea had joined in the conversation and bantered merrily with the Lee family until they’d crossed the boundary of the Tropican mobile network and were forced to say farewell through the crackling line.
The royal airship (and ex-Inquisition prototype), the Amethyst Angel, was as luxurious as it was well-armed, and Queen Azalea had treated her two guests to a late lunch of gourmet fish dishes, sparkling champagne, and a selection of fattening yet irresistible desserts.
The dining section of Azalea’s ship was designed to feed, host, and impress diplomatic guests, and it had left Constance and Stitches speechless. In addition to the antique dining table and chairs, the room contained a minibar, a sound system (made to resemble an old mahogany unit, but featuring a pre-loaded library of digital tracks instead of a turntable), a pair of brown leather sofas either side of a thick coffee table with inbuilt golden ashtrays, an oak bookcase filled with the old classics and the latest best-sellers, and a spectacular diamond floor that offered a crystal-clear view of the world below.
During their meal, Constance and Stitches had spotted a pod of luminous whales in a patch of sparkling enchanted water, and a turquoise Sea Dragon that had burst out of a large wave and flown above the surface for a few miles before diving back underneath.
When Central Isle appeared on the horizon Queen Azalea had taken them into the bridge section, so they could get a good look at their new home. Stitches had watched the pilots and asked them questions about all the controls, and after showing so much interest they had let the Alt have a go for himself; he did a decent job of performing the basics, before letting the pilot return to the touchscreen control panel. Constance had peered out of the massive industrial diamond window and watched as the pleasant shores and dark green grass grew larger, and it wasn’t long before she could make out the little villages and hamlets, along with a handful of bigger towns and facilities.
Dominating the centre of the Isle was the Conclave Amphitheatre, the thick hollow oval shape made of light grey stone and decorated with Justiciar and Conclave banners. It was surrounded b
y other large buildings, one of which was a high-tech multi-tiered airship dock.
The pilots had guided the large majestic airship towards the dock, which was made up of large horizontal circular plates with a wide gap between them and held together by a thick central stalk topped with a control tower, radio antennae, and sensor arrays. They had announced their presence to the control tower and landed on a vacant space, marked by a glowing white ring. As the ship’s landing struts and cargo ramp had lowered, black refuelling tubes had automatically risen out of the landing pad and connected with the Amethyst Angel’s underbelly, ensuring that the plasma generator would have enough fuel for its return trip.
Connie and Stitches had travelled with Azalea and her retinue to the well-secured lift, and once they had been cleared by the Justiciars they had all made their way down the landing complex’s central shaft and walked to the nearby Conclave Amphitheatre, where they had to go through another round of security before they could enter; Constance had heard that Lord Imperator Eve left little to chance. There, Connie and her Alt friend had parted ways with the Queen of Tropica and met their inductor, a fiery redheaded Book Wielder named Chloe O’Kelly.
The cute yet foul-mouthed Book Wielder had shown Constance and Stitches their living quarters in the western wing first so that they could off-load their gear, and then the nearby canteen. In that time Chloe had slipped in a dozen remarks about how quickly Connie had gained her white eyes compared to her own, which had left Constance feeling bashful but slightly smug too. The orientation tour had been suddenly interrupted when Chloe had received a call on her handheld computing device and she’d immediately run off after some smartly dressed man with a backpack, leaving the newest members of the Conclave without a guide, and without a clue where to go or what to do.
After loitering in the stone hallway for a while waiting to see if Chloe would come back, the two friends had gotten themselves a tall soft drink from the canteen and struck up conversation with an off-duty, white-haired Mage Book Wielder named Marvelo. They had spent a while at a table taking turns to block each other’s scaled-down magical abilities, while Stitches watched on with both fascination and a touch of jealousy. To the smooth-talking Marvelo’s surprise, Connie had won the friendly game, but he had assured her that it was only because he couldn’t show her his big moves. Marvelo had left them when his boyfriend Ellis, a tall Justiciar in light combat armour, had finished his shift and arrived in the canteen to find him. The two men had left, but not before Marvelo had made Constance swear to a rematch in a proper training ground.
“Now what do we do?” Connie said, noisily slurping up the last vestiges of her lemonade through a straw.
“I guess we just carry on waiting,” Stitches replied as he crunched a cola-soaked ice cube up with his big white teeth.
“Uh huh,” Constance frowned, “and that decision wouldn’t have anything to do with your in-built Alt sugar addiction, would it?”
Stitches sniggered drunkenly and fished out another ice cube from the bottom of his empty glass.
“You already raided Azalea’s pastries on the way over. Come on, mister, I’m cutting you off before you get too far gone,” Connie smirked as she led him back into the hallway.
“Bless my stuffing,” Stitches gasped, “it’s the Winston!”
At first Connie thought her Alternative friend was seeing things, until she turned around and saw Winston Reynolds, his wife Veronica, Queen Azalea, and the living steampunk mascot DVAM, along with a retinue of guards and retainers.
“Just look at the Empress…” Constance gasped as she drank in the voluptuous splendour of the scantily dressed, raven-haired Vampire Veronica. “How does he get any work done?” she joked.
Constance had often heard people joking about Primary Regulator Winston being Mydia’s Emperor, and after watching the young man walking down the corridor Connie could see why. Everything about him radiated a sense of unquestionable authority; not in a tyrannical way, but still imperial nonetheless, from the way he strode proudly down the corridors of the building that he had created out of thin air, to the way he held his handsome head up high and greeted his loyal followers with a slow majestic wave.
The glamorous Queen Azalea and stunning Veronica Reynolds had most of the hallway captivated, along with Cherriesa, the dark deadly beauty of the Trinity of Old who was trailing behind with her own assemblage of Trinity guardians—some of which were carrying the hem of her regal yet revealing trailing red, black, and gold dress. Although Connie thought the ancient Vampire was easily on par with Veronica and Azalea when it came to jaw-dropping beauty, Cherriesa’s cruel callous gaze gave her the creeps.
“Look, look, look!” Stitches said, excitedly pulling on the side of Connie’s smart black dress. “Winston’s grown his hair, don’t you think he looks handsome? And look how regal he is with that black and white laurel wreath. I wonder what materials it’s made from, what do you think it’s made of?!”
“Hmm?” Connie mumbled as she snapped out of a trance. Her mind had been wandering to some extremely R-rated places as she checked out the beautiful people.
Winston handed DVAM a large pouch of snow-white powder from the inside pocket of his white trench coat. “That’s for the Mayor, a special thank you for his Gloom reagents. I made it myself, I call it Alchemist’s Sugar, but tell him to watch out. It’s ten times as sweet as the regular kind.”
The Deputy Vice Assistant to the Mayor clutched the bag in his mechanical hands, sending a small spout of steam spilling from his wrist joints. “I will do, Winston, I will do… indeed!” he said, trying to imitate the Mayor’s unique way of speaking.
Winston smiled and reached into his coat again, producing a second pouch of Alchemist’s Sugar. “And this one’s for you. Carry on the good work—both as a politician and as an inventor.”
“Wow, thank you so much! I don’t know what to say!” DVAM pocketed the modified super-sugar in this tattered black overcoat and wiped the imaginary tears of joy from his hard-black eyes.
“Don’t mention it, old friend,” Winston said, patting the Alt’s back. “The electro-pistols and cluster grenades went down a treat at the last gladiatorial games. You and the Mayor should really attend the next fight, you’d be surprised just how much carnage the amphitheatre’s barriers can withstand…”
Azalea noticed Constance and Stitches and gave them a quick wave before quietly saying something to the Primary Regulator and his wife. Winston politely shooed away his escort and headed over to the new recruits with the beautiful sovereigns in tow.
“You must be Constance Lee,” Winston said, taking her hand and shaking it, “and that would make you Stitches.” Winston slowly let go of Connie’s hand and reached for the Alt’s fabric palm.
“Winston, I big fan, big fan!” Stitches said excitedly while rapidly shaking the Primary Regulator’s hand. He coughed and composed himself before adding, “I apologise. It is an honour to meet you, sir.”
“Yes, it is an honour, sir,” Connie echoed in an awestruck sigh. She had butterflies in her tummy.
“Please, just call me Winston,” he replied kindly. “Azalea has been telling me all about you.”
“Only good things, I hope,” Constance chuckled.
“She said you were a hottie,” Veronica purred, “and she was right. I thought my butt was impressive…”
“Veronica!” Azalea chided.
Constance went bright red, and Winston and Stitches chuckled.
“My wife can be a bit forward at times,” Winston explained.
“Understatement of the century,” Azalea chipped in.
Veronica shrugged and winked cheekily at the new recruits, before introducing herself formally.
“Well, it’s good to have you both here, my door is always open if you need anything,” Winston began. “Azalea has also requested that you accompany me on a very special mission, as you know, and I am happy to oblige her. However, the details are still being worked out.”
Veronica shuddered when she remembered seeing Constance in the sphere of light, and even more so when she tried picturing the mysterious figure that dragged her out. She gave her husband a fearful glance before recomposing herself and began playing with her long hair with a wistful expression on her face.
Winston turned away and smiled, as though he were looking at a picture that no one else could see, and his face seemed softer all of a sudden. “I remember when I first started out as a Book Wielder— so much wonder and excitement. I couldn’t believe my luck, I was so happy to escape the norm and bathe in the high-life,” he mused, seemingly to no one in particular. “Although, it was so much better when Lewis was himself! I remember when he taught me to make Dreamleaf for the first time, we were tripping balls for hours and he cracked this hilarious joke about necrophilia and Vampires…”
Connie frowned as she watched the Primary Regulator mumbling to himself. His majestic radiance had disappeared completely, and Constance felt as though he had suddenly become a strange cross between an old man rambling about the good old days and a college stoner. However, it was the concerned look in his wife Veronica’s red eyes that troubled her the most.
She’d heard a very sketchy account of the events surrounding Winston and Lewis’ friendship from a friend in the TMF (who had heard it from an ex-Inquisitor who had been on duty when Central Isle was evacuated), but the facts she did know were incredibly sad and tragic.
“What that bloody Archmage did was unforgivable,” Stitches said, bravely patting Winston on the shoulder
“It was,” Winston sighed.
“You must really miss him,” Constance said, unsure of what exactly to say to the mourning man.
“More than anything,” Winston admitted. “Omniosis ripped apart my best friend and stitched him back together, just so he could manipulate me more effectively…” He broke off and narrowed his eyes in anger.