[Entry 23]

Entry 23

 Two entries in the same night! Yes, I had said I would devote more consistency to my entries, however what I write here is of special importance. If what I have been told is correct, then I now have some leads that should make my work in the coming 'morn much easier than I anticipated.

 

But first, a story:

 

I was still watching the Bends from my window. By my timepiece's reckoning, it was just after midnight when the "ladies of the night" appeared, standing at attention at every corner and in every half-distance, as if on watch. Some patrolled up and down, questioning the passersby more often than even a diligent town guard. I had to chuckle out loud; with sentinels like these even Dahlia could dismiss its guards.

 

Some hours afterwards I found myself bored simply watching men, adolescents, and the elderly approaching these women and leaving with them. I was still most definitely awake despite the hour, my curiosity impelling me so; a habit I never lost after spending so much time in the libraries back home. Ah, Kudros, I wonder how loud you must be roaring at all the adepts stalking your tome-lined halls now?

 

My gaze scanned the line of prostitutes countless times. However one approached into view now from up the street. She is raven-haired and tan of skin, young enough to still be called beautiful and yet old enough to discourage the more fiendish of the lustful. She is interesting. The way she walks is still tall and without that bow-legged gait of the veterans, and she is still fierce of gaze. It's possible that she is still just too inexperienced, but her handling of potential solicitors betrays more street-knowledge than that. She is picky, as she turned down her "suitors" and choosing only specific ones.

 

As stated, a most interesting case indeed. I'm by now curious enough to investigate first-hand. If nothing else, then I can show her how a Dahlian man treats his woman! I almost laughed in cruel delight; after this she'd be too spoiled for any of this town's riffraff.

 

I headed downstairs and left the tavern, making my way towards her. My presence elicited glances, but for the most part they returned to more immediate business. Everyone could agree there are more important things in life, such as paid sex.

 

Up ahead, the raven-haired woman suddenly turned her head towards a nearby alley, as if listening. A moment later, she stepped inside, disappearing from view. Irked at the prospect of her catering to someone else while I was just about to take that very opportunity, my pace increased. At the back of my wrist I was already preparing the conjurations for something, something to make that man flee and not come back. Not for a good, long while at any rate.

 

Now that I think back on it, I wonder if my inflamed reasoning at the time didn't want to acknowledge the fact that maybe I wanted to show off to his mistress, too.

 

In any case, as I approached the alleyway I could make out conversation. Heated conversation. It rapidly devolved to impassioned argument. Something about payments. The arguments give way to shouting. The other prostitutes nearby backed away; they sensed what was coming. For the moment, they seemed to be afraid of something more than me.

 

There were loud grunts, then flesh hitting flesh. I stomped towards the entrance and turned the corner to see a large, stocky but well-dressed man holding the dark-haired prostitute by the neck against the wall. His teeth were bared and shouting into her face about money. Her "employer," I presumed.

 

The spell I had in wait for combat does not go to waste. Sneering, I launched it at him, and before he could scream the yell came out only as heated air from melted vocal cords. His head was instantly aflame from the heat emanating from below his collar, the rest of his body searing and instantly turning into ash from the intense temperature I've incited all throughout his being.

Charred clothes and chunky dust collapsed in a heap onto the ground, and the air was rife with the aroma of burnt meat.

 

She was leaning against the wall, one hand on her neck, rubbing it tenderly. I didn't say anything, letting her regain her breath. She eyed me warily.

 

Finally, I asked if she was alright. She only side-stepped the remains of her pimp, keeping her back to the wall. Almost daintily, she poked at the ashy pile with one foot. Now I was irate. Wasn't it obvious? "He's dead," I told her. She only sneered back, continuing to poke at the scorched clothes.

 

Finally, "Did you have to destroy his money too? Gods..."

 

Finally satisfied that she wasn't going to find anything worth looting, she ran off.

 

The other women were now poking their heads in. More than a few gasped at the sight. I said "I hope you're happy. He's gone now." They only stared. In hindsight, I like to believe my good deed was simply too much for them to contemplate, and that their only natural reaction anymore was to likewise attempt to loot the remains for anything of value. One of them even took the ruined clothes, draping them over her regardless of the horrible smell.

 

Upon my return to the tavern I sat down at the bar counter and requested a drink. It was there I had a rather most enlightening conversation with the barkeeper. He proved not to be as much of a simpleton as I had thought.

 

He got my attention by telling me not to expect any thanks. That too many of my kind--other mages like myself--had come through. Too many of them had done enough ill to cancel out whatever any good others may have did in the past or future. The town hated us, hated us for coming, and hated us for whatever we tried to do. The town was not too keen on change, for better or worse.

 

It was that which got my attention. I asked him about the other mages. He responded that they were all gone now, killed off as soon as they came. This is what I've been waiting for! I asked him if he knew anything about what happened to those mages, however he refused to say. One person used to investigate into each of these mageslayings, but as of late even he stopped appearing in town. It was unknown, to the barkeep as least, if this man was still alive or dead.

 

I asked who this man was. And the barkeep said it was Falstad Borden, appointed overseer of the region by the Dahlian League. The very person I need to find.

Author's Note

In the spirit of the journalistic style, I will leave most initial grammatical, syntactic, and other "first-draft" errors intact. Revisions will only occur if major changes are deemed necessary.

Reviews

[C.A.Jordon]

This piece of art is different ,I LOVE that. when you finish, if you havn't already publish this

[MR_BERG]

I like the direction this is going. It's almost like an otherworldly murder mystery, and the smarmy mage makes sense for that duty, but I still look forward to his a*s being kicked before he finds the real mystery.