The alchemist sat himself upon the throne once belonging to King Xarele, now forcibly removed from power and imprisoned. The side of his face rested meditatively against his palm as he stared out upon the grand hallway before him, flanked by marble statues of what he assumed to be former majesties and equestrian champions. There were towering archways adorned with gold embellishments and colorful frescoes, exquisite paintings of queens and princesses whose alluring features had traveled generations… delusions of ostentatious grandeur, as far as the alchemist was concerned. His new world would do away with such archaic traditions and usher in a new societal construct, the natural consequence of his life’s ambitions.
Charles the Alchemist, the enlightened ruler to end all rulers. A sententious smirk played along the corner of his mouth.
In actuality, Charles didn’t like thrones. They were cold to the touch and often sent unpleasant ripples of gooseflesh across the length of his limbs. He also didn’t view himself as any sort of monarch, meant to bear the weight and wonders of a crown. In his own eyes he was instead a messiah, the chosen Godhand delivering to the world its deepest unspoken desire: a riddance of magic in all its manifestations. By the grace of the Maker he had discovered the means to achieve this goal, and its implementation had been remarkably swift… driven by the relentless antimanna, the substance that reversed, rejected and nullified magic’s influence upon all of Great Earth’s creations, far and wide.
Those beyond his soldiers and dignitaries, however, saw Charles the Alchemist as a monster. Healers were robbed of their ability to heal, their white magics nullified after ages of sacred practice, subjecting them to illnesses once thought abolished. Dark mages lost their mastery of the elements and could no longer mount a resistance, their sputtering spellcasts fizzling like a boot upon a fallen match’s flame. Dragons and other masters of the skies could no longer soar… more often than not, they simply withered and died. A world full of magic and wonder was now being tamed, for better or worse, by a tidal force the likes of which the world had never seen… or could ever prepare for.
All things considered, there had been remarkably little bloodshed, at least from the cold objectivity of the great Alchemist. Those who were willingly subjugated were cleansed and rehabilitated. Maidens were given opportunities to marry soldiers of the Great Army… soon afterward, they were promptly reinstated in their villages. There were, of course, the stubborn lots who would never, could never see the need for magic’s abolishment…. and they were dealt with appropriately. This great cleansing needn’t be a struggle, the Great Alchemist thought, if only the world would understand magic’s futility.
Even then, despite the momentum of his crusade that seemed sanctioned by the Fates themselves, there still existed those who somehow bubbled magic to the surface of the river that was drowning it…
“Commander Charles,” came a voice from the throne’s hallway, startling him from his heavy contemplations.
“Hmm… yes?” The Great Alcehmist’s eyes squinted through a nearby window’s beam of morning light, speckled with bright dots of dancing dust. His chief advisor, lieutenant Aldridge, revealed himself with a salute and a clap of his boots.
“My apologies in disturbing you, sir, but I wanted to share news of the captured sorceress…” The advisor paused to swallow before continuing. “She’s had another one of her… outbursts.”
“Truly?” Charles’ voice was colored with a faint fascination. “Was it… dealt with, like the others?”
“Our elite sentries managed to contain her, yes. But it was quite the struggle.”
“I see…” Charles’ voice trailed, as if swallowed by thought. “Very well, then,” he proclaimed loudly, as if settling upon some grand revelation. “Bring her to me.”
The lieutenant’s eyes widened slightly. “Commander, I don’t believe that to be…”
Charles held up a finger to close the matter. “I shall speak with her myself and subsequently determine what course will be taken to ensure that her stubbornness is… appropriately harnessed.”
“Of course, Commander. Right away, sir.” Lieutenant Aldridge noded and bowed, still with an uncertain gaze, before he excused himself from the Great Alchemist’s presence.
___
She came escorted by a contingent of troops, her wrists and ankles shackled, nudged along from the small of her back by the butt of a rifle. The ‘sorceress’ was guided through a massive, egressed doorway carved from sacred oak and onto the lengthy scarlet rug that led to Xarele’s former throne, which was seated upon a small, circular staircase. Charles kept his keen, calculating glare upon her until she was presented before him, standing tall as if ready to be sentenced by a judge.
The woman would see a tall man with a sturdy build, his legs casually crossed as he sat. Eyes of greenish amber complemented waves of mahogany hair that swept across his forehead and just above his eyebrows. His soft olive skin presented its imperfections shamelessly, with moles and freckles likely obtained from the sun’s persistent touch across many years of outdoor work. His attire was almost shockingly simple, especially when contrasted with the royal throne upon which he was seated… a plain, white button shirt with beige slacks and suspenders attempted no extravagance whatsoever.
“Well met, my dear,” Charles offered as greeting to the woman standing before him. “I suppose you’ve already deduced the reason you were brought to me.” The pursed smile across his lips exhibited an aloof, almost patronizing quality.
“It seems as though your tantrums have been… problematic.” There was an arrogance in his eyes, however, that relayed their own words. But we managed to reign you in, just the same.
The pause in the air hung for a few moments before Charles audibly drew in a breath. “I place no hope in my attempts to have you understand the necessity of my conquest,” he declared through a reconciliatory sigh. “However, I can make arrangements for your transition to be as… painless as possible. For example, I can free your friends and family from my dungeons… if you would only ensure your cooperation henceforth.”
The smile that followed appeared more genuine on the Great Alchemist’s face. “Before you answer, my dear, may I know your name?” he asked affably.
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