Tale of a Hedonistic wizard

James and Antony were men in their middle ages, and their appearance showed their age. James had a receding hairline and a few grey strands peeking through his dark hair. His face was etched with fine lines, revealing years of laughter and worry. Antony, on the other hand, had a distinguished salt-and-pepper beard that framed his weathered face.

The deep crow's feet around his eyes spoke of countless hours spent outdoors.

James Lasson paused his writing, his gaze shifting from the document to Antony Kahler. With an enigmatic smile, he leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in contemplation.

His voice held a measured tone as he replied, "Antony, a 'joke' is only as insignificant as we perceive it to be."

Antony Kahler, still visibly perturbed, sought further clarity. "But Mr. Lasson, her clandestine group poses a threat to our endeavors. We cannot allow her to continue unchecked."

Lasson nodded thoughtfully, acknowledging the concern. "Indeed, Antony, I do not propose we underestimate her or her associates. However, we must exercise discretion and restraint. Engaging in open conflict may reveal our own secrets and disrupt our carefully laid plans."

Antony's voice echoed through the dimly lit room, laced with a hint of trepidation. "It seems she has her own ambitions," he remarked, his gaze fixed on the expansive window that overlooked the city.

"Lately, we observed that she seemed to be taking those devil's spawns directly under her care, not discreetly as usual. I tell you, one day, she might even lead them to revolt against us."

James, seated behind a meticulously organized desk, cast a piercing glance at his companion. His expression remained composed, belying the gravity of their conversation.

"Antony, you should focus on your own tasks and cease concerning yourself with this woman," he stated in a measured tone. His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken implications.

*

Meanwhile, Francesca found herself in the luxurious confines of a sleek, classic black car. It glided through tree-lined streets, casting dappled shadows across the polished exterior. The car was like an antique piece, its black colour glittering in the moonlight.

A man drove the car, and as she sat in the back of the car, leaning back against the plush leather seats, Francesca was preoccupied with her thoughts.

Her destination loomed on the horizon—a round-shaped edifice known as the Primal Atoll. This was the residence of their nation's leader, a structure that stood as a witness to human ingenuity and unwavering labour.

The round building stretched over a few acres, making its presence known to everyone in the city. Its sleek design and towering height made it a symbol of power and authority, reflecting the grandeur of the nation it represented.

As Francesca gazed at the Primal Atoll, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious. No matter how many times she had come to this place, she was still not used to it.

As her car arrived at the imposing gates of the Primal Atoll, uniformed guards meticulously inspected the vehicle and its occupants.

With a nod of approval, the gates swung open, granting passage. The car meandered along the gracefully designed lanes, eventually pulling up before the grand entrance flanked by towering pillars.

A sweeping staircase beckoned, leading Francesca up to her destination, a place of power and intrigue.

After stepping out of the car, Francesca approached the vigilant guards stationed at the entrance.

Recognizing her, they nodded respectfully and allowed her entry without hesitation.

With a confident stride, she navigated through the grand entrance into a lengthy corridor.

On one side, the corridor opened into a spacious courtyard bathed in dappled sunlight, while on the other, a series of imposing halls and rooms stretched into the distance.

Francesca proceeded with the self-assuredness of one who knew these hallways intimately.

Her journey continued for several minutes until she arrived at a grand door adorned with intricate designs. She rapped gently on the door and, without waiting for a response, entered the room through the single door.

The chamber beyond was expansive, its floor was carpeted in luxurious fabric, and a massive desk dominated one end.

The walls were adorned with ornate tapestries depicting scenes of historical significance. The roof domed high above, revealing a stunning chandelier that bathed the room in a warm, golden glow.

Seated behind the desk was a man dressed in sombre black attire, his presence commanding respect. He was a white-haired, middle-aged man.

Near the window stood another figure, his form impeccable in a formal ensemble. With neatly combed hair and a well-groomed moustache, he exuded an air of rugged handsomeness.

As Francesca entered, he turned from the captivating view of the city it offered and acknowledged her presence.

With a low, resonant voice, he spoke, "You have come; please, take a seat."

He was Lord Minister Crawford Brighton, an esteemed advisor to the kingdom's ruler, His Royal Highness. The nation was governed under the wise and benevolent rule of the king, whose authority was unquestioned and whose subjects thrived under his leadership.

In the room, Lord Minister Brighton inquired, "It seems you have come with something to report."

Beside Francesca, the Venerated Father turned his attention towards her.

She began to recount the unsettling events, describing the appearance of the mysterious monster and the bewildering anomalies she had encountered.

However, she maintained a veil of secrecy around Jaegar's identity, referring to him as a young man in the suburbs and withholding his name for now.

Francesca's actions bore an air of intrigue, as she had kept her intentions veiled from those who had recruited her.

It was Lord Minister Crawford Brighton who had personally appointed her for the task at hand. She first started working in the special forces.

Behind closed doors, they had clandestinely orchestrated the formation of the group she now led.

They had taken in these individuals, secretly training and imbuing them with a sense of freedom and choice. This concept had been envisioned by Lord Minister Brighton and the Venerated Father.

In the past, before the idea of this group had taken root, the Bureau of Mystic Investigations had taken a more ruthless approach, often disposing of those with abilities, deeming them sinners against the gods.

They staunchly believed that mortals should not wield such power, as it defied the tenets of their one true deity, Irŕdał.

These individuals, labelled as Novoyants, were actually people with exceptional talents and abilities, allowing them to harness supernatural abilities. They didn't require chants or incantations to manipulate these abilities like wizards do.

Novoyants were born with their powers, making them a rare and coveted group among the mortal population. The fear and persecution they faced, only intensified their desire to keep their powers hidden, leading many Novoyants to live in secrecy or join underground organizations for protection.

"You have never mentioned anyone before? What's so special about this one?"

"I believe he is unlike any we have encountered before," she replied in a solemn tone.

Lord Minister Brighton turned his unwavering gaze towards Francesca as he inquired, "So, when do you plan to bring this young man into our fold?"

Francesca contemplated for a moment before responding, "Soon."

"I shall personally oversee his integration into our ranks."

The Lord Minister nodded solemnly.

"Very well. I trust you will handle the necessary procedures."

He then turned his attention to the grand window, where the night had illuminated the city with a sea of lights. His voice carried a weight of responsibility as he continued, "Ms. Ravenswood, His Royal Highness has become increasingly sensitive as of late. It is imperative that you neutralize these sinister creatures and those misfits before they pose a threat to our citizens."

With a tone of resolute authority, he added, "And do whatever is necessary to ensure their compliance."

The Venerated Father, who had been silent all this time, opened his mouth, and his visage was serene.

"Goad them if you have to," he said calmly. "We cannot afford to underestimate the danger they may pose. Use all means at your disposal to bring them under control and protect our people from their malevolent influence."

After giving a solemn nod, Francesca stood up and left the room.

After she left the room, the venerated father said, "The recent appearance of the monster," and he sighed. "It may not be the end, and I believe it's just the beginning of a much larger threat."

"We should enslave these young men and women completely and bring them on our side so that they can be used as a powerful force when the time comes."

Brighton turned to the priest, who said, "As I always say, force won't work with these savages."

He walked to his chair, seating himself with a heavy sigh. "We have to show them that they can be free and will not be hated by the common folk."

"To make them believe that it was their duty to protect and serve the nation in which they were born, as well as to serve the king," Brighton continued, "and that is where Fracesca comes in, she will do just what we need."

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