by A Uscila
“You think I’ll just stay quiet and suffer this smear campaign?” – He spat out, thought gritted teeth.
Which triggered a bout of laughter from Dave, heck, even Barbara’s high-pitched giggling reached Luke’s ears, as he observed the scene with annoyance.
“Oh Luke, what’s there to smear? Are you that daft?”- Dave asked once the laughter started dying out – “There’s nothing left to smear! People despise you, they feel disgusted by you. There’s probably not a single person here who thinks favorably of you!” – He continued, a few guffaws interrupting the speech every now and again – “Even if there was, I’d like to see you defend against a sexual harassment claim while we have the victim” – Dave brushed away a tear that slipped out from all that laughter and leaned back into his seat - slowly, taking his time in finding the most comfortable position. So casual were his movements, that they almost seemed intentionally portrayed, as if a visual metaphor for the current circumstance. After all, it was highly unlikely that Dave would need to put in any effort at all into getting Luke fired.
“But she’s lying!” – Luke expressed adamantly – “and broke my god damn phone for no reason, to boot!” – Still unwilling to accept reality, or simply blind to it. Willingly or not.
Before Barbara could protest, and she did want to, judging by how her eyebrows furrowed, mouth opening slightly as if to speak, Dave seemed to beat her to the finish-line.
“You think I care if she is?! I needed just one complaint from inside the company. Just one! And now I have it and there’s nothing you can do about it, Luke. You’re out. Whether you want it or not, whether it’s fair or not, it doesn’t matter!” – Finally, Dave’s true self broke through as he proclaimed in a loud voice, finishing it up with a dismissive swipe of the hand, while staring back at the accused with eyes blazing with righteous fury. Hell, maybe even joy, ecstatic in his celebration of victory.
Taken aback, literally, Luke stared back at the human resources representative – mouth opening up, as if to say something, only to close soon after. He turned to look at Barbara searchingly, only to receive a venomous glare right back.
“Stop looking at me, it’s disgusting” – was all she had to say, as she leaned away and covered herself up.
A moment of silence, a last glance at Dave and a heavy sigh left Luke’s lips. Slowly, he got up, gave Barbara, who was still busy covering herself up for god only knows what reason, one last look. His eyebrows furrowed, features tensed up from the sight, as if that was enough to stir something up within Luke.
“Oh good god, you’re not even that good looking, you god damn garden gnome!” – He shouted with exasperation, only to turn towards the exit.
“Garden gnome?!” – She shouted with outrage – “How am I a garden gnome!?” – Yet the association seemed to stick, enough to get a reaction. His last shot fired. One last point to even out the score board.
“Don’t listen to what he says. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times. He’s just frustrated over being fired” – Before Luke could turn back and do a follow-up, Dave’s voice reached his ears.
“It’s because you’re short, colorful and hollow inside!” – Luke shot back angrily, only to step out of the office and slam the door behind, before anything could be said back.
Was that childish of him? Probably.
Did it feel good?
Luke’s crooked smile, as he stomped off with energetic movements, spoke for itself.
*******
An intangible heaviness loomed over the sparsely lit chamber, while the sun’s invasive light traced along the stone floor – its’ rays seeping through holes in the chamber’s rounded walls. Circular it was, a large wooden table placed in the middle of it, a pair of empty chairs placed before it and one occupied behind. A dark figure slumped upon it – silent and unmoving, face buried in one hand. Time passed and as the echoes of the bustle outside bounced off the chamber’s walls, the sun’s rays traveled ever deeper inside, till finally - the light reached the slumped figure. Slowly, it crawled over robes as black as a villain’s heart, limbs as thin as bone – while the skin stretched over them looked paler than the moon itself. Yet the true horror appeared when the rays finally reached the figure’s facial features – a twisted grimace that would make children weep…
“Oh god damn it” – With an angry flourish, Wail shot up and away from the annoying light – “Can’t even sulk in piece, without someone or something interrupting!” – He shouted to no one in particular, his back now turned to the sun’s warm touch.
“And what, do tell, are you moping about? Your abysmal social skills?” – As if the devil herself, Willow entered the chamber just at the right time, sweeping her loose hair back with a flourish of a delicate hand, lips twisting into a smirk.
“Oh keep it for another time, I’m not in the mood” – Wail barked.
“When are you ever?” – Willow mocked, yet continued on till her behind was neatly tucked onto one of the two free chairs. She crossed her legs – black leather stretched tout against fine thighs, and leaned against the chair’s back, eyes glued to the moping magician – “Well? What’s haunting you?”
“What gave you the idea that I want to share?” – Wail shot back with a glare, as he stood with arms crossed behind the table as if it was some safety barrier.
“How about all that shouting and whining that’s hard to miss?” – Willow attempted, a delicate finger placed against her chin. Clearly, the comment didn’t sit well with Wail, as he was about to throw in a rebuttal. Willow beat him to it, of course – “Or how about the fact that you’ve been sulking here for the whole day like a little kid, crying for attention?” – She added quite viciously, the smirk now replaced by a frown – “Thus here I am, ready to listen, as your highness wished. So how about you quit the childish antics and spit it out?”
Eyes wide and frozen in place, Wail could only gape at the sudden avalanche of frankness, his features shifting between complete bewilderment and anger, only to eventually settle on abject surrender. With a heavy sigh, Wail slumped back into his chair, eyes turning to longingly look through a window. Sadly, the dramatic end was somewhat ruined, since the absentminded warlock turned his gaze towards the window, through which the sun was peeking in. A flinch and a curse later, Wail turned his back to the sun and stared out the window on the opposite side of the chamber.
“Well?” – Willow crossed her arms.
“I was fired from my job” – He simply stated, after a brief pause, eyes unable to meet Willows own.
“What? Why? Did you go to work with your casual clothes?” – She leaned towards the warlock slightly, as the questions were raised in a surprised tone.
“What does my casual clothing have to do with it?!” – The usual fire seemed to finally spark in the warlock as he turned towards the vexing female with a glare, his raised voice echoing off the chamber’s walls.
“More like, what don’t they have to do with it…” – Willow mumbled to herself after turning her head to the side.
“No, damn it. I was fired after being accused of sexual harassment” – Wail growled, clearly still agitated by Willows insistence over his poor taste in clothes. Yet the anger seemed to scatter as soon as Willow turned her gaze back at him with a sudden twist of the neck – the stare uncommonly piercing and seemingly serious.
“Wail. Why didn’t you tell me?” – Willow asked with furrowed brows.
“Didn’t tell you wha-“ – Wail attempted to inquire.
“If I’d have known that you’re so sexually frustrated over being near me, I would have helped…” – She continued in a worried tone, without letting him finish, her eyebrows angled sadly.
“I’m what? I’m not…wait…what?” – Dumbfounded, Wail stuttered in reply, clearly lost on which part to address first – “I didn’t harass anyone! It was a false accusation!” – He suddenly shouted, a palm smacking the wooden table in front.
“Wail, you don’t need to be e
mbarrassed, I understand everything. Look, let’s just log out and meet up for a cup of tea, I’m sure we can…” – Yet Willow seemed set on her conclusion as she attempted to soothe Wail’s fuming.
“I’m not lying, damn it! I may be an ugly, angry, good-for-nothing that nobody would ever want to interact with, but I would never stoop so low as to sexually harass someone! My pride is all I have left and I refuse to discard it!” – Like a storm, Wail raged, the sudden confrontation seemingly opening up doors that would have never been pried open in other circumstance. His chest heaving and hands shaking, Wail stepped away from the table and started pacing back and forth, clearly agitated by the conversation.
Eyes wide open, mouth agape, Willow could only stay put, frozen – gaze following the pacing magician.
“I swear, why does everyone assume the worst whenever they…” – he mumbled, only to stop when Willow suddenly approached him – grabbing onto his hands, the grip tightening when the startled warlock recoiled at the physical contact.
“I want to interact with you” – She suddenly said, while staring into Wail’s eyes unblinkingly.
“What..?” – Wail mumbled, taken aback.
“Who cares if everyone else avoids you? Who cares if you got fired from your job? I’m here, Wail. I’m here” – She finished up, her palm settling onto Wail’s already held hand warmly.
A moment of silence, a moment of stillness, as two pairs of eyes inquisitively stared off into one another – looking for who knows what. One pair filled with uncharacteristic care and warmth and the other full of doubt and fright.
With a sudden flourish, Wail pulled his limbs free and glared at Willow, whose features now twisted into genuine surprise.
“Who cares?! I do! That was my only source of income, how the heck am I supposed to support my game time without one!?” – He shouted angrily.
“What? But what about your videos?” – Yet even now, Willow seemed desperate to guide Wail away from his anger management issues.
“What videos?! The only thing I get from those are accusations of plagiarism!” – Yet the anger did not seem bent on settling so easily.
“Plagiarism against whom?” – She asked with a raised eyebrow.
“You!” – The warlock threw his hands into the air out of pure outrage, only to twist around and start pacing again – “Apparently I’m stealing and reposting the same content that is being released by a certain female. Heck, they even say that I have the nerve to film it from another perspective without your permission!”
“Well don’t go blaming me for it! It’s not my fault that your content is shit! I told you to edit it, before posting!” – Finally, the vixen’s good will seemed to crack, as the contagious anger cough on.
“Shit?! Bah!” – And so, the emotional moment was over as the conversation between the two degraded into a series of shouts and curses.
Luckily, before they could rip each other’s throats out, a guest tip-toed into the chamber, announcing his presence with a cough. A small fellow both in stature and presence, yet an indispensable existence to Wail and his outlaw fortress. Scruff.
“What?!” – Like peas in a pot, the two turned to the new guest in an energetic twist of their necks, the question shouted in unison.
“You t-told me to r-return once it’s c-complete…lord” - Startled, Scruff explained, hands clutching a rolled up parchment.
“Ah, Timmy...” – Wail began, his attention completely captivated by the underling, feet already taking him back behind the desk.
“Scruff” – The newly-arrived curtly added.
“Yes yes, whatever. Hand it over” – Yet was met with a backhanded wave, as the warlock extended a hand towards the parchment expectantly, completely ignorant of anything else around. A gesture that was satisfied post-haste – the lusted-for item snatched away greedily the second the opportunity was provided by good ol’ Scruff.
“What’s that?” – Prone to similar levels of abrupt swings in emotion and interest, Willow’s anger seemed to melt away as soon as Wail’s did, her eyes now glued to the coveted parchment, which Wail unfolded upon the desk with great interest.
“It’s a detailed financial report of our operations here, which I drew up as soon as Lord asked for one…” – Scruff explained.
“Not detailed enough!” – Wail’s hands slammed against the desk loudly, the parchment stuck in-between, while his exclamation interrupted poor Scruff – “I told you I want to know everything! I don’t see the value of our intangible assets! I want to see everything that can be turned into gold!”
“B-but I can only calculate it approximately…” – Scruff weakly attempted, the excuse barely even reaching the bandit overlord through all that radiating ego.
“Well then do it! I need to have a clear picture of what we’ve created here, so that I could decide how to proceed…” – Wail continued, the unreasonable demand pushed into the poor underlings arms one-sidedly.
“Don’t tell me you’re planning on selling everything off to fund your addictions...” – Willow inquired, her eyes narrowing down as she regarded the magician as if attempting to evaluate how deep his greed ran.
“What addictions? What nonsense! Do you even realize what kind of goldmine I’m sitting on here? A workforce that only needs the barest of necessities to be in working condition? A population that takes what it needs and nothing else, all the while working practically for free and motivated by the pursuit of the well-being of their home? It’s a utopia!” – Wail explained with elation, hands shooting up into the air at the last phrase.
“I believe that discreetly sounds like communism…” – Scruff mumbled with a light frown – a surprising and rare display of displeasure that Wail, as observant of others as always, completely missed.
“Oh please. I’d need to kill off a third of the population to satisfy the conditions for that label” – Instead, he casually brushed off the comment with a dismissing wave of the hand.
“Will you?” – Willow intervened with raised eyebrows.
“What? Am I crazy? I already have all the control I need! They worship me!” – Appalled by the suggestion, the magician stood up and took a step away from the table, an almost hurt expression morphing into contemplation as the man turned his gaze away from the ever alluring vixen.
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as calling it worship…” – Futilely, she attempted to pull the delusional warlock back to Earth.
“Just look at what they created in my name. My legacy…” – Yet it seemed to fall on deaf ears as the warlock’s mind drifted off to the dream land of self-absorbed delusions, his steps taking him to the nearest window, through which he gazed longingly.
A fortress city sprawled beneath, clearly visible in all its’ glory from Wail’s position – the highest tower of the inner keep, a cliché that simply demanded to be realized. For no self-respecting dark overlord would lower themselves to living on the same level, be it metaphorical or literal, as the rest. Their ego wouldn’t allow it.
Walls of fused stone rose high around the inner keep and its’ interior – a feat made possible with the help of skilled geomancers working day and night, their job made easier by constructing a standard stone-slab wall before-hand. Even though it wasn’t possible to see from the current window, the protective barrier was shaped into a neat square, a hulking tower placed at each corner – peculiar wooden contraptions present on each one. There was only one road to and from the inner sanctum – protected by an over-constructed gatehouse that did not fall-short when comparing to the towers, its’ upper parts littered with firing holes, the interior, without a doubt, hiding a myriad of deadly traps for any who would challenge the iron-grated gates that were currently pulled up.
With a childish glitter, Wail observed the recently finished inner-fortifications, eyes shifting over the brown-tiled roofs that huddled behind the towering protection. Most were dwellings of pale, morphed stone, built almost identical to each other – compact, yet
functional and comfortable enough to live. Two-story as well, which did help with saving space. Some provided other services instead of being residential – a good chunk of them discharging billowing smoke from chimneys that hinted at some industrial function.
Beyond this neat interior and beyond the stone walls lay a forest of wooden shacks and houses – the part of the town that has yet to see renovation, with only a few buildings that looked much tidier and pleasant to live in peeking out here and there – most in a circle around the inner fortifications, as if progress was being made from the center and spreading outwardly bit by bit.
A wooden palisade surrounded the huddled shacks for protection, a tower popping out from it in regular intervals, only to be interrupted by gates that were currently gaping open and seeing heavy traffic over the bridge that could be seen through the breach. Numerous carts and wagons moved back and forth over it, together with a mass of people that squeezed their way between and around the wheeled transports – some with casual clothing, while others seemed to be armed to the teeth, yet everyone seemed to be busy with their daily lives, their strides clearly purposeful.
What waited beyond the palisade, even though unseen from Wails current position, was a deep ditch, dug around and creating a steep slope – a light stream waiting at the bottom, creating a muddy hell that sucked at whatever was caught within it. All those previous fortifications built before were now razed and flattened, creating a field of even ground that stretched out far into the horizon – till it met the forest that still surrounded his land. Some parts were turned into wide fields of farmland – the demand for it ever greater, due to the steeply rising population. A population that needed to be fed now and tomorrow and even in a siege – which meant bigger silos and a bigger demand for stockpiling and rationing. A true logistic nightmare. Good thing that Wail need not be bothered by it, since there were other people present that could be used for such annoying tasks. With that thought, he turned towards Scruff.
