The Prince Of Magic

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Feeling the need to say something to the long haired assassin, Hadrian spoke to Yan and Kieran via telepathy.

'Try not to go overboard, you two.' The young mage advised.

In unison, the two retainers glanced over their shoulders to him, subtle enough that the recipient of their 'amus.e.m.e.nt' didn't caught onto.

'Eh, why not?' Kieran asked, frowning.

'I second that. Why not, master? We need to resort to more… intense methods if this guy won't tell us anything after asking him questions?' Yan elaborated.

'That is true, but he won't be much of use to us if you go overboard with it. A captive overwhelmed with too much fear would not be so cooperative and often rendered difficult to get answers from. Also, have you forgotten who I am? Or specifically, what I have?' Hadrian returned calmly, lifting a brow as he tapped his left temple with an index finger, silently implying to the ancient artifact residing deep in his soul.

Catching onto his meaning, Yan nodded his head with a resigned sigh.

'Fine…' The assassin huffed, acquiescing to his demand.

'Can I at least torture this useless meatbag to my heart's content?' Kieran said, politely asking for permission to slake his thirst for violence.

'No.' Hadrian deadpanned, sending the retainer a stern look.

'Blowtorch his skin?'

'No.'

'Pull out his teeth, one by one?'

'No.'

'Cut off his ba–'

'Hell no to that, and whatever it is that you'll say next.' Hadrian cut in abruptly, giving the amber eyed retainer an irritated look.

'C'mon, just a little! I wanna see him squirm!' Kieran complained, almost whining.

'Kieran, you heard what master said. We can't go overboard.' Yan sighed.

Slowly, Kieran turned his head to Yan, amber eyes squinting in reproach before scoffing.

'I don't wanna hear that from you, of all people.' Kieran huffed, crossing his arms over his c.h.e.s.t.

Yan's brow twitched in annoyance.

'The hell's that supposed to mean?'

'Last time you 'interrogated' someone, didn't you almost stabbed them in the d.i.c.k after they didn't yield and refused to answer any of your questions? Ironic of you to stop me from having fun, ya hypocritical bastard.' Kieran said with a sneer.

'And might I remind you who had 'fun' in talking shit 'bout me behind my back? How that happened, huh, ya dumb motherf.u.c.ka?' Yan returned through gritted teeth.

The assassin was smiling, but his eyes were blank and unamused.

Just as the two were about to rumble, Hadrian had decided to interrupt their trash-talking contest before it could go on any further.

'Alright, enough you two. Focus on our main task today, I think your captive has already recovered enough to answer your questions.' The young mage pointed out, causing the two retainers to stop and look to where the accountant was restrained.

Like a deer on headlights, John's blue eyes widened as he realized his captors' attention was upon him once again.

Had enough of being playful, Yan Qing's lime green eyes narrowed as he directed a small amount of killing intent to his hostage, causing John to freeze up and stare at him in fear and confusion.

"Now, John…" Yan almost paused as he haltingly recalled the target's name and bit of information that his master had relayed to him earlier. "Seems like you've recovered enough from this guy's attention. I sincerely hope that you intend to answer our questions as truthfully as you can. Because, really, that's the only way that you can survive and live to see another day. Lie to us or resist, following through both options will not end well for you. Do we understand each other?

Shakily, John nodded after a loud gulp and beads of sweat appearing on his temple by the sudden pressure of his captors' glare.

"So, let's start with your name." Kieran said, staring down the accountant.

"Jo-Jonathan Winston." The man said, stuttering a little.

Feeling a bit brave, the accountant continued.

"Wait, why am I here? And who are you people?" John asked, brows knitted in thought.

Restraining himself from grabbing the mere man by the hair and slam his head down against the pavement, a somewhat reflexive habit that he gained to educate morons via brute force, Yan took a deep breath to calm himself before speaking again.

"Who we are does not matter, and I believe I've told you before, we ask the questions here, not you." The assassin reminded, sending John a cold glare that caused the latter to go pale. "As for why you are here, it's because you ventured into an area forbidden by the local authorities in this country."

By his statement, John blinked.

"Huh? Are you from the gov–"

*SHING*

Before he could finish his question, a polished silver combat knife sang for his neck, only stopping by mere centimeters away from John's skin, who immediately went silent once he realized his current situation. Lifting his gaze upwards, his startled blue eyes met the murderous gaze of a certain amber eyed retainer, who held the combat knife at his throat.

It might also be the fear playing with his mind, but John saw something black and sinister crawling its way up to the tanned skin man's face.

"If you haven't noticed your situation yet, then let me remind you with this. If you ask another useless question that we have no care for, or talk again without prompt from either of us, I will make you feel pain that's beyond your imagination. In other words, your death won't be quick and peaceful in my hands if you annoy the f.u.c.k outta me again. Got that, wretch?" Kieran warned, his voice distorting deeply, bordering on inhumane as he uttered the last part.

After a few moments of being stared down by the two retainers, John slowly nodded his head, fear clear on his face as he did so.

The retainer then back up from his previous position, scoffing as he saw the accountant breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Now, next question, John. Why are you in that building?" Yan asked, continuing where he left off.

"I… I was searching for clues." John said in a submissive tone.

"Clues for what?" Kieran asked next.

"My sister, she's missing, you see." Seeing the looks on their faces, John began to elaborate. "She was in Paris for a two-week long vacation. The last I heard of her was when we talked over the phone, telling me about the places she had visited. It's already been a week that she didn't come home."

"Now you think she's missing. I suppose that makes sense." Yan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah…" John nodded, a solemn look in his eyes as he continued. "I hired a good PI (Private Investigator) to retrace her steps, and what he found led me to that building."

"And did you found something there?" Yan asked.

"I did. It's inside the pocket of my blazer." John said, gesturing to the spot with his eyes.

With a silent look to Kieran, Yan gave a nod to him, implying for him to get the stuff.

Huffing, Kieran moved into action, but not before warning their hostage.

"Ya better not think of biting my ear or something. I'll mess you up if you even try." Kieran said with a wide-eyed stare of intimidation.

Shuddering, John shook his head frantically.

"No! No, I won't!" He denied.

Kieran did not look reassured as he merely gave the accountant a stern glare, making the latter sweat a little in his restraints.

After a few moments or so, the retainer finally moved, albeit slowly and warily as he gave the accountant a look while he fished for the item in the pocket of his blazer.

Snatching the item just in time, Hadrian pulled it close to take a closer look at it.

There were letters, curled and tied into one black ribbon, and one white envelope with small card inside that seems to be an invitation of sorts.

Holding the rolled up letters in one hand, Hadrian opened the envelope and took out the card.

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Dear Mr. Tusk,

Due to your great credentials, I believe I have a valid place for you in the halls of my academy.

I would be delighted to hear more from you, and your final decision to my offer.

Sincerely,

The Headmistress of Beauxbaton, Academy of Magic

Olympe Maxime

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…

The contents of the letter were written in an elegant cursive, painted in a deep blue ink.

But it was the name written at the bottom that caught Hadrian's attention.

Whoever the letter was written for, particularly this 'Mr. Tusk', he obviously has magic heritage and was talented enough to be offered a chance to become a member of her staff in the academy.

Discovering such a clue means that his grandfather's hint was spot on.

He would need to find out more about whoever this 'Mr. Tusk' is, but his next objective was clear.

Go to Beauxbatons, find 'Tusk', and capture him.

Which reminds him…

'Yan, did you do a full search of the building?' Hadrian asked via telepathy.

'This warehouse?'

'No, the one that you found John in.'

'Ah, that one? Yes, I did. It was a quick one though.' Yan said thoughtfully.

'What did you find in there? Did you find anything peculiar?'

'Now that you mentioned it… yes, there is.' Yan hummed in thought.

'What is it?'

'There was a small camp set up in the 13th floor. Bunch of trash too, but the camp seemed to be in poor conditions already.'

'Meaning, the owner had probably moved to another area.' Hadrian finished.

'Yeah…' Yan agreed.

'Think Arash would be able to find traces of the owner?'

'We can ask him later, but I doubt it, really.' Yan shrugged.

'Still, pretty careless of them to leave those letters that even a dipshit like him would find it.' Kieran stated as he nodded his chin to the confused-looking John.

Hadrian hummed, tapping the arm of his chair in thought.

'Were there no magical barriers left in that building, Yan?'

'No, none. Just that same ominous energy on the spot where the victims died. But that was on a different floor.' Yan added as an afterthought.

'If so, then perhaps this 'Tusk' is not as talented as what the Headmistress thought he is.' Hadrian thought with a frown.

'What'dya mean, boss?' Kieran asked, looking a bit confused.

'There's a letter of invitation here from the Headmistress of Beauxbatons.' Hadrian replied with a sigh.

'Wait, isn't that –'

'The magical academy I'm about to transfer into? Yes, yes it is.' Hadrian confirmed. 'Anyways, this 'Tusk' might be the one that would lead us to Prelati. All that needs to be done now is for me to transfer to Beauxbatons, find this man, and capture him for interrogation.'

'Why not find him before he can get to that place?' Kieran asked, curious.

'And find him where? We'll only be doing a goose chase if we try to search for him now. Better to meet him at the location where he is surely to appear on his own. Perhaps we can even lay a trap for him to make it the shortest appearance in the history of wicked people like Prelati. Of course, it would be unwise not to approach this carefully. It's a possibility that these letters might be bait that he left on purpose, and lure us to wherever he is.' Hadrian mused with a huff.

'Hmm… don't underestimate him then.'

'Got it.'

The two retainers shared a brief glance and smirks by their master's statement.

But that reminds them…

'Soooo, what now?' Kieran asked.

'Yeah, what do we do with stupid here now that we already got what we want?' Yan added, glancing briefly to the oblivious John.

Pausing, Hadrian tilted his head as he ran that question through his mind.

Indeed, what should be done with the human who has no magical heritage to protect him from the horrors of Prelati and his ilk?

Whoever this 'Tusk' is, there's a high probability that he is the link that Hadrian and his retainers are looking for.

But, John Winston, despite having no magic heritage, might be in danger if he tries to follow through his own solo investigation.

'He would die if he continues any further. Perhaps a compromise should be made…' Hadrian mused as he stared at the accountant, who answered the retainers' inquiries genuinely now that he knew that he won't be hurt if he tells them the truth.

Nodding to himself, Hadrian opened the telepathic link he has with Kieran and Yan.

'Yan, make a deal with John.' The young mage instructed.

'What do I say?' The assassin asked, ready to comply with his command.

'Tell him that we will work with him on finding his sister. In return, he should stop looking into the owner of these letters.'

'What if he refuses? You know how stubborn useless meatbags can get if they don't get their way.' Kieran reminded in a knowing tone.

'Then tell him that he'll surely die if he remains steadfast on this matter. Not by our hands, but by the local authorities of the wizarding world and, highly likely, by Tusk's hand if he manages to find him somehow. The ministries of magic do not care for those with non-magical heritage. If he gets captured, he'll be rid of his memories and live the rest of his life akin to a rotten vegetable. And if he gets noticed by Tusk, then his life is also cut short. He'll likely die a slow death. If he cooperates with us, at least he'll be safe and won't have a target on his back.' Hadrian explained.

Yan and Kieran could not help but grimace slightly at the bluntness in their master's tone.

The way he delivered the explanation was calm, but deadly on its own.

It was akin as to how a sharp knife would make its smooth way to an enemy's heart – a critical hit, that is.

Shrugging, the two retainers began to relay the things that their master had told them.

Of course, John made his protests here and there, but eventually wilted at the thought of imminent death if he ventures on the matter on his own.

Perhaps it was Hadrian's subtle activation of magic that caused the man to believe that there was more to the world than meets the eye.

Even though his form was shrouded in the shadows, the accountant could not deny that he can feel something strange about the person with crimson eyes, something that was a bit alluring to experience (an idle observation that he would only admit to himself) but not entirely human.

But the object of his odd fascination was not paying him any attention.

No, Hadrian's gaze was no longer on him but to the right.

The direction of where the young mage can feel a battle between two servants had begun.

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