Page 5 of The Misfit Mage and His Dashing Devil

“We’ve done extensive studies. It’s merely Diabolic energy—thankfully contained and not harming anyone.”

Yeah, one of those studies should involve releasing a devil from these fucking orbs so I could give you a piece of my mind and express how inaccurate all your studies have been. Of course, right after I gutted Magus Remington like the worm he was. And then Walter for three years of endless prattling. It was worse than years of being ignored.

“I didn’t come here for a philosophic discussion on the semantics of Diabolics.” Magus Remington’s tone had shifted, light and filled with velvety charm. Something he had lacked when he was a whimpering young man coated in the blood of his fellows. How he’d grown since our encounter. “I was hoping you could retrieve an artifact from the vault for me.”

“The vault?” Walter practically squealed, scanning the still-empty repository like someone had magically arrived. “You want me to retrieve something by myself?”

Oh hell, he’d go on about this for weeks. Walter rarely had permission to go into the vault, and every time he went with an escort or alone, he returned with a thousand unsolicited stories about artifacts I didn’t want to learn about. This was worse than any Hell.

“I’d like you to bring Agatha’s Heart out and properly compile our findings here in the repository.”

“You want it in the repository for loan?” Walter asked, hesitant but craving clarification. Always needing to understand something entirely before making a move. “I thought witch relics weren’t supposed to be offered as support tools.”

Yes, so many artifacts stored in the repository by the archivist regiment were loaned out to aid other mage regiments like the vanguard and sentinels in their battles to maintain peace. Yet Walter should realize with my presence, many of these artifacts were merely meant to evoke an air of presence to add to Remington’s prestige.

“We won’t be loaning or displaying Agatha’s Heart,” Remington explained. “I’ve been in contact with a coven of her descendants who would like it returned to their care.”

“Of course,” Walter said. “You’ve been offering a lot of artifacts back to the Mythics lately.”

“It’s a good way to maintain a steady alliance with the Mythic Council,” Remington said. “Something not all Magi do. If it’s within my power, I will gladly empty our vault to ensure a brighter future for us all.”

Blah, blah, blah-biddy, blah. And Asshole Remington went on one of his tangents, discussing the importance of mages being ambivalent, maintaining peace with human and Mythic societies, all while respecting the unique cultures of each. Yada yada with a cherry on top of the garbage.

What was the reality of this peace? The Mythic and mage communities’ solution to humanity: hide the truth, never allowing the world to become aware of magic again. ‘Lest we return to the past, where Mythics were feared as monsters and mages were revered as gods’ or some shit. These decisions about secrecy came before my time, and I had a lot of centuries of living under my belt. Most of which were spent in this insufferable human realm.

Mages spoke highly of being the neutral power in the Mythic world yet did so by maintaining absolute authority. Not very neutral, in my opinion.

“When do you need Agatha’s Heart fully compiled?” Walter asked.

“I’d like it completed by tonight.”

“Tonight?” Walter gulped. “Does it need to be tonight?”

“Yes, but don’t concern yourself with anything else in your current queue. You can still leave on time.” Remington withdrew a pen from his suit pocket, writing symbols in the air. “And I’d be delighted if you joined me at the ceremony when it’s returned to the coven.”

“That would be incredible.” Walter’s eyes lit, half from the sheer delight of accompanying the Magus and half as he studied the old man’s easily formed incantation.

Remington handed the swiftly crafted incantation to Walter. Words conjured into the air through mana and pure will of thought, which now sat carefully on Walter’s palm containing a code to the vault only the Magus possessed. Walter scurried away, which left me a few hours of peace since he’d linger in the vault, exploring for hours.

Magus Remington studied his life’s work, a repository he hoped to empty. Though I held only a limited purview, I could see that the old man’s concern weighed heavily in his gaze. Something threatened this peace he’d carved in the state, the safe borders he’d cultivated. Perhaps in his decrepit condition, he worried that, whoever his successor was, they’d undo his nearly fifty years of toiling efforts. He should thank me more often. No one would’ve listened to an idealistic brat like him had he not gotten lucky and sealed me in here.

It explained why he’d entrusted this task to his dutiful little archivist apprentice. Most of the practitioners of this regiment were busy finding new artifacts to fill the repository to the brim; their sole purpose was to find, store, and preserve those magical riches. Also, it gave the archivist regiment power over the other regiments, loaning out ancient Mythic tools on a whim. Possessing total authority on powers only their regiment could fully utilize.

The bulb’s flicker drew Remington’s attention, and he approached. “Work orders have been so sluggish as of late. I do hope it hasn’t bothered you too much, Beelzebub.”

Irksome old bastard. If I could grind my teeth, I’d sink them in his jugular this instant.

“Not to worry, though. I intend to have you tucked in the deepest depths of the vault soon enough. Maybe your eternal slumber there will be more peaceful.” Remington turned for the exit. “More than a Diabolic as deceitful as yourself deserves.”

He knew nothing about me. Nothing about Diabolics, from the demons who served to the devils who reigned. Yet such was life. I was vilified in the carefully crafted narrative mages and Mythics painted.

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Walter

Everything in the vault held such captivating intrigue. Dim lights maintained perfect illumination for all the hidden treasures placed on aisles that stretched for miles. Glittering rocky walls created an illusion of a room in this infinitely endless space conjured through Fae magics. I could spend the entire night here. The entire weekend. Week. Month.

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