Stepping into his kitchen, Richard stretched them let loose a yawn. Walking over to the refrigerator, he pulled a couple items out. These were the groceries he had purchased on his way back after his encounter with the crazy police officer.
Thinking about the whole debacle made his shake his head and sigh...
Having lost his parents at a young age, Richard had grown up to be rather self sufficient. He could cook many dishes without any assistance decently in his own opinion.
These were life skills he had picked up when he was younger.
"Although, getting a girl to do these types of things would be nice." Richard mumbled to himself with a smile.
He enjoyed cooking, but sometimes, he wished he could just relax on the bed, after a night of intense passion and have a meal delivered to him by a beauty.
Thinking back to the woman he had had a brief 'entanglement' with a while ago, Richard couldn't help but shake his head woefully.
"Such is my life, I guess. The lonesome life of a Sorcerer. How did my old man manage to pull it off?" Some mysteries could only be solved through accumulated knowledge and experience.
After prepping his ingredients and instruments, Richard began cooking his dinner.
To some, cooking could be a past time activity, a means to let time roll by. To others, it could be a chore, something they despise. And to a very few minority, it was a religion. A sacred act that should be taken very seriously...
Richard personally believed that the art of cooking touched upon all three...
A few minutes later, a delicious yet simple meal of steak and potatoes, cooked in beef fat, accompanied by a sauce and a can of cola.
Staring at the delectable spread, Richard felt a sense of overwhelming pride rush over him.
"Not shabby at all..."
Digging in, Richard allowed the flavors to marry on his tongue for a while before devouring the meal with a haste that would leave the carnivores of the wild in awe.
Satisfied, Richard leaned in on his seat, his can of carbonated liquid swishing every so slightly.
After a few minutes of sitting still, Richard frowned. With a sigh, he got up on his feet and began walking...
He walked up the stairs, and even past his room. Until he was on the uppermost floor of the mansion.
Throwing a set of doors open, he walked into a very wide veranda. A few clay pots sat there, the corpses of the once beautiful flowers and vines they once held holding form into the dried soil.
Richard paid them no mind...
Night had long since descended upon the city. Dazzling neon lights filled the air, providing a faint illumination through the downtown area of the city.
Streetlights lined the streets providing the light that couldn't reach the earth from the moon and the stars thanks to the thick clouds overhead. Faint rumbles of thunder reverberated through the sky in the distance.
'Looks like a storm is coming.'
All this combined together to create a surreal environment that couldn't be recreated at any other place.
It was dreary, solemn and dark, and to top it off, there was a person dressed in all black standing on his veranda.
Richard was calm. After all, this wasn't the first time a Midnight Messenger had come to him.
"Carrion." Richard said with a slight bow.
In his mind though, 'Why the hell are they called Midnight Messengers if they never show up at midnight? Just doesn't make sense...'
The Midnight Messenger's voice was horrendously sinister. Like the cold feeling one gets when walking through the streets at night, aware something is watching...
"Master Richard of Bane."
'Hm... A crawly, slimy feeling indeed...'
Richard shrugged off his apprehension rather quickly.
Without saying a thing more, the Midnight Messenger, also referred to as Carrion, pulled out a red envelope, seemingly out of nowhere.
It walked forward, the handed it over to him,
"The Evil Hand has asked me to deliver this message. I hope it finds you in good health."
Richard chuckled, "That doesn't sound too good."
Shaking his head woefully, Richard ripped the envelope open and took the letter out.
His eyes quickly skimming through it for a few seconds, he nodded slightly. A sparkling up under his fingertips, and the letter was them engulfed in flames unto it turned to ash.
"I see..." Richard said, dusting his hands.
"I purpose here has been fulfilled." Carrion said eeriely. Turning around, its body merged into the darkness and vanished.
Richard clicked his tongue, "Creepy asshole."
He went over the content of the letter in his head.
Apparently, he not only had to report to the branch office on Monday, he also had to observe an orientation for all new receipts into the Circle.
The Circle is made up of many powerful families. As such, those born into these families were automatically a part of the Circle. But freelance Sorcerers couldn't join in unless them passed a series of tests and screenings.
While it did seem unfair, that was just the way of the world of magic. Those born with talent are destined to climb on the bodies of those that are less qualified. Rarely are the roles ever reversed.
Having been dropped away by the Bane family, Richard was technically no longer a part of the Circle. As such, he had to go through these tests in order to become a member again.
Though thanks to his Grandpa, he managed to avoid a crap load of stress...
Richard chuckled, 'Thanks grandpa.'
That was just one part of the letter though. The other part basically was introducing him to the things he would have to do as a new member and a title bearing 'Watcher of the South'.
That was in no way just a fancy title. In the city, there were five major groups of Sorcerers from the Circle. The South, West, East, North, and Central.
Each one was headed by a leader known as a 'Watcher'.
Apparently, the former Watcher of the South had gotten his organs eviscerated after an unlucky encounter with a Fiend Rank Demon.
'What an unfortunate way to go out.' Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.
According to the letter, he was the new Watcher of the South. Meaning he was going to have to lead this team, coordinating the Underworld of the South side of the City.
'In other words, dirty work...'
Walking down the stairs, Richard was lost in thought. He would have preferred to work alone, but Baxter was really trying to push it.
Still, this didn't mean he would always need to work with his other teammates.
All information of occultic activity came from the Circle.
If there was a mission to be taken care of, they could be assigned as personal, or group missions. It was Richard's job to oversee that these missions were carried out with the least amount of casualties possible.
Plopping down onto a sofa, he tilted his head back. Gazing into the radiant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, he let his mind drift again.
After a while of pondering over and over, he face up...
'No use overthinking about it. What will be, will be.'
Having accepted his fate with a wry smile, Richard chose to go to bed.
Before he fell asleep, he decided to have a chat with one of his Demons. Ironically, this was one of the ways he could preserve his mental health. Having conversations with beings that would not hesitate for a moment to rip him apart the moment he loosened their shackles for even a second.
A voice that was as soothing as it was sinister appeared in his mind.
Closing his eyes, a mental image of the Heart Demon appeared in his mind.
A heart Demon is the definition of harrowing beauty, as one would say. Absolutely vile creatures that feed off the blood and vitality of humans and other unsuspecting creatures.
'My, oh my~ My dearest Richard. Why do you summon me on this night? It couldn't be that your desires have awakened, could it? I think we can work something out even though I currently lack a physical body~'
Shaking his head, Richard gave her bonus points for effort.
"Cupid, I have some questions to ask..." Richard said, completely ignoring the initial monologue.
The Heart Demon sighed, 'Ask away. However, I cannot guarantee that my words will be truthful.'
The razor sharp teeth under her beautiful plump lips were revealed as she bared them in a grin,
'After all, we Demons are known to lie quite often.'
Richard sighed. Another problem one might frequently encounter when dealing with evil beings from hell;
Theor ungodly love for telling lies...
Richard didn't even know what to think of it at this point. Was it a gimmick only know and found funny by the denizens of hell, or was it some sort of primal urge they couldn't resist? He had no clue, and probably never will...
Richard felt a little tired, but fought back against the sleep.
After a moment of pause, he spoke to the Demon...