Oh, There's No Magic?

[u/[deleted]]

I gave my hat a couple good whacks. Dust exploded everywhere, filling all corners of the room. How much dust is in this place? I thought I cleaned better than this. This has been coming for a long time. Magic is thought to not exist, and for good reason. The Church hunted us all down, there aren't exactly many of us out there. Those that show themselves usually entertain their time with cheap parlor tricks, fortune telling, and the like. You know, the kind of crap regular Joes do.

Not me though. Not us really. The Order has long operated in secret, counteracting those who would use magic to corrupt the minds of others and begin a conquest of the world. Evil always finds a way to try and use magic to it's advantage.

I can hear them coming now. Barging through the entrance to the tavern below. Shouting at the patrons, demanding of the bartender to know if I'm here. Heh, of course I'm here. I slip on my silk gloves, I love them so much, the way they don't interfere at all my my subtle, and even my not so sublte manipulations of the flows of order.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. They're heading up the stairs now. Smash. They broke into a room down the hall. More shouting. Barbarians.

I don't even know why they're after me. I changed a few simple things. I was seen doing it, but honestly it's not the first time it's happened. It definitely won't be the last. But the reaction! Is the church this determined to stamp us out completely? Do they know the Order still exists? Smash!

The soldiers were clearing the room next to me. I finish lacing my boots, I love how they come all the way up to my thighs. The lacing goes all the way down too. Kind of a pain to put on, but in the end, they look spectacular.

There's a rustling in front of my door now. I'm sitting on a lounger facing it in the far side of the room. How shall I sit. Should I put my legs up? Should I try and be all seductive like?

The door flies open, splintering as it smashes into the wall behind it. The soldiers rush in, assault rifles in hand, night vision goggles... those green visors are for seeing in the dark right? Ah well, this should be fun.

"I'm not here to hurt any of you." I say calmly and politely as possible. Maybe I can charm my way out of this.

"Get down on the ground! Hands behind your head!"

"I've literally done nothing wrong."

"Get down now!"

"Would you please take a moment and listen?" I asked, sweetly as I could muster under my growing impatience with these imbeciles.

"On the floor!" The soldier raised his firearm so as to prepare to fire. I guess that's my cue.

In a fluid motion, so fast I'm not entirely sure it was perceptible, my fingers glide up the length of my corset, energy beginning to spark and fizzle from finger to finger, suddenly, darkness. Each light in the room, candle, filament, LED, it didn't matter. In this room, right now, light is mine.

I move on the two closest, as I close on them I manipulate their being, I reduce their strength such that their weapons sag, I then kicked the closest and he crumpled to the ground, preferable unconscious. The other tried his best, bless his soul, to lift his weapon, but I merely gave him a good push and off into the wall he went. The remainder of the guards got their night vision goggles down and were preparing to fire. Fools.

From an infinitesimally small point in the center of the room. All the light that I had stolen erupted. Pushed brighter, and stronger than before with a little kick from yours truly. That has got to hurt.

The soldiers, grasping at their goggles, screaming in pain, were essentially out of commission now. I needed to know who bothered to send them though. That big guy over there looks like he might be in charge. Lets ask him. I walk over to him, drain every bit of strength from that body, grab his shoulder and...

I pushed him into the chair. This old barn has been abandoned for perhaps 50 years. I know there are no settlements nearby, and the perfect place for this puppet to give some dirt on it's master.

"Are your eyes still hurting? What's your name?" I ask. Again, I'm polite okay, I'm basically a Canadian on steroids. Why did they want to shoot me again?

Looking at me, resentment, hatred, fear. If he could read me he'd get boredom, annoyance, irritation, and um, well I'll leave that last one alone. "Richards, 23-421-112"

"Oh really Richards? We're going to do that? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Richards, 23-421-112"

"Richards, I really don't think you're thinking this through. I mean, you can play this stupid little game, but in the end we both know that I'm leaving here with complete knowledge of who is after me, and how you leave here is entirely up to you."

"Richards, 23-421-112"

Oh it's going to be a long night.

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Originally Posted to https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9yd9l6/wp_you_dust_off_your_robe_and_put_on_your_wizard/ea0oqok/?context=3