1868-08-19: Bad Candles - Candles most wick(ed)
Title
Summary: Mattias finds something odd relating to fire…
Date: 1868-08-19
Related: The Sealing of Rikton and the Awakening in Tirth.
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Mattias  

Seated within his office, secure within the foretress like confines of his banking house, Mattias sat and stared at the door leading out into the corridor beyond. The door was in itself sturdy and would take a good few men a good while indeed to break through should it be so locked. The thought of such a last stand, though brief, did ensure that his gaze flitted to the loaded hand cannon placed neatly upon his desk. There were more enemies now. Rikton and Kentaire amongst them most likely, though Mattias did smile at the measured thought that he was just as bad an enemy for them to have.

Even as Mattias sat there, for once just letting the running of his bank and the City State drift by, the idle swirls of heat from his cup of kaffe rose towards the ceiling, sat there pondering. He knew all too well that the previous Chancellor was perhaps doing his best, perhaps Kentaire and Rikton would have protected this great and free hub of trade, though Mattias doubted it. Frederick had almost assuredly set about the end of any true independence. For once Galenthia and Aequor fall, then there is little to stop those two small, insidious, yet powerful entities from doing their damndest to ensure all other powers bend their knee.

Mattias slowly rose from his chair and paused, a frown etched briefly across his otherwise serene features, "Truly?" The pause gave way to a grimace as he reached forward and grasped the edge of his desk for support. The pain was like fire shooting through his veins, sharp, stabbing, the pain lancing along his left arm, "Natural causes… I'll be the first Thynne to manage such a feat." The grimace was followed by a tensing of muscle and sinew, his heavy gold chain of office slipped over his left shoulder as he hunched and bit down upon his cheek as he sought to refrain from giving the pain the satisfaction of forcing a noise from his lips.

Blood trickled past his lips instead, a gutteral grunt was soon followed by another searing bolt of pain, so severe it caused him to lash out in a moment of anger, his cup of kaffe was flung from the desk, caught by the back of his hand. The fine porcelain shattered against the wall, spreading drizzling and bitter kaffe down towards the floor. Yet Mattias was damned if he'd be found before he was truly dead. There was a certain dignity to uphold. And with a searing blast of pain, the Chancellor arched and stumbled towards the door. Sweat beading upon his brow, the damned exertion making him feel like he was burning up, that damned pain in his arm, both arms… throughout…

With the blood trickling freely down his chin, Mattias slumped against the door with a leaden thud, his gloved hand positively twitching with fiery pain as he fumbled, numb and gasping for breath, pushing each of the heavy bolts home. Each one an effort in itself, each one ensuring a good hour or so of weighted axes hacking through dense wood to find his corpse. Yes, he'll make them work for the pleasure of finding him dead. At least he had ended Frederick, for all the bad he had done, all in the name of a successful and safe Four Corners… that was the crowning glory. To have stood and watched as the man bled death amidst a cloud of his own farts and a puddle of his own piss. Mattias grimaced and smiled, his breaths coming quick and fast as the searing pain lanced again, only this time it coincided with a candle within a sconce upon the wall flaring brightly, searing the wall and extinguishing itself in a cloud of ash and floating embers.

The sight drew Mattias' gaze, for beaded with sweat and flush, the Chancellor couldn't help but watch those embers as they danced within the room, almost following his gaze as they swished too and fro. Mattias blinked and when his eyes opened, the embers themselves had been snuffed. A ragged gasp escaped him as he pushed away from the door, lurching back towards his desk and indeed as he stumbled those few steps, he managed to grasp the edge to support his flagging weight, barely noticing as he pushed away again, two darkened hand prints were etched into the desk, burnt into the very spot his hands had grasped, though the print beneath his gloved hand was fainter. Another candle erupted, the flame burning bright, the wax melting at a considerable pace given the heat of the flame that had ignited to such a degree. A black line marked the scoring heat against the stone wall, yet again even as Mattias tried to focus, he found he had to brush the sweat from his eyes as he finally stumbled and collapsed into his chair.

With his gloved hand tugging at his collar, Mattias wished for the end to simply take him. To yield to the death he truly hadn't expected for a good while, the candles flared in unison, melting instantaneously to leave those bubbling blobs of wax streaked down the wall. The papers near him curled slightly, the parchment browning slowly in such a way that Mattias pushed his chair from his desk with a great feat of flagging strength. The heat was palpable and Mattias could bear it no longer, even as the powder within his desk-laden hand cannon erupted, blasting through a pile of papers, scattering them upon the hot eddies of swirling air within the locked and bound office.

The loud crack of a pistol was something that those beyond the office could not ignore, fists soon hammered upon the door, "Chancellor! Chancellor Thynne!" Had he killed himself? An assassin? And the door? There was a definate heat on this side of the door. And the hammering was soon replaced by the steady thud and thunk of axes hacking into the dense wood, "Chancellor! Are you okay?!"

The shouts brought a faint if crooked smile to Mattias' lips, panting and gasping for breath, even as he watched the oddest of occurances ruining his neatly arranged office about him. Death just didn't seem to want to come… the pain was excrutiating. His body often racked with violent convulsions as the heat within him erupted, causing the puddles of wax within the now dimly lit room to bubble, while the few embers from the fired pistol flared to life upon his desk, flaring and growing and soon little flames danced upon the scorched desk, searing papers and causing them to burn away to ash as the flames spread.

The sight was oddly comforting, to be consumed by fire was not exactly the way he wished to go, but the flames they performed for him. They danced, they swirled and occasionally they raged as if aching to tear back control. And rage they did, spreading in open rebellion to the Parthian rug upon the floor.

"Fire!" That word joined the others, not that Mattias paid them much heed. Though undoubtedly the red glow could be seen from beneath the door. And still the steady thud of axes pounded against the door.

Slumped within his chair, Mattias gazed in awe and wonder, his mind racing at the madness of the flames doing his bidding, his sanity at least assured during the moments in which the flame took back control to burn bright and wild, consuming all that they could. Yet with some furrowing of the brow, the flame railed against the sudden leashing of its desire. Flames ebbed, others sought to spawn as the element sought to revolt. Yet even as he fought back his wild panic, his heart pounding panic at the prospect of being broiled alive within his stone office, the flames dared to submit in the wildest of terms. Flaring abruptly, sending wild sparks hither and thither. The rug utterly consumed, the desk riven with scorch marks and Mattias drenched with sweat and the contours of his face streaked with soot.

Minutes had definately passed, too many minutes, flames his risen and fallen, fabrics and parchment had been expunged, records consumed by raging fire. Though thankfully many a copy existed. The internal battle had drained Mattias utterly, there was no strength to rise once the final flame had been squashed in a puff of embers and soot. Mattias just sat there, peeling back his charred glove to marvel at the newfound pain within his shattered hand, peeling back the leather to gaze upon an odd mark, a fiery mark etched into his very skin, dancing about the pucked scar that ruined his hand both sides. To gaze upon it was to feel that heat rise once more and in much the same way he hid his wounded hand from view, and so the glove was peeled back into place and Mattias slumped, feeling his eyes grow heavy as a couple of sparks ignited in the periphery of his vision.

The door splintered and two guards rushed in, splashing buckets of water towards the flames either side of the room, within but a few short moments to new fires had been drowned and two other guards rushed to either side of the slumped Chancellor, eying the oddly charred office as they approached.

"He dead?"

The coarse cough that spluttered briefly from Mattias' lips seemed enough proof as to disprove that notion.

"Don't think so…"

Even as a faint puff of smoke drifted past the Chancellor's nostrils, the two guards hefted the dead weight of the Free City's elected leader between them, immediately moving to carry him towards his quarters within the bank. The milky-eyed and be-wigged Notary following behind them…

It was a good few hours later that Mattias dared open his eyes, his head pounding and his throat sore and chaffed from the heat.

"Don't speak Chancellor… the fire…"

Mattias turned his gaze to the Notary, the man ready with a glass of water. A much needed glass of water. A sip was taken and a violent cough shook the bed, before Mattias slumped even more wearily and drawn into the comfort of his sheets.

"Replace candles. Throughout. Bad batch…"

The words though hoarse, were understood, and the Notary took his leave to ensure the safety of the bank.

While Mattias eyed the candle at the far end of the room and watched it splutter lightly.

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