Chapter 16: The Mayor, the Mask, and a Very Good Illusion
If Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier had one weakness—aside from sponge cakes and his chair's audible distress every time he sat in it—it was his abnormally high tolerance for nonsense. That, and perhaps, the astonishing capacity of his facial folds to absorb the summer heat like a dozen woolen blankets.
But even he had to admit, today was odd.
A man had walked into his office—no guards, no knock, just a sudden poof of smoke—and introduced himself as Kakashi Hatake, also known as the Lightning Blade, also known as the "guy with one eye and possibly too many secrets."
Panasolei blinked slowly, a wet, squishy sound accompanying his effort.
The man standing before him was lean, grey-haired, masked, and looked entirely too smug for someone intruding on a mayor's office. His single visible eye crinkled cheerfully, as if they were about to discuss weather and tea instead of political dominance.
"I see you're busy," Kakashi said airily, waving a gloved hand at the scrolls and ledgers on the desk. "Excellent. You're the kind of man who likes knowing what's coming."
The mayor grunted. He'd meant it to sound skeptical and sharp, but it emerged more like the wheeze of a winded piglet.
"Who are you?" Panasolei asked, mopping his brow with a handkerchief that had long given up trying to stay clean. "And why do you smell like… forest fire and static?"
"Lightning blade," Kakashi said again, as if that explained everything. "But I'm not here for pleasantries. I'm here to make you an offer. Serve me, and I'll protect your city."
Panasolei stared at him, long and slow, the kind of look he reserved for tax evasion reports and noble family trees. "Is this about the Slane Theocracy trouble near Carne Village?"
"Mm." Kakashi nodded. "Funny thing about that."
He raised a single hand, fingers forming a quick sign, and suddenly—the walls dissolved into a vision.
An enormous dragon-like being coiled around a man dressed in bark and leaves. Then came the angels—gleaming, radiant, and very quickly exploding into glitter as an enormous wind-fueled storm of destruction turned them and the land into a crater the size of a small nation's pride.
It was not, Panasolei reflected, the kind of thing one saw before lunch.
When the illusion ended, Panasolei coughed. Not because he had anything to say—he simply needed time.
"I… see," he muttered carefully, dabbing at his chin. "That does appear to be problematic."
Kakashi's eye glinted. "Oh, that's not a problem. That's just a demonstration."
Panasolei tilted his head. "And I suppose you want me to believe you did all that?"
Kakashi shrugged. "Doesn't matter if you believe it. Gazef will confirm it shortly."
Now that gave the mayor pause. Gazef Stronoff was not the sort of man to exaggerate. If he had seen it and lived… then perhaps this strange masked visitor wasn't entirely made of nonsense.
"You see," Kakashi continued, stepping closer and somehow making no noise at all, "we don't really need you."
He said it so plainly that Panasolei choked on a crumb that hadn't even existed.
"You… don't?"
"We'd rather have you on our side," Kakashi added with a chuckle. "Because you're clever. You care about the people. You know the real numbers in this city. And we just want information—what's happening beyond our lands. What smells of danger before it reaches our forests."
There was a beat of silence. Panasolei could almost feel his heartbeat in his neck.
"And, if you're tired of the bulldog look," Kakashi added, peering thoughtfully at the mayor's face, "we can change it. With ease."
Panasolei blinked. "You can… what?"
Kakashi simply tapped the mask where his mouth should be. "Think it over."
And then—poof.
Smoke.
Empty space.
The chair across the desk still rocking slightly, like someone had just stood up and left.
Panasolei stared at it for a long moment, then sighed deeply and opened a drawer. He pulled out a fresh scroll and began writing something urgent.
Across the top, he scribbled:
To His Majesty, the Royal Court of Re-Estize
Subject: Concerning the Emergence of a Very Polite Forest Deity and His Mysterious Cyclonic Henchman
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By noon the next day, two messengers returned, dusty and breathless from their ride, with the exact words Panasolei hadn't wanted to hear:
"Captain Gazef confirmed it. A single man destroyed an entire Sunlight Scripture unit. Their Dominion Authority angel was also annihilated. There is a crater now. A very large one."
The mayor sat back in his enormous chair, which gave a protesting creak and a soft sigh as if trying to resign from its duties. For a moment, he said nothing, merely twiddling a very expensive quill between his fingers, the kind you only used when something truly historic was being written.
And this… oh, this qualified.
He set the quill to parchment with a long, put-upon sigh and began to write.
To His Most Royal Majesty, King Ramposa III of the Re-Estize Kingdom
From: Mayor Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier
Subject: A Matter of Grave and Unusual Importance
Your Majesty,
It is with great urgency (and a fair amount of perspiration) that I write to inform you of recent events transpiring near the outskirts of E-Rantel.
A man—though I hesitate to use the term so lightly—has appeared, calling himself the Lightning Blade. At first glance, he seemed a masked eccentric. Possibly a bard who took one too many lightning spells to the head. However, I quickly learned he is a harbinger of something… far beyond eccentricity.
This man, or rather the force behind him, is responsible for the complete annihilation of a Sunlight Scripture unit from the Slane Theocracy. Eyewitness accounts—including from Captain Gazef Stronoff himself—confirm that this power destroyed even their Dominion Authority.
I will repeat that for clarity: He erased a Dominion Authority like one brushes crumbs off a robe.
Moreover, he has claimed the forests around the region as his territory and warned against any uninvited interference. He refers to himself—or rather, the one behind him does—as the Nature Lord, and he brings with him a dragon… or something so convincingly draconic that I suspect even the bards will have trouble exaggerating it further.
He has made it clear that he seeks no war—but demands respect and distance.
For the record, I recommend diplomacy, cautious observation, and an immediate review of any activity near the eastern forests. Should this man desire peace, we must encourage it. Should he change his mind… well, I imagine no amount of military funding will grow back the trees he can obliterate with a flick of his wrist.
Also, Your Majesty, he offered to… improve my appearance. Magically. I mention this not for vanity (though who would not appreciate cheekbones sharp enough to cut cheese?), but to emphasize his mastery of illusion, transformation, and psychological warfare.
I remain your loyal servant,
Panasolei Gruze Day Rettenmaier
Mayor of E-Rantel
Weight: Increasingly Irrelevant
Loyalty: Unshaken
Cheekbones: Pending
Panasolei set the quill down, admiring his handiwork before sealing the scroll with a heavy sigh. He rang the bell for his assistant, who stumbled in with the cautiousness of a man used to being blamed for missing tea.
"Send this to the royal court immediately," Panasolei said, then paused. "Actually, send it with both fast couriers. And tell them not to stop unless they're on fire."
As the assistant hurried away, Panasolei leaned back and stared at the mirror across the room. He tugged at his jowls thoughtfully, then muttered, "Handsome, was it? Hm. I wonder…"
Outside, the city bustled as usual—but somewhere far above the clouds, a certain dragon soared with a masked man riding its back, completely unaware that an overweight mayor below had just begun to consider cheekbone-based politics for the first time in royal history.
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In the vast stone halls of the Re-Estize Kingdom's royal palace, a courier arrived, his boots echoing sharply across the marble floors. The King's scribe hurriedly unfurled the parchment, scanning the neat, bold handwriting that bore the mark of the kingdom's steadfast warrior, Gazef Stronoff.
The letter read:
To His Majesty, King Ramposa III, Sovereign of the Re-Estize Kingdom,
Your Majesty,
I write to you with an account of my recent encounter near Carne Village, regarding the devastating destruction of the Sunlight Scripture forces.
Upon investigation, I found the scene marked by a massive crater—one kilometer deep and wide—and the utter annihilation of the attacking force. It was clear that the power responsible far exceeds the known capabilities of our highest mages or warriors.
I came face-to-face with the man claiming dominion over these lands. He refers to himself as the Nature Lord, and from the scope of his abilities—most notably the summoning of a colossal wooden dragon and control over natural forces—I believe he is akin to a Dragon Lord, a title I have only encountered in legends.
The man was forthright in his warning: he claims the forests within our kingdom's borders as his own territory and explicitly demands no interference. While his power is undeniable, he showed no immediate intent for conflict beyond defending what he calls his domain.
For these reasons, Your Majesty, I counsel diplomacy and caution. To engage in violence against such a force without understanding the full nature of his intentions would be to invite ruin.
I have taken residence in E-Rantel to gather further intelligence and remain at your disposal for any orders.
May your reign be long and just.
Gazef Stronoff
Captain of the Re-Estize Kingdom Knights
The king leaned back from the letter, rubbing his temples thoughtfully. Gazef's words weighed heavily. A Dragon Lord—or something like one—staking claim on the kingdom's land was no small matter. But the man's restraint was a rare glimpse of reason in an often chaotic world.
"Send word to the mayor and Gazef," the king commanded his adviser. "Let us pursue diplomacy but prepare our forces discreetly. The Forest is not just trees—it is the kingdom's heart. We must tread carefully, lest we wake a sleeping giant."