The setting was a party at midnight, the whole Family had been invited, everyone who mattered and was important was in attendance, you could see the gala suits and dresses floating around the dancing hall. A harmony of sounds and movements, those that didn't dance sat at the crystal tables speaking with others and enjoying a good time.

  The waiters and waitresses moved around in coordinated effort to make sure everyone had food and drinks at hand, no one would be able to say that the party was boring or missed something.

  Those in attendance all smiled and spoke with each other; those that couldn't get in time cried and banged at the fence for the injustice that had come to them, for they too, wished to be in attendance.

  But was it mere civilians those that banged at the fence?

  Nay.

  Politicians famed for their glib tongue.

  Bankers famed for their money.

  Merchants who had brought expensive gifts of species and exotic animals.

  Actors and Actress…

  Singers….

  Any and all types of people who, on a normal day, could move thousands with a word, all clamoring at the doors to be let in.

  All failing on deaf ears.

  "You will be removed if you continue this!" One of the knights guarding the door into the compound spoke, brandishing his weapon of choice at those that wanted to enter.

  In a normal circumstance, a mere revolver wouldn't elicit that reaction, and while true. A gun was a dangerous weapon, but even so, a revolver had a limited amount of bullets; a single six-bullet revolver would never be enough to stop a horde of people.

  No, it wasn't that what made them stop. But the fact of who wielded the weapon, a Knight in the service of the Family who owned that building.

  A Knight of White.

  Renowned for their combat prowess, feared for their unconventional use of weaponry, each and every one of them a master of their weapon of choice, unlike most enforcer organizations that still used the concept of a Knight. They didn't train their soldiers in a single type of weapon. Instead they fostered originality, a knight of White could very well go at you with a sword as it could go after you using a spoon. And both would guarantee your death if you didn't take them seriously.

  Since this was such an important event, however, all the knights sent as guardsmen wielded firearms, a sure way to showcase how dangerous they were.

  Really, such a ridiculous and banal (But effective) way to ensure the populace knew their place, most people who saw a knight in modern times thought that they were a relic of old times.

  They all feared the guns, but didn't respect the sword.

  Even though a Knight was still (And sometimes more) lethal, no matter what they used. Granted, most of the Knights serving under the White Family were a notch above others. Since they weren't Knights only in name, but actual Knights.

  Wielders of the mystical powers that once were thought to be mere fantasies of old.

  Magic.

  Not Magic in the sense of mages, wizards, and such. But Magic in the sense of ways to affect the real world in tangible ways, actual fighters who could level city blocks and hunt the most dangerous of monsters.

  But for the White Family?

  "How dare you?!?!? A mere guardsman!" They were reduced to guards to make sure people didn't skip the line.

  Why?

  "Sir, we are Knights of White. We can and will use any level of force we deem necessary to ensure our Lady has the Birthday she deserves," The Knight of White said in an even tone.

  Each word cold as the depths of Hell, each word a promise of untold levels of violence, each word a statement.

  A Knight of White would not give threats but promises.

  "....I just want to make sure the Lady of White receives our good wishes for her Birthday…The president just…" A Knight of White would hold no negotiation.

  "Return to the line, if someone leaves early we will go through the list and invite whoever is next in line." They would follow their orders and nothing else, for the will of the Family was above all.

  Above the laws of men.

  Above the heavenly decree.

  Above the desire of the flesh.

  A knight of White was like that. Closer to a machine than to a man, nurtured from birth to create the perfect bodyguard.

  “*Gulp* Yes…” And nothing less than stellar would set a foot within the residence of White.

  Why?

  Because today was the birthday party of the most important member of the white Family, today was the birthday party of the Lady of the House. Today was the birthday party of Trixie White.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The sole daughter of the most infamous man to ever live in the good city of New York. Known to the normal populace as Albert White, owner of The News Beacon. Known to the law enforcement force as Albert White, Don of a Mafia group suspected to deal in gambling(At the very least) and information broker.

  As for the underworld populace? Albert White, the jailer of demons. A whole family who dedicated all their forces to keeping down and controlling their demons, a family who had a propensity for outbursts that ended up with unstable people.

  A doting father, a ruthless information broker, a bloody mafioso.

  Three identities, and tonight….this very night, he was Albert White, a man who wanted nothing else but for the night to end on a good note.

  "Trixie? Dear? Are you ready?" A man in his prime, he was about to enter his twilight years, but his head still had naught a silver strike on it, his face was shaved for the daughter he was attempting to call hated the feeling of a beard.

  So, the man shaved his face to be as smooth as a baby's bottom.

  "No!" And yet, the man who did as much as he could for his daughter was being pelted by teddy bears and plushies.

  "Trixie, love….we got that group of Asian men to sing for you!" The man pleaded as best as he could, "They all will sing your favorite songs in that gibberish language you like!"

  The group in question was popular with the younger generation, a group of Japanese singers that liked to dress in almost transparent shirts and pants that stuck to their bodies as if they were stocking.

  Albert White expended a small fortune to get them from Tokyo Japan to New York.

  ".....Will they tell me I'm their princess?" The small, shrill voice of a little girl asked as the door opened ever so little.

  "Of course they will, anyone who looks at you thinks the same!" Albert White said controlling himself from sticking anything in the space that had opened.

  The last person to do so had ended up losing an arm from that.

  "....Will they sing The world is mine?" Trixie asked as she opened the door more, just barely enough that Albert could finally see the girl.

  It was, by most definitions, a little girl. A child, a girl, dressed in what was designed to look like a princess dress. It had bright pastel colors and some ribbons here and there.

  It was frilly beyond reason, but somehow it looked fine on the little girl; she seemed to possess an ethereal type of beauty, as if she had just stepped out from within the world of dreams, a princess walking from a fantasy world into the cruel real world of a nation who was experiencing their first economic crisis. Trixie White had glimmering hair that cascaded like a multicolored waterfall in the darkest night, streaks of pink and purple as if it glimmered under the moon, and almond-shaped eyes that shone like a pair of stars in the night sky. One purple and one pink, like a pair of gems.

  "I'm sure they will," Albert said, thinking for the thousand and one time the same thing he had when he saw Trixie's eyes.

  Was it a curse? Or a manifestation of her true nature?

  A bright purple eye paired with a bright pink eye. Heterochromia they call it, a disease that makes each orbit a different color.

  Unlike how Albert, who had black eyes. Or well, most of the white Family. They did have some people with exotic hair and complexion; their name had come from their patriarch.

  Maximilian The White.

  A man with white hair who had what they call a genetic disease nowadays, albinism they called it.

  It was a way to distinguish him from the rest. So Maximilian Banked on it, his sons all had black hair and their descendants the same.

  Some people claimed that Maximilian had been a mage, that it was his own Mana that made his hair and eyes that sickly white.

  It was the reason why Albert wasn't surprised or worried about his daughter's hair. When one had a strong affinity to Mana, it sometimes manifested in the way of a stigma.

  Having the hair change color wasn't the worst that could happen.

  "You promise?" Trixie asked, her eyes almost turning into stars.

  "Yes, I promise. If you are a good girl tonight I'm sure they will sing whatever song you ask," Albert knew not what song was that one. But he was paying them enough that if he asked for one of their arms, they would accept.

  "Yay!" So when Trixie heard that, she jumped in joy. "Let's go papa!"

  The little girl said pulling at Albert's hand, he felt the cold sensation of Mana enveloping his body.

  A sense of weakness and defeat as his body moved without his command. He was already used to it, so he didn't fight back at the feeling; it was useless anyway. Trixia had commanded and so, he was forced to listen to it.

  That was the might of Trixie White, she didn't care about who you were, she didn't care about what you were. Albert was a fifth-circle Knight, one that was on the cusp of becoming a Sixth-circle even.

  He was the unseen assassin, the tempest of Hell's kitchen. He was feared and revered, envied and reviled. He was… The King of White.

  A title that meant something, a title that put him above the lesser beings, most of the Knights that arrived at the fifth Circle did so by banking all in one aspect, that made them weak in the eyes of Albert.

  Even if his achievements seemed to imply he was the same, when he was not. He had spread his circles all across his body, one for each limb, all for speed. His plans were for the Sixth Circle to tie the other Five in a synergetic bigger circle. One to reinforce his whole body using the spine as a base.

  He would be powerful, powerful beyond what most normal Knights could claim to be, and even like that…

  "I wonder if they will exchange letters with me…." He was being pulled against his wishes by a little girl.

  Trixie was…special. Every father would claim the same; it was the natural instinct to see one's own child as if they were prodigies; every word spoken was a new symphony, every strike against a wall a new artwork… Every new action something worth of being taken into a portrait, or better yet, into a photograph.

  But Trixie…was more than that, she didn't claim the title of The Lady of White merely for being the daughter of Albert. Instead it was a title granted because of her own merit and achievements.

  She was…A mage, nay, something more than a mere wielder of mana, in ancient times she would have been labeled as a witch. Someone who signed a contract with the devil for power beyond human comprehension.

  "Oh right!" Trixie suddenly said, "Look Daddy, my new toy!"

  "....That is nice, Trixie," Albert said as he picked up the offered toy; it was a wooden doll wearing ragged clothes and a miniaturized gun on a leather belt, childish-make, one that made Albert's back drenched in a cold sweat. "Does it have a name Trixie?"

  "Mnnggguuuu….He said that he was Tony? Bad Tony? Dumb Tony…?" Trixie said turning her head sideways to think, "Ah! Fat Tony! Even though he wasn't that fat, that's right. He was Fat Tony! Should I give him a fat tummy?"

  "Better not, remember what we said about your Special Toys?" Albert said returning the doll.

  "Yes! I can only keep them for a week, then I need to return them because they could have cute daughters like me!" Trixie said nodding vigorously, "I don't want to make them sad, that would be bad! For some reason!"

  Trixie had special powers granted by her Circle. Unlike Knights and Mages, who built their Magic Circles with effort and grueling work, there were those who managed to get a Magic Circle without that.

  We call those special circles Origin.

  They grant powers beyond the comprehension of normal rules and laws; some can wield fantastical and nonsense powers, from accessing an alternate universe to commanding the dead, from healing wounds that shouldn't be healable to summoning mysterious creatures by the use of talismans.

  The original tales of legends can be attributed to these beings; the tale of Merlin, the mage of the Arthurian legend, can be one, as is the tale of the sword in the stone.

  And Trixie was one of them….

  Her Origin allowed her to do things that weren't normal, her world was one of fantasy and games, where the people were akin to mere toys for her, one whim…one statement, one gesture…

  No one had been able to track or discover what triggered her powers, but what was clear was that anyone that got on her bad side ended up dead, turned into a frog or worst case scenario…into one of her playthings.

  Trixie White, the daughter of Albert White.

  Trixie White, The Daughter of White…

  Trixie White, The Daughter of Evil.

  And for their victims? She was Trixie White, their god, judge, queen and executioner. And Albert White was walking taking her to the birthday party, where the powerful and mighty awaited, wanting to get into Trixie's good sides, not knowing the dangers they would face.

  For the true identity of Trixie was the most guarded secret of the House of White. The people in the known were aware that Trixie had that title for a reason, they just didn't knew which reason it was…

  *BANG!*

  "Ah…" Albert White could only utter that word as an explosion rocketed the building. Followed by screams of people in panic and Knights of White rushing around and giving orders.

  "Daddy?" He was more focused in something else, the voice of a little girl looking up at him, "Did you prepare a surprise party for me?"

  The eyes of a little girl were filled with stars (Literally, Trixie had actual stars forming in her eyes).

  "Did you like it?" Albert asked.

  "You are the best daddy ever!" Trixie said in a shrill voice as she rushed to the pandemonium.

  Leaving behind Albert White behind, dumbfounded and unsure about what to feel about this, in one hand this was a mess, an enemy family had attacked them. Probably putting at risk their honor and pride as the family of White.

  But on the other hand….Trixie seemed happy for this, and would probably stretch her wings (And Magic) since quite a long time ago, perhaps this could help her settle down for a few months?

  Albert White was, if nothing else, a positive person.