ã€ŠFrom Bards and Poetsã€‹


 Prologue

    ¡°Oi.¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°Oi, gramps ! Wake up.¡±

    ¡°Mgnn ?!¡±

    ¡°You fell asleep, gramps.¡±

    ¡°Is that so ?¡±

    ¡°So are you going to tell me or what ? This guy''s story.¡±

    ¡°You mean... Ah, Azcheron.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, him. People keep talking about him, but to me it''s all nonsense and crazy stuff. But you knew him, right ?¡±

    ¡°My, my. I knew him, indeed.¡±

    ¡°So what was he really like ? This legendary mage.¡±

    ¡°Eeh... A bit different from the stories, I''d say.¡±

    ¡°...¡±The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    ¡°It''s all in the past know, but he didn''t leave a very good impression the first times I had to deal with him.¡±

    ¡°Whaddya'' mean ?¡±

    ¡°He... kind of almost killed me.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Err... He was a hero, right ? You probably happened to be on the enemy''s side or something ?¡±

    ¡°...¡±

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°...No, not really ? But it doesn''t really matter now.¡±

    ¡°Alright... Can you tell me more about him ?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Well for starters, he was really strong. Maybe more than the story says. His magic certainly was flashy. Yet there are many, many things the rumours are omitting or twisting.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, you hooked me. So ?¡±

    ¡°You''ve heard that he was admired and respected by all, kings and knights alike ?

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°You''ve been told how he single-handedly defended the Empire when it was attacked by red dragons ?¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°And the talks about how he was so kind and gentle that he got the heart of every princess on the continent ? About how he subjugated demons and rescued people from ancient ruins ? You heard all that ?¡±

    ¡°I did. Was that all true ?¡±

    ¡°As if ! Kings and nobles hated him. He trashed palaces and mansions and acted all imperious in front of people. He had to fight dragons because he damn angered them and led them in the capital himself when he fled ! He was so rude I still don''t get why he was popular with girls, and he made friends with demon lords like it was no big deal. And he HAD to rescue people from trap-filled crap-holes because HE forced them to come and explore them with him !¡±

    ¡°... I guess you were one of those ''rescued'' people ?¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡±

    ¡°So he was a jerk of some sort.¡±

    ¡°Dunno. I''d gladly say so, but even I don''t know everything about him. He sure was worth remembering though... Hmrpf.¡±

    ¡°Does anyone know the full story ?¡±

    ¡°Maybe. I doubt it, but... That''d certainly be one damn story.¡±

 1 - Beginnings

    ¡°I see land, finally. It has taken us more time than I had first envisioned. I almost convinced myself that we were lost or that the whole thing was a lie. But Elric spoke the truth when he told me about this damn island. I feel like an idiot for doubting him. Still, I suppose it would have been quite faster, had he been with us. He is, after all, the only person I''ve ever met who seems to know about its precise location. The jerk only told me it was a two month travel to the east of Longhills. I did not realize until midway how long of a journey it meant ! I gathered from his stories and the distance that the locals aren''t much accustomed to visitors and the like ; hopefully our arrival will not cause any hostility. I brought gifts to this effect. Everybody loves gifts.

    -Anton''s diary, 1<sup>st</sup> journey to the island¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°Azcheron,¡± someone called out.

    Crouching on the ground, a blonde youth was concentrating and using his magic to sculpt something with sand. It was a hobby of his. Of course, he couldn''t afford to be disturbed, so he replied as non-committally as he could. With a groan. ¡°Mh.¡±

    ¡°Azcheron !¡±

    He turned his head and answered with an offended voice. ¡°What ? I''m busy.¡±

    ¡°I can see that. Is it that much fun to make statues of you with sand ? All by yourself ?¡±

    It''s father, the youth thought. Is he mocking me ? I believe he is.

    ¡°How dare you. I don''t trust the others with that, they can''t use magic with the proper accuracy, and they''d get my face wrong. So I have to do it myself.¡±

    It''s true, I''m not lying. I''m the best mage on the island, and when it comes to minute details and accurate manipulation of raw mana, I am peerless. I''m peerless in many other fields, but it''s not like I''d make a list of these things. Boasting is inelegant.

    ¡°That''s not what I meant... Hah, whatever, listen to me. The... seers spotted something, a few days to the west. Looks like Anton''s ship. It seems there are two boats this time, but we don''t know why.¡±

    He flashed a brief smile. Anton came back, as always. ¡°Oh. Good, good. A few days, you say ? Since when are the seers able to look that far ?¡±

    ¡°Vara trained them. She told you, but you weren''t listening. Why do you insist on calling them ''seers'' anyway ? It''s not like they can see in the future, they''re just sentries using magically enhanced sight.¡±

    ¡°It''s more stylish,¡± he answered flatly.

    Isn''t that obvious ? Calling them sentries makes us look like we''re an encampment of unclean soldiers. We''re not ! We''re mages, damnit.

    His father, Aldaron, did not reply, as if he was waiting for Azcheron to continue. Of course, he knew what his father wanted him to say. He had responsibilities after all. ''Twas a pain, but such was the duty of the Saint of the clan.

    ¡°Fine. I''ll do the announcement. Can you gather everyone in front of the temple, father ?¡±

    Aldaron smirked and walked away, with a victorious demeanour. Well, it was true that Azcheron had a tendency to spit on these kind of things, but even he could sometimes act like a proper clan chief, even though he was only seventeen. Like when Anton Vardt came to see them. He was Azcheron''s friend and his teacher, so he didn''t mind playing village chief to make his stay more pleasant.

    Always treat your friends well ! That''s the very first lesson he gave me, since I tried to assassinate him the very first time we met. But I had my reasons ! Wouldn''t you be suspicious if some random old mage from the Empire came suddenly to your island one day, after decades of isolation ?

    Indeed, he was the Saint and he had responsibilities. Among them, the obligation to defend the village against intruders that could pose problems. Granted, at that time, Anton had no ill-intent, but Azcheron wasn''t even nine years-old and had just been freshly invested with the Saint''s duties. He was eager to test his might ! And he was dumb, maybe.

    He wasn''t anymore. Who did you think he was, an oaf ? In the eight years of friendship shared with Anton, he obtained a lot knowledge about the world. He had never been outside the island, so all he could work with were books and stories.

    His mother went to the continent too, at some point, so she also told him a few interesting things. This was a different matter, though.

    In any case, he had to do the announcement. They usually prepared a feast or something, when Anton visited them.

    Guess we''ll have to fish or hunt, he thought. Ah, we also have to feed the damn dogs. I call them dogs because that''s what they are according to books, but Vara''s animals are the scariest bunch. If I was given the authority to name them, I''ll call them... Eh... I don''t know of anything shorter than ''angry-looking-sword-toothed-drooling-bloodwolf'' so...

    Right then, now was the time to go and act like a proper village chief.

    * * *

    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°I was able to meet with the head of the clan, two weeks ago. As I expected, magical potency is a major factor in determining the hierarchy. While the ''Rahal Saint'' as he is called, governs the village with the help of the elders, he has full authority when dealing with beasts, internal conflicts or visits from mainlanders, and every other matter that may involve force. His role is, in other words, to defend the village by any means necessary. I believe the head of the clan is called ''Saint'' because of the requirements for the position : utmost talent and phenomenal might that inspire an unconditional trust and, in some, if not most of the clansmen, a pious veneration.

    -Anton''s diary, 1<sup>st</sup> journey to the island¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron was currently pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, elbow on the armrest. He was trying to appear very annoyed. He didn''t have to put much effort, seeing as he was very annoyed.

    Anton had arrived some moments ago. Azcheron knew he should have expected trouble ever since they noticed that there was another ship aside from Anton''s, two days ago. Well, it all came down to one thing, in fact : secrecy.

    Mages were a very powerful resource. They were properly enrolled and trained in the many magic schools on the continent ¨C the best attended the Imperial Academy ¨C and then served in the army or became researchers, engineers, scholars and whatnot. The strongest could aspire to become heroes by spreading their might and achievements. It they did it well they ended up with more glory, money, love pretenders and songs about them than they could ever know what to do with.

    I''d personally be very interested by the fame and songs, but there''s only so much one can hope to obtain while spending his life on an island two months away from the next chunk of land...

    I''m getting sidetracked. Yes, I''m supposed to be angry right now. And I am !

    This wretch Anton had just brought a god-damn noble to Azcheron''s island. And what''s more, said god-damn noble thought he could buy and employ some of his mages. Worse, the rascal brought mercenaries here ! What the hell. Were they barbarians or something ? Azcheron had to admit he didn''t mind casting a magic missile on an hostile visitor, but he learned his lesson. Now he''d wait a bit before doing that. Well, aside from Anton, no one ever came here, so... He''d be lying if he said he wasn''t glad that they finally got to deal with a proper intruder. There were few things more frustrating than being given an island to protect when no one ever tried to invade it.

    Well, that was that. The noble, Koven Sarlas, wanted to buy magicians. It also seemed he was not opposed to other procuration methods, as implied by the presence of mercenaries. Methods such as kidnapping, slavery and the likes, which Azcheron had read about in books. He was not sure if it was a proper thing to do among humans, but regardless, he was not planning on letting such a fate befall his villagers.

    Honestly, I''m not really anxious about the situation. There are several very accessible ways to resolve this issue, so I''ll just suggest one.

    ¡°I don''t get what you''re worried about. Can''t we just sink his ship or something ?¡±

    Anton looked at him for a second, as if he hadn''t heard what Azcheron said. Then he replied in an offended voice.

    ¡°Eh ? NO ! Half my crew is on that ship. No way you''re sinking it. Damn brat.¡±

    ¡°Hah, that''s too bad. I could have done it right here, right now. I wanted to try a bit of water magic. Are you sure I can''t cast a whirlpool or something ? A small one. Maybe the ship will endure it, who knows !¡±

    ¡°Nnng. Why don''t you try to talk it out with him ?¡±

    How dares he. Do I really have to explain everything ?

    ¡°Why should I ! You''re the one who brought that noble here. I don''t want it. Especially now that I know what he plans to do. And it''s rude to bring armed friends to someone else''s island, does he not know that ? Tell him to go back to the mainlands or else he''ll serve as food for the... not the fish, in fact, because I was thinking about feeding Vara''s dogs. That way we won''t have to hunt. Ah, that would be a good decision. Shall we do it this way ?¡±

    Aldaron interjected. ¡°Wait, wait. We can''t just dispose of that man without thinking of the consequences. He''s the lord of Longhills, the closest town to us, even if it''s two months away from here. How did he hear about us anyway ?¡± he asked Anton.

    Aldaron was a tall blonde man with an intimidating frame and a stern look. When he asked things, you usually answered. Of course, sometimes Azcheron didn''t, because he liked to play the role of the defiant teenager. It gave the illusion that he was a normal, regular youth. He thought his father liked it, because then he could scold his son. Probably made him feel like a proper... father ? Azcheron wasn''t sure, in the end. Maybe they were all jerks, and it just ran down in the family.

    The old mage frowned and casted his gaze to the side. He looked very guilty. ¡°He just... heard ? You know, these things happen, so...¡±

    ¡°Indeed, things. What things ? I wonder.¡± The Saint was suddenly feeling inquisitive. This whole thing was fishy, there was no way that the noble had simply ''heard'' of the island.

    Anton sighed, as if understanding he couldn''t avoid telling the truth. ¡°It''s very simple. I avoided as much as I could speaking about your clan, like you asked me to, but my crew... Well, you know. Sailors are men of rumours and taverns. Said rumours have reached some ears, and well. I told you, these things happen.¡±

    Oooh. Even though I asked everyone to keep their mouth shut about us. They''re courageous, I have to admit.

    ¡°Yes, yes, they do happen, mmmh,¡± Azcheron finally said as he rose from his chair.

    ¡°Eh... Why are you getting up ? You''re not planning to sink the ship to punish them, are you ?¡±

    Of course not ! I was just going to slaughter the people on board.

    ¡°Why, I would never hurt your crew, my dear Anton ! I was merely thinking about repaying their bravery with an adequate demise. They did defy me, no ? That takes courage, yes. It''d be very rude of me not to acknowledge that. With a proper beheading.¡±

    ¡°Come on ! Don''t act like the brat that you are. Give them a break, they kept silent about your damn island for almost eight years. Why don''t you take this as an opportunity to practise your, err... non-lethal diplomatic skills ? You know. Talking and negotiating ?¡±

    Azcheron''s expression became one of enlightenment for a second.

    ¡°Oh, yes, that... would be a good idea,¡± he replied, grinning. ¡°Instead of crushing your opponent with mighty magic, you utterly destroy him by the power of words and theatrics. Intimidation, yes. Thank you, Anton, for you precious insight. As always, you are very wise.¡±

    ¡°I am sure you misunderstood me and I''m very displeased that you''re able to twist my words with such ease. Look, we don''t have the same definition of the word ''talking'', but I trust you will avoid letting the situation degenerate ? Lord Koven is a impulsive man after all.¡±

    ¡°What could possibly go wrong ? Father, please pass the word to the villagers. We shall grant the man the welcome he deserves. Also, we''ll need a dramatic set up. I''ll find Vara and ask her to take care of that. She''s the best at genuinely getting angry, haha. We can''t do a half-hearted negotiation after all.¡±

    ¡°See ! That''s exactly what I don''t want you to do ! You''re planning to act all mightier-than-thou in front of that guy ! I know you, brat.¡±

    ¡°Should I gather everyone in front of the temple then ? I assume it''ll take place here,¡± Aldaron wondered as he was about to exit the room.

    Anton seemed horrified to find that even the father deemed the venture perfectly normal.

    ¡°Huh, this damn clan. I should have expected that. You''re all way too merry and eager to deal with this guy. That''s what decades of isolation will do to you, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Well then Anton, would you be so kind as to go fetch the mongrel ? We shall meet him in the most spectacular fashion, and send him on his way back as promptly as possible. I''d like to keep my island idiot-free.¡±

    * * *

    ¡°What I didn''t expect was the identity of the current Saint. At first I pinned it on the fact that, maybe, this generation of Rahal might not be the greatest, or that they were not immune to nepotism or corruption. But I was soon proved otherwise. I arrogantly took him as my disciple and decided to teach him magic from the continent. In the end I learned from him almost as much as he learned from me.

    I can only think of a handful of mages currently alive, me included, that could claim to stand above him. Yet none are as young as him.

    For the Rahal Saint is a mere eight year-old boy.

    His name is Azcheron.

    -Anton''s diary, 1<sup>st</sup> journey to the island¡±

 2 - Beginnings II

    ¡°Since the youngest age, the Rahal children are taught magic and are quickly learning to incorporate it in their everyday life. I saw them using magic to knit clothes, stir pots and wash themselves. Hell, they''d clip their nails with it, even. What a pool of mana they must have. And there is no exception, apart from the very few mainlanders who settled in the village decades ago. The Rahal bloodline must be blessed be the gods or something. Should their ancestors turn out to be greats wizards from legends of old, it wouldn''t surprise me. I fear for the unknowing and foolish visitor who''d dare to provoke their wrath.

    -Anton''s diary,1<sup>st</sup> journey to the island¡±

    * * *

    Tarfus

    Great. So great.

    This was the god-damn worst day of his life. And, Tarfus could guess easily from here, it''d be the last.

    What''s with these psychotic wizards ? What''s with this crappy nobleman ?

    He was supposed to enjoy a few days of vacation on some nice island with the other mercenaries, and now he was about to get turned into some hot fuming pile of burnt flesh. If he was lucky. They looked like they wouldn''t give them a quick death, no. And by quick death, he meant slow death. They probably meant to give them a very very very slow death. But even a slow death seemed quick compared to a very very very slow death.

    All things considered, I think being burnt alive is more pleasant than whatever these clansmen intend to do to us. This child over here, she looks like she''d enjoy dismembering people. And this damn scary woman there, I can easily guess what she''s planning to do with my crotch. I don''t think you want to know.

    He was seriously angry with fate, right now. It felt like a greater power or something had taken a dump on him.

    I guess if I was the protagonist of a story, now would be the beginning of the book, where I''m faced with an absurdly depressing situation. Then I''d say ¡°here''s what happened¡± and the narration would come back to a few hours before to tell my adventures.

    But it didn''t really look like he was the hero of a book. More like, he was one of these cannon-fodder enemies the hero would encounter during his journey, to serve as character development or plot device.

    What the heck. Is that what I am, a plot device ?

    Well, since he was surely about to get killed in a horrible fashion, he''d get to see his life flash before his eyes, right ? So, he might as well lie to himself and act like a protagonist before he died. He could at least indulge in this. A dead man''s last wish.

    So, here''s what happened.

    * * *

    Tarfus stretched his back as they walked on the light-coloured sand. He felt proud of himself. He knew he had made a good decision when he took that job, but now he really understood how nice of an opportunity this was.

    A two month trip on sea to an unknown island with a tribe of mages, or so the rumours said, and a two month return trip. It didn''t seem too dangerous except for the pirates, and in the end they didn''t encounter any. And the pay was high.

    They ¨C the others mercenaries, and their employer lord Koven ¨C had to wait for a bit on their ship while the old mage went first and greeted the islanders. But at this point, after two months on sea, he didn''t mind waiting some more if that meant he could take it easy and enjoy the island.

    Chances are we''ll get to stay a few days, perhaps weeks, while the lord is busy striking whatever deal with these island mages.

    They were about to enter the village, when he noticed the villagers coming to welcome us. They seemed nice... Err... Eh ?

    Maybe ''welcomed'' was a poor choice of word ? They seemed... moody ? Wary ? No, he knew what those glaring eyes meant. The kind of eyes he saw a lot on the battlefield. These villagers were clearly hostile. There was a mix of fear, anger and disdain. Hatred, even.

    What the hell ? Don''t look at me like I''m some dung stuck on your boot. Did we do something wrong ? No, we just arrived and the old guy was supposed to smooth things with them. Guess they just don''t like outsiders. I kinda understand now why the noble brought us, eh.

    There he was, the mage they came with. Anton or whatever his name was. He was talking with the noble. Something to do with meeting the chief of the village, probably. Hopefully, it''d ease the villagers. Things were looking tense, right now.

    As they walked through the village with their very friendly escort, Tarfus noticed that whoever wasn''t busy glaring at them was moving around to their every day life. He saw children playing with magic as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Children ! Tarfus did''t know much about magic, he never had the opportunity to learn in fact, but he knew you didn''t simply play with magic the same way kids played with sticks and stuff. It seemed lord Koven noticed too, because soon he started asking questions to Anton.

    ¡°So, did you mention my offer of employment ?¡±

    ¡°Yes...¡± The scholar made a complicated face.

    ¡°And ?¡± Impatience could be heard in his voice. ¡°Were they interested ? Though I only want the strongest mages.¡±

    Anton didn''t answer. Tarfus could see the dread on his face, but he couldn''t understand what it was all about. The mage wasn''t afraid of Koven or something like that. The old guy was supposed to be an important mage from the capital. No, this was something else, but what ?

    ¡°I believe you''d better ask the Saint.¡±

    ¡°The Saint ? How arrogant can they get ? Is that their sect leader ?¡± As Koven kept asking questions he definitely shouldn¡¯t ask, the villagers, who could hear everything, became more and more hostile.

    Oh, lord, good lord, it might not be a good idea to spit on these islanders'' culture in front of them ? Aren''t they supposed to be mages ? They look fairly displeased with you.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    Of course he didn''t say it out loud. It wasn''t his place to do so. He wasn''t a coward ! But the man was his employer.

    ¡°He is the head of the clan, and the strongest,¡± Anton finally replied.

    Koven nodded with a confident smirk, as if knowing that was enough, as if he now knew who was in charge, and who he had to negotiate with. He must have been really be confident in his rhetoric skills. Couldn''t he see that no one here would ever accept to leave their village to come with him ?

    Whatever, let the man dream, eh ?

    Soon enough, they arrived in what looked like the main plaza. They were standing in front of some stairs leading to a shrine or a temple of some sort. It was a small building, really, the only peculiar thing was the row of columns supporting the stone roof. It was something Tarfus had seen in some very old buildings on the continent. Tarfus looked at the top of the stairs. Standing on it, by order of importance he''d say, some villagers wearing beautiful gowns were waiting and looking at the mercenaries in the same unfriendly fashion.

    A blonde man with a stern and prideful expression was on the higher steps, staring at them. If the man was supposed to be a mage, Tarfus'' first guess would be that he was a warrior, with his tall and fit frame and his muscles showing at some points though the gown. And those eyes that usually belonged to someone facing his mortal enemy.

    What are we, beasts ? Well, I guess I''d be wary too if someone came to my home with soldiers.

    On the higher step and the opposite side, there was a girl, maybe twelve of age, with shoulder length raven hair. She was wearing the richest gown amongst everyone. She was... an odd presence ? What was a little girl like her doing here ? Perhaps she was a priestess of some kind ? The whole set up gave a feeling of religious hierarchy, so that could be a possibility. But the way she was looking down on Koven and the mercenaries said otherwise.

    The chief''s daughter then ? That could be.

    Then, just below her on the stairs,Tarfus could eye a beautiful woman with long black flowing hair. He assumed she was the girl''s mother, seeing as they had similar hair colour. Not many people with black hair in the village, from what he had seen. Well, he''d fall for a woman like that, nine times out of ten. ...Now was the tenth time. She seemed to be, at the same time, the most prideful person in the whole village, and also the angriest person in the whole village.

    Why is such a pretty woman looking at me like she''s about to rip my guts out and shove them in my throat ?

    While Tarfus was pondering on the overaggressiveness of the village''s inhabitants, and their obviously deliberate lack of effort to hide it, the doors of the shrine were shut open. A small group of elderly persons came out and stood on the sides, waiting for something. Tarfus looked beyond them, toward the opened doors. In the darkness of the shrine, there was a figure approaching, and he could hear faint footsteps echoing.

    Then, he came for all to see.

    Tarfus failed to mask the shock on his face. And how could he ? He was imagining an old man or at least a rough looking guy, someone who''d have the face of a ''head of the clan''. ; instead they''re met with that bizarre youth in a flashy gown. No, it wasn''t just a flashy gown, it was the flashiest gown ever. The kind you''d expect a king or a prince to wear.

    The boy didn''t even look older than seventeen and he had long golden hair with straight bangs cut right above his eyes. His skin was fair and Tarfus didn''t think he had any muscle under that shiny gown. If anything he''d say he looked like a girl or something, but he did have sharp features, boyish ones. And these cold eyes, they couldn''t possibly be girl''s eyes.

    So that''s the Saint, eh ? I guess he does fit the whole high priest or clan prince thing, in the end.

    Tarfus quickly glanced around to see the others'' reaction. Most of the mercenaries had a look of surprise but everyone was keeping silent. Aside from Koven. Yes, Koven, of course, made a really really bad job of hiding his surprise, then he spoke, and it became even worse.

    ¡°What the-¡± he frowned. ¡°Is this a joke ?¡±

    Tarfus glanced around again and spotted Anton. He looked resigned. Whatever dread and apprehension he had before, it was gone now and Tarfus had the feeling that Anton was looking at them like they were cattle about to be slaughtered.

    As he was vainly wondering about the meaning of Anton''s expression, the scary angry black haired woman yelled in an overly loud and intimidating voice.

    ¡°IMPUDENT FOOL ! You stand before the Rahal Saint, Azcheron ! Behave yourself or prepare to discard your tongue !¡±

    Everyone tensed up a little. Perhaps it had to do with the mana infused in her voice, but she felt way too menacing. Koven had the presence of mind to hold his tongue, as if it would indeed allow him to keep it. At this moment, no one would dare to doubt the woman.

    There was a short silence, and Azcheron finally spoke. In the same imperious, although calmer, voice.

    ¡°Koven Sarlas ! I am aware of your intentions. Know that you shall find no joy in your search. You are looking to employ mages from our clan for your own purposes. However there are none for you !¡±

    Koven was now wearing a displeased look. That did not seem to be the answer he expected. Technically it wasn''t an answer, seeing as Koven had not even been given the opportunity to personally ask anything. More like a greeting ? A long and unfriendly one, then.

    ¡°You have insulted our hospitality by bringing sell-swords with you. Vacate the island at your earliest convenience, which would be now, and begone. That shall be the end of our negotiations.¡±

    Negotiations my ass. That was a one sided discussion. I doubt the lord will take it well.

    And as if to echo Tarfus'' thoughts, Koven answered in a voice filled with contempt.

    ¡°You insolent commoner. You think it''s wise to provoke me ? Do you not see the soldiers in your village ? I came here willing to commerce with you islanders, but it was obviously a waste of my good will.¡± He spat on the ground and went on. ¡°Peasants are the same whether they''re in the field or on an island.¡±

    Tarfus frowned at the mention of the soldiers.

    I do not exactly want to be used as a means of intimidation. Especially when I''m the one feeling intimidated. I feel oppressed, in the physical sense, in fact. That is surely strange.

    He turned his attention back to the clansmen, and he understood immediately. The menacing dark haired woman was leaking mana in a aggressive fashion. She was the reason the atmosphere felt so suffocating. The angry woman looked like she was about to move, but thankfully, Azcheron stoped her.

    ¡°It is fine, Vara. Koven Sarlas is smarter than the occasional mongrel. He wouldn''t show hostility and unsheathe his weapon in the middle of a village of mages, in a thick atmosphere of concentrated mana. It would be unwise, am I not right, lord Koven ?¡±

    Koven''s eye twitched ever so slightly but he still nodded to show he agreed. His tone however was the same as before.

    Can''t you act a little bit more your place ? You''re not in a particularly good position, not that I care about you, it''s more about my own safety. We''re the ones that will have to take on a damn village on mage if you mess things up.

    ¡°Yes... Fortunately for both of us, I am not that hot-headed. Very well. We''ll take our leave, as I can see that no one is willing to take me on my offer,¡± Koven said, turning around and walking toward the beach, which they could see from here. ¡°Come, guards, this brief stay is to be even more shortened.¡±

    That lord was surely troublesome in his decisions. He almost got everyone killed.

    The villagers didn''t look like they were going to follow them. Perhaps we were not deemed worthy of a proper farewell, Tarfus joked to himself. He was still feeling tense. There was that particularly deranging thought that he couldn''t shackle.

    They were almost out of the village. The lord''s venture had failed, but at least nothing bad happened. He really thought they would have to fight with the villagers when that mage woman almost attacked them. Damn scary. However it would be okay now, right ? Yes. They''d just leave the island. True, Tarfus was disappointed, because he had been looking forward to this.

    But hey, nothing beats keeping your life after almost getting murdered by a clan of mages ! I''m glad for that, at least.

    Then precisely when he was about to relax, he saw his employer doing something.

    The most idiotic and stupid thing anyone could ever do in this situation. Tarfus almost bursted out laughing.

    Now, he didn''t laugh, because it was not funny. Oh no. Clearly not. That damn lord. Tarfus should have known. No, he knew all along.

    Koven didn''t seem to be the kind of man to waste money on a fruitless four months journey with twenty swords-for-hire. Especially after being treated like the everyday crook trying to buy something he can''t afford.

    He knew. Tarfus knew they were doomed. He could almost feel on his nape the two cold and piercing eyes widening in anger, because he was sure that he could perfectly see it from there. See this damn lord, Koven, nonchalantly snatching a lone kid who was playing with magic.

    Without thinking, Tarfus started running.

 3 - Beginnings III

    ¡°A proper villain has to be as evil as he can. That is the main requirement. From here on, the vocation separates in two paths. First is the smart villain category. The villain can''t be seen committing evil acts, he must wander in the shadows and always be two steps ahead of the hero. Preferably,we are looking for a dark mage planning to orchestrate an ancient summoning by gathering obscure artefacts, or a treacherous paladin hiding amidst the heroes, but we also accept errant sadists indulging in murder and torture as long as they stay anonymous and undetected.

    Next is the dumb villain category. This path is open to every novice villain. We welcome angry immature princes, arrogant conceited nobles, dark mages planning ancient summonings while announcing it to the hero, or treacherous allies wearing an obviously nefarious expression, and things of the sort. We will do our utmost to turn any dumb villain into a proper chess-master, but we decline all responsibility in the event of a lack of talent or a surplus of angry stupidity.

    -Terms of service from an offer of employment by an anonymous dark fortress master¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Haaaah. What''s with this stupid lord ? I can''t believe it. I''ve been outsmarted. No, more like, out-dumbed ? Is this a thing ?

    Azcheron managed to put in place a very elaborate and theatrical way of intimidating Koven, but of course the lord had to act like your run-of-the-mill idiot evil aristocrat.

    Kidnapping ! That''s unfashionable. Whatever, I don''t even care anymore.

    He started walking toward the beach because he still had to stop this scoundrel from leaving the island with a kid under his arm. Everyone was following Azcheron and they all walked slowly, to appear more menacing. He was sure they looked very cool at the moment, but his opponents couldn''t really give their opinion, seeing as they were running away from him like mad dogs, as fast as they could. Usually Azcheron would put on a furious expression because he wasn''t supposed to be amused by that kind of incident, but here he did''t even have to fake it.

    He was seriously pissed.

    So much effort for nothing. He was very proud of his thing. He even got to stop Vara from ripping the guts out of everyone, and he was sure that it made him look composed and confident.

    Quickly enough Azcheron and the other villagers arrived at the beach and spotted the running culprits in the distance.

    Ugh, such a pain, and they are fast. They probably intend to use the child as a hostage or something. I want to avoid them going on the ship because then I''d have to sink it and Anton will be displeased. So instead I guess I''ll just destroy the roaming boats.

    Azcheron lifted his palm up in the air and aimed for the boats, while gathering mana around his hand and his arm. He defined speed and trajectory, and released the mana. Several volleys of magic missiles were thrown at high speed toward the other side of the beach. This kind of magical bombardment was mainly used by battle-mages in wars and sieges, according to Anton. Azcheron felt it might have been overkill, but the boats were small and far away, so he didn''t want to risk missing.

    After a few seconds, he heard crushing sounds, signalling him that his spell destroyed the wooden boats. There was no explosion or anything of the sort, because pure mana couldn''t cause that. It was just plain destructive power without any side effect. He liked it, it was clean and precise, at least.

    The noble and the mercenaries finally realized that Azcheron had just cut off their only means of escape. They started looking around, not really knowing what to do. He had to refrain from laughing because he needed to maintain a serious and proper demeanour, and he tried to frown as hard as he could, as he closed on the group.

    They all looked very scared. As expected, the damn lord was holding a dagger against the child''s neck. Did he really think he could get away with that ? Azcheron didn''t understand. Couldn''t he just stab himself with the dagger ? It would spar him the many sufferings the Saint was about to inflict him.

    I think I''ll act imperious one last time, for the sake of it.

    It was a very pleasant feeling. Azcheron approached them as much as he could without triggering any hostile reaction from them. They took stances and everything, so he guessed they were ready to struggle until death.

    Hmm. Let''s do it this way then.

    He infused mana in his voice to make it sound more imposing. It was the trick Vara and him loved to use when they had to do proclamations and announcements. It could be said it was a type of sound magic.

    ¡°HEAR ME OUT, IMBECILES !¡±

    The mercenaries tensed up. Some were covering their ears. Because what Azcheron was doing could make people go deaf. Their ears must have been ringing like hell. Of course he was doing everything he could to look scary, and fear worked better with pain.

    I guess I''ll go with the ''holier-than-thou'' path this time, instead of my personal favourite, the ''mightier-than-thou''.

    ¡°You came to our land and disregarded our pride. You tried to buy our services and threatened us when confronted with refusal. You were given a chance to go away with your body untouched and your mind unscarred, yet you spat on it !¡±

    Yes, and it was true after all. They were idiots for refusing the Saint''s generous offer. And he''d give them one last generous offer. He was such a generous person.

    ¡°There shall be no salvation for dead men like you ! Here is your last choice ! Release the child and surrender immediately, and you''ll be granted a quick death. Struggle, run, or refuse to comply in any way, and a painful, mind-shattering fate shall befall you. Decide NOW !¡±

    It was the ''die or die'' kind of thing. They had to realize that it was the only possible conclusion, and the illusion of choice that he gave them was only here for his personal enjoyment.

    No one answered. Azcheron was wondering if he had scared them too much. He''d have to give them the painful death at this rate. It should be made clear now, Azcheron didn''t enjoy making people suffer. He was not a villain ! Aside from Koven, he didn''t have anything in particular against them, and he had no intent on giving them that mind-shattering fate he spoke of. He didn''t even know what that would be. The only one who would end up with knees and elbows and whatnot bent the wrong way would be Koven. These poor mercenaries had just been dragged in hell for some dumb reason. But they had to be punished anyway, so he wanted to grant them a painless death, by beheading or something. The villagers behind Azcheron on the other hand, didn''t look like they had any issue with torturing these guys.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Azcheron would wait a little more. He hoped they would do something smart like surrendering and releasing the hostage.

    Then indeed, one of them did something. Not what he wanted though. God-damn idiot. He fired his crossbow at the Rahal group. Azcheron stopped the bolt with magic before it could pierce the head of a teen behind him.

    Ugh, guess we''ll have to do it that way.

    Before anything else, he used mana to promptly cool down the blood and water in Koven''s hand and freeze it. It was the hand that was holding the dagger against the child, and he didn''t want that kind of thing to happen. He was glad he had done that first, because without waiting for Azcheron''s signal, Aldaron, Vara and a few other eagerly jumped in and started killing and dismembering everyone.

    Azcheron didn''t really need to do anything at this point. Vara was especially zealous in her slaughtering of the mercenaries. He couldn''t understand why she was aiming her wind blades at their guts and crotch, but whatever. He threw a few magic missiles for good measure when he thought a mercenary could do something dangerous, like, managing to swing his sword before his arm got unattached. He noticed that some limbless people were being left alive, for more atrocious purposes once the battle would end.

    Soon enough, Azcheron had a bloody mess on his beach. He glared at Anton, trying to make him understand that he was responsible for this catastrophe.

    I can''t have red sand on my island. It looks evil. This is the kind of thing that makes dark castles and devilish lairs... well, dark and devilish. You know, red bloody ground, burnt blackened bricks, and bones everywhere. He did not find that these sorts of environment were the most comfy.

    Then the noise started. Said noise would be screams and sounds of bodies getting mutilated. Azcheron turned around and avoided looking because he found it distasteful. He just had time to catch a glimpse of Koven, who, surprisingly, had survived the whole ordeal. He didn''t have to watch to know what was being done to him. The sounds of crushing and tearing and slicing and whatnot, were more than explicit enough. The mother of the hostage child must have been very very angry with the perpetrator. Better her than Azcheron as the executioner. Even if he had loose morals, he had a small sense of justice and some work ethics. He''d let people who wanted revenge, take revenge.

    In any case, he walked toward Anton, who, like him, didn''t exactly want to bear witness to the aftermath of the fight.

    Azcheron was planning to scold him and laugh about this strange episode, but now he was not really feeling like joking around anymore. He realized that the situation could have taken a turn for the worst. For instance, he could have failed to protect the child, or Koven could have decided to cut the kid''s throat as soon as he caught him, had he been fuelled by anger and fury.

    It was not a very careful way to take care of this issue. Anton''s words came back to hit him. The old bastard had already expected Azcheron and Koven to act like that. He even warned the Saint.

    I''m a crappy friend. I have to admit, he really is wise.

    Or maybe it didn''t take a genius to figure that the Saint and lord Koven would not become the best friends ever.

    At least now Azcheron understood something. He really was unfit for responsibilities and the like. This... could be the pretext he needed. He''d have to consult with the others once they were done spilling even more blood on his beach.

    For now, he''d go talk to Anton. He was about to open his mouth, but Anton called out to him before.

    ¡°Azcheron.¡± He wore a sad look. Azcheron let him carry on. ¡°I''m sorry. I should have been able to prevent that. I endangered the village by failing to stop this man from coming here.¡±

    Heh. He really is a great friend.

    Normally Azcheron would let him drown in his guilt and everything, because it would amuse him, but right now he did not feel like being a jerk. He was acting like a rascal on a regular enough basis anyway.

    ¡°It is not you fault, Anton. I have only my own carelessness to blame. I have to admit that I underestimated this man. Yet I thought I knew all about the world and the men and the cruelty, the stupidity and whatnot. In the end, I was not any less conceited than this man.¡±

    Anton stared at him with a complicated expression. He must have been surprised and relieved at the same time, to hear from Azcheron such a thing.

    But it was the truth. This would serve as a good lesson. Azcheron might have been strong and smart, but what was the point if he couldn''t deal with dumb and weak people ? He glanced sideway to see his father and a few other approaching. He waited for everyone to arrive, then spoke.

    ¡°Father, Anton. I have decided on something.¡±

    Aldaron and the old man already probably had an idea about what he was going to say, because they didn''t look surprised or anything. He carried on.

    ¡°As of today, I deem myself no longer fit the be the Rahal Saint. I would like to vacate the position, though I know I can''t simply do that.¡±

    The others seemed puzzled, but they kept silent nonetheless. Azcheron knew this was a sudden decision, but he didn''t think he really wanted to stay here all his life.

    ¡°It seems the Rahal Clan is starting to suffer from being secluded from the world. I assume you understand where this is going.¡±

    Anton looked at Aldaron, who in turn nodded.

    ¡°Speak your mind for all to hear, Azcheron.¡±

    ¡°I will leave the island. This is partly me sanctioning myself, partly me being selfish.¡±

    ¡°What do you plan to do ?¡±

    ¡°See the continent, for a start. I may have known the world through books and Anton and mother''s stories, but I ended up underestimating it. I will travel the land and meet its people. I do not know when I will return. In any case, the Rahal Clan needs to acknowledge the world as it is, and the world will in exchange learn about us.¡±

    No one seemed to be against the proposition. Besides, everyone was aware that Azcheron had always been very curious about the world, and that he had always wanted to journey across the world. He had read too many legends and epics to just stand still, and if there was an aspect of him that he himself would deem childish, that would be the whole adventuring thing. It was a desire that had been creeping up for eight years, after all.

    This mess with Koven was the pretext they needed for it to happen. The others looked like they understood. And the clan could benefit from his experiences. Still, Aldaron voiced a concern.

    ¡°What about the Rahal Saint''s position ?¡±

    ¡°I already have a suggestion.¡± Azcheron glanced at the twelve year-old black haired girl. She hesitantly walked toward him. ¡°Mirna. You are the next Saint.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure about it ? She''s still young,¡± Vara inquired.

    ¡°As her mother, you should know of her might. She will have no trouble. I do believe, in fact, that she could reach the previous Saint''s level.¡±

    And if Azcheron said that, it was no small thing. The previous Saint was his mother. She was really powerful as a mage, second only to Azcheron because he more or less took ¨C relieved her from, in fact ¨C the post when he was a child. If there was anyone in the clan who could catch up to her, that would be Mirna.

    ¡°Also, remember that I was younger than that when I got the post. And she took part in today''s events. She won''t make the same mistakes as I did.¡±

    Vara and Mirna gave their silent agreement. They seemed to understand that Azcheron wouldn''t budge.

    But everyone here knew that he couldn''t just relinquish his status, as per the traditions of the clan. Mirna would merely be acting as the head in his stead while Azcheron would still be the true representative of the Rahal during his travels. As long as the Saint was the strongest Rahal, he had to remain the Saint. Only when he died or was surpassed, he would be striped from the rank. It was a considerably impractical rule, but it was based on the assumption that the Saint always stayed on the island to protect it.

    From what, in the end, nobody knew. It had been so long that the Rahal''s isolation had erased any trace of their past.

    ¡°If there''s no other objection, then ?¡± Since no one answered, Azcheron turned to Anton. ¡°When were you planning to return ?¡±

    ¡°Since you did not destroy the ships, we''re good as soon as the rowing boats are repaired. I take it you''ll be accompanying me.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. We''ll depart in a few weeks, so I''ll have time to wrap up the affairs of the clan. And think up something regarding the consequences of Koven''s death.¡±

    They walked back to the village while they kept talking. The sky had started to darken, as it was already the end of the afternoon. They didn''t know if they would have the usual feast tonight.

    What they knew was that Azcheron would soon leave the island he had known all his life.

    Ah, they would have to clean the beach before that.

 4 - Beginnings IV

    ¡°Perhaps I should write about the locals'' way of life. The Rahal Clan speaks fluently the Common tongue, although between themselves they mostly use a complicated dialect of their own. Their customs and etiquette doesn''t look that much different from the Empire''s. Some feel somewhat archaic, but that''s about it. From what I''ve seen, the regular attire consists of a simple light coloured gown or some sort of toga, the kind that hasn''t been worn since the Empire''s early times. Linen or cotton pants and mundane sandals or leather boots complete the set. For the cold days, they use feathered coats instead of furred ones. Quite frugal, but elegant in a way, I must admit.

    Major disparities however lay in their upbringing and the hierarchy of the village. I''ve noticed that some gowns are more or less decorated with embroideries. Gold, silver or crimson colours appear to be worn by higher ranked Rahal. I witnessed some sort of reverence, an almost religious respect directed to these individuals. What caught my interest was the fact that some of those high ranked gown-wearers were mere children. Perhaps this has to do with what I came here for in the first place...

    -Anton''s diary, 1<sup>st</sup> journey to the island¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°The sun was setting and the sky casted a warm, soft light upon the port city of Longhills. It was the in fief of lord Koven, and news of his supposed demise had been circulating for a few weeks. Despite that, the town wasn''t thrown in disarray or anything. Proof being that as usual, while the evening would soon come, the streets were getting lively, especially around the port. As Longhills was a costal city, located in a favourable place for trade, with the quickest access to the islands, the day would see many merchants and travellers doing commerce, while when night approach taverns and streets would become crowded with sailors and all sort of people.

    Two men stepped on the quays. They just had gotten off their ship after a long travel through the many islands close to the continent.

    These two people had initially planned to come here months earlier, but for reasons known only to few, had deemed wiser to wait a bit longer. As they delayed their arrival, they had been visiting and staying at the neighbouring eastern islands. They recently decided to finally land on the continent since the tempest season was about to begin. Not a lot of people really wanted to be on an island, lest a boat, in such times.

    While they walked the streets, the younger of the two spoke.¡±

    ¡°... Err... What the hell are you talking about, Azcheron ?¡±

    Yes, that would be me, by the way ! I believe I''d make for a good narrator. I''m thinking it''s a proper beginning for the epic tale that will be... my... epic tale. Eh, I can''t think of another denomination. I''m not bragging or anything ! It''s just that I have ambitions. No one should judge me.

    Well, anyway, Azcheron spoke.

    ¡°So this is Longhills, huh. It does seem nice and lively. I hate to admit it, but the imbecile seemed apt at managing a city,¡± Azcheron said, ignoring Anton''s confused question, while looking at everything. The people, the streets, the houses. He had read and heard about everything in books, stories and whatnot, but it surely was something else to witness all this at first hand.

    Especially these houses. Very different from what they had on the island. Here it was all stone, two or three floors at least, and each level extended slightly beyond the previous one. It gave the feeling of opposed houses forming an arch as they grew higher. Very curious.

    ¡°Why, of course. It''d be pretty hard for this town not to be prosperous, considering all the things it has going for itself,¡± Anton answered, obviously not knowing what to think of his friend''s enigmatic narration attempt, which he could not possibly comprehend. Anton probably hadn''t any habit of living his life like it was a tale or a legend. He must have been thinking that he was a responsible adult, not a teenager living in a whimsy. That was what the Saint assumed while reading Anton''s complicated expression.

    As Azcheron forgave the strange look on his friend''s face, and the obvious belittlement he was the target of, he noticed many people also eyeing him in a strange way.

    I must look like a foreigner or some country bumpkin who has never been in a city. Which is true. However I perfectly dislike being designated as such. I should warn these people. Please call me an ambassador or a mysterious traveller. Whichever you prefer. You know what happens if you don''t. I''ll feel disrespected. That means beheading or something.

    Well, he was not saying that out loud. He was gathering enough attention for the moment, and didn''t want to have the city watch going after him because some old woman went and told them he was threatening everyone. Azcheron was supposed to build a good reputation in the continent. Or else they''d think his clan were all barbarian and they''d send fleets to exterminate everyone, or some other displeasing scenario he''d rather avoid.

    ¡°I suppose so.¡±

    ¡°Right then. Let''s find someplace to spend the night. I''ll show you the real lively side of the town.¡± Anton smirked, and led them to an inn.

    * * *

    They arrived quite late to the town and the taverns were almost already filled, so the search turned out to be tedious. They finally found a place that wasn''t entirely booked. They opened the door and entered with fashion. First impressions were always important. Azcheron saw some lone drinkers and prowlers giving them glances and trying to look tough. But most people were in groups and too busy loudly chatting and having great banter to care about the newcomers.

    Yes, they were loud. It was getting inconveniencing. Would they really spend the evening and the night here ? Azcheron had to voice his concerns to his friend.

    ¡°Anton, I knew sailors could get noisy, but this is almost annoying.¡± He frowned.

    ¡°Funny that you''re the one saying that. You Rahal people almost make me go deaf every time you speak in that imperious voice infused with sound magic,¡± the old man mocked.

    Hnnng, that may be true but we do it on purpose, at least. And it''s usually either me or Vara. Only one at a time. Here there are like fifty of these noisy bums !

    Azcheron didn''t bother to answer and simply snorted. Anton carried on.

    ¡°And well, I wouldn''t have it otherwise. At least grant me this favour. Soon I''ll have to return to those gloomy cold rooms where you only hear a chair creaking from time to time, that is the Academy.¡±

    They approached to counter to rent a room. The woman attending made them wait a bit while she was busy dealing with a mountain of order. Either they were understaffed, or they were having an unusually successful evening. Finally, it was their turn.

    ¡°Sorry for the wait. What can I do for you ?¡±

    ¡°Two rooms, please. And...¡± Anton turned toward the Saint. ¡°Are you hungry, Azcheron ?¡±

    ¡°Hm. Lady, what do you recommend us ?¡±

    Azcheron noticed the receptionist taking a moment to eye him. He wasn''t surprised. He had long flowing blonde hair loosely tied up at mid-length, somewhere down in the back, and that kept going till the waist ¨C an uncommon hairdo around here, from what he saw. He must have looked like a gladiator from the south.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    But apparently it was his clothes that caught her attention. He wore an dull brown-greyish overcoat with dark feathers around the collar, and underneath he had a regular tunic with patterns and embroideries. He didn''t take the Saint''s gown, because it was fairly fragile and people would probably try to rob him, thinking that he was a prince of some sort. Unnecessary trouble. Like everyone else they crossed since they had arrived, the girl could surely guess that he wasn''t from the Empire.

    Not that he was purposely making it obvious, but in the end there was no real need to hide everything about him. In a few years, everyone would know about Azcheron and the Rahal clan.

    ¡°I''d say try the fish. We got a fresh batch today. There isn''t much else to eat right now,¡± She finally replied while hastily handing out the keys for their rooms.

    ¡°So be it. Thank you,¡± Azcheron answered, as Anton took the keys and grabbed a few coins from a pouch.

    Fish in a port, of course. I''m sick of fish. We''ve been eating that for months. Well, no use in complaining now. Soon enough I''ll be so far from the sea that fish will be hard to pass by.

    After going up in their rooms to put their luggage, Azcheron and Anton came back in the hall to have a meal and a drink.

    ¡°So when are you going back to the Academy ?¡± Azcheron asked.

    ¡°As soon as I can. I already had to extend my leave, so it wouldn''t do to delay my return any longer. I''ll need to meet with the current head of the town to tie loose ends regarding the disappearance of Koven and his men.¡±

    He thought for a bit, then continued in a lower voice.

    ¡°It''ll be a hassle, but we shouldn''t have anything to worry about. Officially, Koven Sarlas and his mercenaries left without me on their own ship not long after he got on the island and that''s the last we''ve heard of them. My crew aren''t idiots, so they''ll go with our story or keep their mouth shut this time to avoid trouble. I think they understand now how careless chats in taverns can turn for the worst. The rumours from the islands will do the rest.¡±

    They deliberately waited a few months to avoid coming back to Longhills at the expected time without Lord Koven. ''Conveniently'', rumours that Koven had died on the sea started to come from the neighbouring islands. Most spoke of pirates or shipwreck.

    ¡°Sorry about that.¡± He didn''t even try to look sorry. ¡°Still, the rumour with the pirates seems to work quite well. Are pirates popular around here ?¡± They had been hearing about it even before they came to Longhills.

    ¡°Something to do with the increasing banditry, I gather. It was already worrying before I came to see you, and it probably didn''t get any better.¡±

    Bandits, huh. I wonder if I''ll meet some. That would be interesting. Every good story needs bandits.

    ¡°Not that they would prove to be trouble for us,¡± Anton added, as if reading his mind. ¡°Are you coming with me to the capital ?¡±

    ¡°I was thinking about it. I guess I''ll take this as an opportunity to wander around a bit by myself. Can''t have you babysit me forever, old friend.¡±

    ¡°I had a feeling you''d say that. That''s fine, I guess. You''re more than capable to get by on you own. I don''t know if you''ll keep away from trouble but I don''t doubt you can get out of it easily,¡± Anton said with a smug face.

    ¡°Is trouble not a part of this world ? It would be a shame to miss on a chapter of the book.¡±

    ¡°As long as you don''t bring me any trouble, I don''t have anything to say.¡±

    They both chuckled and finished eating their fish. Azcheron did so with a reluctant expression.

    * * *

    Azcheron awoke to a creaking sound.

    What time is it ? The whole inn is silent. It must still be night.

    He kept his eyes closed and tried to breath as a sleeping man would. Waiting for the creaking sound to happen again.

    Did I imagine it ? Maybe I was so eager to start my adventure that I''m convincing myself that I already have thieves and assassins coming after me. Haha !

    But the creaking occurred again. Was it really coming from his room ? He couldn''t be sure. If it was, it was probably a thief that spotted him when they entered the inn. One of these lone prowlers sitting all by themselves. Loners were the worst. They didn''t have friends for a reason.

    Well, Azcheron had to admit that he was a loner, too. His only friend was Anton and they''d see each other once a year at best because of the old mage''s work in the capital. All the other clansmen were either like family, or were always acting like subordinates when they talked to him. It truly was a lonely job, being the Saint. So, he had nothing against loners ! Except those who came into his room to do whatever people who came into other''s room did.

    Hrmpf, guess I''ll use magic to blind the guy and see for myself what''s going on in this damn room.

    Keeping his eyes closed, Azcheron gathered mana in the room, then suddenly created an intense light. A groan could be heard. The guy was probably refraining from screaming his lungs out, because his eyes should be feeling like they were burning. However one could not scream in the room they were trying to intrude in, especially when the victim was sleeping in said room. When Azcheron was sure that the brightness had dimmed, he turned around to look at the culprit.

    He was... a she ?

    Eh, I didn''t expect that. That''s the girl from the counter. The heck is she doing here. She knocked to the wrong door if she thinks she can get some action with me. No, what the hell, she didn''t even knock ! That''s even worse. Either she''s a pervert, or she''s no pervert at all and she''s a damn thief. Or an assassin !

    Azcheron put Anton''s lesson in practise, and questioned her with words first instead of doing something rash like adding three new elbows to her arm.

    ¡°You want to die or something ?¡±

    Sure, it was not very original. But there was no way he''d act all polite with a thief, and he was elegant enough not to beat her up already, so, it was a middle ground. Azcheron was not particularly good at middle grounds. He either did very polite or very dead. His speciality was doing both at the same time. Polite threats.

    This time he had just woken up and he didn''t care, so it was fine.

    The girl looked at him like he was some sort of... nothing ? She couldn''t see him ? It didn''t seem like she had regained her vision yet. Was she faking it ? Or it maybe was because the room was really dark and she just had the combined light of five sun thrown at her face. Maybe his spell made her permanently blind. He repeated his question anyway.

    ¡°Are you deaf in addition to being blind ? You want to die or something ?¡±

    ¡°Uh... uh- err... I can''t s-¡±

    ¡°See me, yes, I know. That was the point of my spell. Are you here to steal me or to assassinate me ? Spit it out, and fast, or I''ll just kill you and go back to sleep.¡±

    ¡°Wh- ! What !? NO ! I work at the inn ! Listen !¡±

    Hrrah, this is going to take a moment, I can feel it. She really doesn''t look that threatening, but you never know. I''ll act as if she was a mortal enemy that I had to trick. And more importantly I''ll urge her to get on with it.

    ¡°Get on with it.¡±

    ¡°I, err... This is the room I normally use, but we had a large clientele tonight, so...¡±

    Eh ? Ah. I see. Well. In this case.

    ¡°I don''t care ! Why are you telling me this now anyway !¡±

    ¡°It''s just that I gave you the key without thinking, and, it''s fine, but I forgot to take my stuff out, and... err... I need it ? I used the master key to come in...¡±

    So it''s a thief stealing from its own room ? Right.

    ¡°Then take your things and get out. Then I''ll melt the lock after that because you are the fishiest person ever.¡±

    ¡°Sorry ! Thank you ! ...Can you tell me where the drawer is ?¡±

    ¡°You''re a pain.¡± Azcheron lit up a small flame to illuminate the room. The girl looked surprised. It seemed like she indeed just had trouble with the obscurity. He watched her as she silently went through her stuff, took a god-damn brush, bowed and leaved, all in a very prompt fashion. A brush. Damn fishy. It can''t be that he had to wake up and deal with an intruder, just because of a brush. He didn''t even want to know what she was really here for, he was too tired. Azcheron closed the door, melted the lock, and went back to sleep.

    They''d find another inn tomorrow.

 5 - Beginnings V

    ¡°Longhills is a fairly disgusting city. For me, who don''t like sailors and people pissing in the middle of the streets, it is something akin to hell. The town is noisier at night than during daytime, half the population consists of fat dockers and seamen, the other half are back-alley shady guys and unsightly girls. Can''t say I''ve ever spent a comfortable night in this town. You can''t possibly have a sleep worth the price of the room. When it''s not loud drunkards banging on the rooms'' door in the inn in the middle of the night, it''s the idiot thieves trying to lighten you from your possessions that wake you up when they god-damn feel you in your sleep. Do I look like I have secret pockets and pouches in my pyjamas ?! One time there also was this creepy girl trying to sneak into my room. I don''t know what she wanted because I promptly gave her a proper kick in the face and threw her out before she could do anything. My instincts told me to do it.

    -Anonymous traveller¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    The following day, Anton went to the castle to meet with a member of the Sarlas family to give his false bit of the story. Azcheron checked out a few stores and took a walk in the city. There wasn''t much new to him as he had spent the last months in port towns and villages on the islands. Apart from the sailor-filled night life peculiar to large port cities, he did not get to discover anything else.

    Azcheron had told Anton about the incident in his room. The old mage had some kind of proud expression, and even congratulated the Saint for not outright killing the girl. He felt like a savage barbarian child facing a haughty civilized citizen. Who did he think he was ? He''d slap him with a mana blast if he wasn''t so old, that scoundrel.

    In any case, the day passed quickly, in an uneventful manner, and they were spending the night in another inn as per Azcheron''s dearest wishes. He desired to avoid meeting the creepy girl once again.

    Who knows how many ''brushes'' she got in stock as a pretext for... whatever she does. Don''t want to know.

    Azcheron was not feeling guilty for ruining and melting the lock of her room with magic. She deserved it. That would teach her not to mess with the wrong people.

    She was lucky, in fact, because I''m a rather nice person as long as you avoid doing anything that''d provoke my anger, in which case I''ll behead you. Hm ? That sentence doesn''t really work in my favour. I''ll rephrase it. I''m polite but mess with me and I''ll behead you.

    Still not very good, but the main point was here. You didn''t mess with Azcheron.

    Well, in any case, she had been lucky. It could have been some strange sadist or a boorish pervert in Azcheron''s place, and it would not have ended well for her. Worst case scenario with the Saint, she''d have left the room with one or two broken arms, but otherwise she''d have been fairly untouched, both in mind and body. Arms aside.

    Now that I think of it this way, I''m feeling rather pleased about the incident. I got to show my good side. Surely she''ll see me in a positive light when she remembers me from now on.

    Not that he really wanted her to remember him. Azcheron was having enough trouble with him remembering her.

    Morning came, and they were both standing at the north gate. The capital was in the north-west of Longhills, but according to Anton the shortest road was through the north.

    ¡°Are you sure you don''t want to come with me ?¡± Anton said while fastening the saddler of his horse. He already knew the answer, but he still asked again.

    ¡°Are you already feeling lonely ? Don''t worry, I''ll find my way to the capital, even if I take detours. It''s not like you''ll only have a brief stay there. You''ll be stuck for quite a long time, no ?

    ¡°A few years, at least.¡± Anton looked dejected.

    ¡°Hahaha ! I admit I''m quite eager to see this infamous Academy that is able to make you do such a face by merely thinking about it.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure you''ll enjoy it. Our library will surely interest you. And you''ll be able to meet all sorts of people when you visit,¡± Anton replied while making a face that said ''once you do, I''ll make sure you share my misery''.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    Azcheron acted as if he didn''t catch that.

    ¡°I wonder whether I should go north or west. What do you think ?¡±

    ¡°If you''re planning to take your time with leisure detours, go west. You don''t want to be stuck in the north when winter strikes, and it soon will. It''ll come earlier than usual, seeing how it''s already cold here.¡±

    ¡°I thought so. How far is the capital by horse, by the way ?¡±

    ¡°I''d say a good month is enough. Might take a bit more this time because of those brigands.¡±

    ¡°Ah. I''ve read stories like that.¡±

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°Friends separating while there''s danger mentioned ¨C foreshadowing, I think they call it ? ¨C and then one of them tragically dies because of said danger.¡± Azcheron''s mouth twisted in a grin. ¡°Be careful, dear friend.¡±

    ¡°What kind of tear-jerking literature have you been reading ? That''s something you''d find in some of the less inspired tragedy books. Who brought you that crap ?¡± Anton said in a mocking voice.

    ¡°You did.¡±

    The old mage could only scoff. ¡°You should worry about them instead. I could make a living out of frying bandits if I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Actually, is that not what you did when you served in the army ?¡±

    ¡°Damn right you are.¡±

    With unexpected vigour, he jumped on his horse.

    ¡°Well then. Farewell, old man.¡±

    ¡°Farewell, brat.¡±

    And just like that, Anton rode toward the capital.

    Quickly thereafter, Azcheron marched to the west and found the western road, and began his journey.

    Azcheron didn''t bother to buy or rent a horse. He was fine with walking. He didn''t look like it, but he was actually in good shape and could boast stamina. Most of the Rahal clansmen didn''t care much for their body since they could do everything with magic, but his father encouraged him to exercise a bit, a least enough so that he would not be too dependent on mana.

    It''d prove useful if he had to survive and flee a fight because he ran out of mana. Not that the Saint could afford to run from a fight on the island when he is supposed to protect it. Or that he would run out of mana. That would be even more unlikely.

    But you could never be too careful, and setting aside his blunder with Koven, Azcheron was always careful. Well, not always. He was a playful person after all. Still, he believed he was at least careful when it mattered. Whatever that meant.

    But then someone careful would always be careful. Not being always careful would mean being careless. Frowning, Azcheron thought about what it entailed to be careful now that he wasn''t on the island anymore.

    Perhaps he could learn to use a weapon, or some kind of martial art, if the opportunity presented itself. He was thinking up ways to face situations where he couldn''t use magic freely.

    Therefore, while pondering all that, Azcheron was walking. He could use Manasprint anyway if he felt it was taking too long, though that''d defy the point of his exploration trip. As he strode along the dirt road, Longhills faded in the distance behind him. Soon enough only hills and plains could be seen on each side of the road with the faint shapes of mountains in the western horizon. The mountain range would have to be tremendously huge for him to be able to see it from here, where everything else was hidden in the distance of the hills.

    Longhills. Figures. I do hope the places here aren''t all named in the same fashion.

    He searched through his bad, unfolded the map Anton gave him, and began to think about his travel plans. The west road led through a series of small villages bordering a large forest. He had high expectations, for he had never seen a forest aside from the one on the island. Then again it was more of a jungle according to the books, and it was still rather modest.

    A few weeks in from Longhills and he''d arrive at a town called Quarras, south-south-east of the capital. Supposedly trade was active there, so he''d be able to refill and observe the economy a bit. See what''s being bought and sold on a continental marketplace. Meet and talk with a couple of mercs perhaps, ones that he wouldn''t have to kill.

    Not that Azcheron felt bad or anything for the ones they had killed, back on the island. Mercenaries knew the risk of their own job. Hell, risk was the point of their trade, he''d say. But he wanted to avoid killing every mercenary he''d meet. They were part of the continent''s folklore, after all.

    I could even become a mercenary. I''d be the strongest ever, I''m sure. But no. It wouldn''t do for the Rahal Saint to be led around by an employer, probably a noble at that, and do menial tasks like finding his dog or protect his life.

    Regardless, I''m looking forward to this trip. I wonder what kind of people I''ll meet, what kind of enemies I''ll make.

    Why would he make enemies, you ask ? It was obvious, every good legend needed antagonists.

    But for now, he simply walked on the dirt road, gazing at the mountains in the far far west.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, having found an easy opportunity to make the reader cry, depicted Anton meeting his demise during his return trip, fighting bravely to the death against a horde of lawless ruffians.

    History tells of a much less coloured truth : when he went back to the capital, Anton did not meet bandits. He actually didn''t encounter anything worse than a beggar snatching his boots.

    But the story of Anton''s bootless arrival to the capital shall be spoken another time ¨C or perhaps never, its protagonist being fairly displeased with it ¨C, for the legendary mystery of the Great Cursed Forest is now about to be told.

 6 - Sightseeing

    ¡°I came across a grand forest, a week away from Quarras. Supposedly, the forest was cursed, because people were inexplicably getting lost in it. I don''t know about that. I think they just don''t have any sense of direction. I tried to get lost myself, having pity and trying to indulge in the local folklore, but aside from a conspicuous couple of young healthy people having ''evening practise'', I found nothing of interest and had no trouble finding my way back, after proper observation of the... fauna, yes.

    -Anonymous traveller¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    The forest ! The forest ! Azcheron was finally inside the forest. The biggest he had ever seen. Well, he had only seen two forests including this one. But this forest was huge, in any case.

    The villagers told him that an unsuspecting wanderer like him could easily get lost. It went along those lines.

    ¡°Ye'' kiddy gunna ge'' lost, y''know ? Yerr'' jus'' a brat by them looks of ye'', with yerr pretty skin an'' shiny hair. Dun'' t''ink ye'' got what ye'' need to take on the fores''. Coupl''of guys wen'' in recently an'' they dun'' come back no more.¡±

    It had been two weeks since Azcheron left Longhills, and he just arrived to the second village on his list. The first one was way too far from the forest so he ran until the next one, frustrated. He hadn''t slept for more than twenty hours and although his magic allowed him to get to the second village by nightfall, he was still very tired.

    He was also a bit angry with himself that he already used Manasprint when his trip had just begun. He wasn''t as fast as a horse with this spell, but it would still greatly reduce the duration of his trip if he used it too often.

    When he went to the one and only inn to ask for a room, he made small talk with the inn-keeper and mentioned that he was planning to go to the forest the next day. That''s when a drunk villager came to him pointing out his apparent unsuitability for forestial expeditions.

    An already frustrated Azcheron had to refrain from blasting the man with a magic missile. He quickly went to sleep and the following day, before dawn, entered to the forest as planned. He took all his luggage with him, as he didn''t know if he would be going back the the tavern.

    Before leaving, he had bought a compass from a villager ¨C the man seemed to have several compass ready for selling, as if it was a regular occurrence ¨C in case he did get lost. It was highly unlikely, but if it turned out that the forest had some magical contraption somewhere or a natural mind barrier, even the smartest explorer could lose his way.

    Obviously he didn''t speak a word of it to anyone else, and especially not to the drunk man. He still had to maintain an image of pride and confidence. He was the Saint, and the Saint knew neither shame nor challenge. The Saint did not, ever, fear he could get lost ! Getting lost was for the common people and the unexceptional living beings.

    He was eager to see if his suspicions had any truth to them. The drunkard''s words made him wonder. Not much was known about the forest and it would seem that people did usually get lost in it. There was apparently a group that disappeared recently, but he wasn''t worried.

    That''s something I read about a lot. Mysterious forests where people get lost and disappear. But I guess most of the time they''re just idiots who starve to death or get eaten by the fauna.

    The whole thing did have a mysterious feeling going on. Perhaps there really was something magical about it. Perhaps there was a mystery to solve. He could get famous for that. It was an alluring opportunity.

    The trees were large and had grown fairly high. It did not seem that there were any normal trees here. These ones were maybe three or four times the size of a regular tree. According to encyclopedias, anyway.

    Azcheron could easily feel the mana in the forest, so it may have been the reason for its abnormal growth. But then forests were always places rich in mana, or so they say. And the trees on his island were big, but not of gargantuan proportions like here, where the mana density was less than his home''s. Some creature might be consuming the missing mana, or it could simply be that his senses were dulled or misled.

    Azcheron was sure of it by now. Something was going on in the forest.

    While he walked between the trees, checking both his map and his compass, he made his way towards the next village. That way, if he didn''t come across anything interesting, he wouldn''t have wasted his day.

    He would actually be gaining time by crossing the forest. He''d save about a day''s worth of walking. The road between the second and the third village was meticulously avoiding a long chunk of forest that extended outward. It wasn''t practical at all, but apparently the majority of people would rather lose a day than cut through the forest.

    Azcheron didn''t care, so he''d be getting to the village via the forest. And as he did, he found something. He smirked, for he now had an idea about the now short lived mystery.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    Fresh footprints. Lots of them.

    It turned out to be simple. In the end Azcheron could not help but be disappointed, his ''mystery'' had found its solution after a mere few hours. He didn''t even have to search for it, he just came across the last hint by sheer luck.

    People weren''t just getting lost, they were indeed magically getting lost. People didn''t disappear without reason, they either started to live in the forest or were killed by its inhabitants. The missing mana was being used or consumed in one way or another.

    Azcheron came to the conclusion that people were living here, and probably not wanting to be disturbed, used an illusion or a barrier to send visitors away. Possibly killing those who posed a threat.

    The missing mana must have been used by some sort of artefact, which would be incredibly mighty since it looked like it consumed a lot of power and must have been taking effect on a vast area.

    That or someone simply casted a strong spell while some unknown entity was feeding on the forest''s mana. But that last possibility was too much of a coincidence for Azcheron.

    That meant there could be a secret village hidden somewhere in the forest, or that some dangerous psychotic murderers with an absurdly potent artefact were freely running around. Such prospects were equally interesting in Azcheron''s mind.

    But he knew the truth would probably be less exciting. The most plausible and boring explanation was that there was a group of hobos of some sort, living in the forest and scaring away explorers and more likely beasts. They must somehow have gotten hold of the artefact and didn''t entirely realize its value, merely using it to maintain their lifestyle.

    For this reason he went in the same direction as the footprints, toward the border of the forest. He could have gone where they seemingly came from, deeper in, but he didn''t feel like doing that now that the disappointing cat was out of the bag. He''d rather go toward the outside and carry on his trip, than check out some empty tents around campfire.

    That didn''t firmly resolve the disappearance issue but then they either joined the hobos or they died for some reason. The guys living here might not be responsible at all.

    So, Azcheron was disappointed. Earlier he was already imagining poems and epics about him bravely going to rescue the poor souls who got trapped by the dangers of the Great Cursed Forest. Name open to change. What''s the name of that forest anyway ? There isn''t anything written on the map. Well, it makes the forest seem even more mysterious.

    People would tell the stories of ''Azcheron the Forest Walker'', whose mind made the mysteries of the world crumble by the dozen.

    Forest Walker... No, that''d make me sound like an Elf or something. Can''t have that. Maybe I could have the forest named after me, instead ? The ''Cursed Forest of Azcheron''. Well it wouldn''t be cursed anymore ¨C not that it was cursed in the first place. The ''Eternal Forest of Azcheron'' then.

    Half thinking, half following the footprints, he noticed at some point that they were leading toward the next village, where he had been planning to go. He cheered up as that made things easier for him.

    The trail went on for some time. Azcheron could not see the sun because of the leaves, but he guessed that at least a couple of hours as passed. He was getting hungry so he made a brief stop to eat and think a bit.

    The forest inhabitants being lunatics killing off trespassers was still a decent possibility. That meant whatever their reason was for closing on the village would not be a good one. However, those guys going to the village in broad daylight could also mean that they weren''t ill-intentioned. Maybe stealing some food at worst.

    If you opted to live in a forest with no comfort and personal hygiene, you either had to be a criminal or very poor. Or an Elf ¨C in that case you probably had a treehouse, and you were one of the cleanest person in the world.

    At least that''s how the stories go. I''ve never met an Elf yet. What if they turned out to be just dirty slobs living in forests ?

    As he had no way to know which answer was correct without checking their camp for hints, he prepared himself on the off-chance he was unknowingly following a family of unclean murderers.

    He tried to convince himself that he could still work with something like ''The legend of Azcheron and the Blood Forest'' or ''The Inhabitants of the Death Forest''.

    * * *

    When he finally exited the forest, the sun was about to set behind the western mountains. He stood on an slightly elevated hill and from here he could see the vast plains being coloured in a red-orange tint.

    Fortunately, the village was close by. He could almost see its people from the hill. Was there a festival of some kind ? They seemed to be dancing and making noises.

    Metallic noises.

    Screaming noises ?

    Something was wrong.

    Azcheron understood in a instant. They were certainly not dancing. They were fighting, dodging and dying.

    He ran toward the village, swiftly sticking to the trees, making sure not to be noticed until he knew what was going on.

    As he closed on, he could clearly distinguish the attackers and the defenders. The later were villagers cowering behind a small group of soldiers, perhaps mercenaries or knights. The former were bandits.

    Bandits ! Azcheron strangely felt less dejected about his forest mystery. He was almost spot on. Unclean murderers it was, indeed.

    Of course, a seemingly cursed forest was a proper hide-out for the lawless.

    He felt compelled to help the villagers as he remembered the carnage in his hometown. There seemed to be more bandits than he remembered counting according to the footprints. They must have separated at some point in the forest to attack from multiple sides.

    Observing the village, he could estimate about thirty or forty bandits alive, assuming some were being hid from his sight by houses or were busy pillaging.

    The knights were clearly loosing. There seemed to be only a few civilian casualties for now, but the knights were being slaughtered.

    He hesitated to cast a large spell on the bandits, but the risk of it affecting the villagers was high, since everyone was somehow grouped. It was almost the same situation as the hostage one with Koven. Being reminded of that pissed him off.

    He quickly decided on his approach. He would have to let the remaining knights endure and maybe sacrifice themselves while he got close enough to act. Azcheron needed a clear sight of his targets if he wanted to dispose of everyone quickly and with precision.

    He ran with Manasprint, no longer caring about being spotted. Even so, the distance was not to be laughed at.

    He was almost there, but he could see the knights'' side wouldn''t hold any longer. Only one was still standing, the others were probably dead or unconscious. The bandits were already starting to grab and drag some female villagers away.

    I won''t make it in time. I have to get their attention, even for a moment.

    A smile flashed on his face as he immediately knew what he''d do. He was the Saint ! There was only one thing to do.

 7 - Sightseeing II

    ¡°I hears there''s some guys ''round here who says we''re sissies ! I''ll tell ye'' that we ain''t got no sissies among us and prove it to ye'' ''cause we bandits has only three rules !

    One, bandits gots to be mean and foul-mouthed ! We ain''t got no sissies and flower-loving guys here !

    Two, to become a bandit you can''t know how to read ''n'' write ! Those is sissy things !

    Three, no washing ! Keeping ''emselves clean ''n'' proper is for sissies ! No sissies among us bandits !

    Four, we ain''t got no time for tactics ''n'' strag... starteg... ¡­ we ain''t got no time for them fancy smartass tricks ! That''s for sissies !

    -Disclaimer¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    Under the crimson sky, the blood splattered on the ground had never felt so red.

    Amidst the guts and the bodies, Erin was still standing.

    She was extenuated and injured, but she stood her ground. She was the last one. All the others guys from her unit were most likely dead.

    They''ve been playing with us from the beginning. They could have easily crushed us with their numbers.

    Now they were playing with her. Cutting and slashing her, just enough to hurt her, but not kill her. She tried to defend and parry nonetheless, but they would have no difficulty in killing her if they got serious. That is, if they even decided to kill her without doing anything else with her first.

    She''d be lucky if she died fighting, actually. She must have killed at least a dozen of brigands just by herself. She didn''t dare to imagine what they could do to her if they wanted revenge.

    Erin was skilled enough to believe she wouldn''t lose against any of them in a duel, even blindfolded, but that was no duel : it was sixty versus ten at the beginning.

    She was smart enough to know how to get herself out of such a situation, but she wasn''t alone. Even with her comrades dead, she still had the villagers to protect. She would normally survive something like that by fighting freely without concerning herself with anybody, or by running away.

    But she couldn''t do that at the time ¨C she had morals, although loose ones according to herself, but still, she had some ¨C and now that she had gotten herself injured, she wasn''t confident she could flee even if she wanted anyway.

    The only way was to kill her way through.

    But in spite of her strength and stamina, she was too tired and they were too numerous. Some bastards had already started to pillage the houses and drag away the women, like they had already won. Which wasn''t half wrong, she thought.

    She had trouble breathing and blood was flowing on her right eye, blinding it, because of a large cut above it.

    She couldn''t move her leg as she wanted. Probably had something to do with the three or four arrows and bolts stuck into it.

    She felt she had a long wound on her left cheek but she couldn''t afford to check it. She would be left with a nasty scar after that.

    Heh, who am I kidding ?

    She had no idea on how to survive this right now.

    As she was readying herself for the next blow, there was loud cracking sound accompanying a brief but intense flash. It was so sudden that she almost lost her balance. When she regained her vision, she saw blood and fuming body parts. From the group of bandit circling her and the villagers, a large chunk was missing.

    She caught on what happened a moment before a deafening shout struck everyone''s ears.

    ¡°MONGRELS ! HOW UNSIGHTLY CAN YOU BANDITS GET ? REJOICE, FOR THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE ! I GIVE YOU A CHOICE, DIE OR BE DEAD !¡±

    Silence befell the whole village and a mumbling voice could be heard.

    ¡°Hm ? That didn''t go as I planned... Did I stutter ?¡±

    Did he mean ''die or be gone'' ?

    The bandits answered first.

    ¡°Who the fuck are ye'' ?!¡±

    ¡°Yerr'' a mage ? Oi ! He''s a mage !¡±

    ¡°Kill him !¡±

    If the wizard''s intention was to gather everyone''s eye on himself, it worked quite well, Erin thought.

    The bandits were now very wary of the mage who had instantly killed off a third of their number. Even those who were busy holding valuables or ripping girls'' clothes were now ready to fight him.

    With the man''s surprising and flashy entrance, Erin had time to catch her breath and have a brief respite. She was able to cool her head. The brigands were way too preoccupied by the new danger, and she wasn''t going to let this chance pass.

    As she buried her large sword in a ruffian''s back, she saw the strange mage jump high and landing not far from everyone.

    His face wore a large grin from ear to ear.

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron had just finished his dramatic arrival and stood in the main plaza''s entrance, which was also the village''s entrance, while the bandits were yelling something to him.

    Rhaaa ?! I messed up my entrance ! Me ! How could I ! Unfathomable. Back in the village I was always praised by Vara for my perfect proclamations ! Damn.

    Vara''s announcements are always the most stylish. She has a way with words, that woman.

    Still, it looks like it did the trick. Even the guys who were pillaging came to see me.

    He noticed that the last knight ¨C female knight, he finally realized ¨C was not losing any time and used the opportunity to savagely backstab a bandit.

    Good, he smiled to himself. I like my allies to be high-spirited. It is always important to keep one''s objective in mind and to react quickly.

    A grin appeared on his face, unbeknownst to him, as he insufflated mana in his lower body and jumped in the melee. They seemed surprised to see a magician come so close in a fight.

    He waved his arms, throwing magic missiles and mana blasts, while paying attention to the knight and the villagers as not to hurt them, and a few paralysing lighting bolts for good measure.

    Azcheron didn''t need to chant or prepare his spells, he had a sufficient mastery of raw mana to do without that. Artificial and vocal constructs just became a hindrance, passed a certain point.

    Well, he would not be lying if he said he was the best at manipulating raw mana on the island. Even Anton or his father weren''t as good as him. Mirna could catch up to him though, if she trained hard.

    Not that the bandits would care about that. They didn''t look like they cared to know why and how they were being thrown through houses or getting their limbs detached. Even if they did, they wouldn''t have the time. They probably just knew they had to attack, and fast, because they were being stomped on. Some tried bows and crossbows but the projectiles were getting blasted along with their users.

    Azcheron was throwing his spells quickly and accurately, while eyeing the female knight. He didn''t know much about swordsmanship, yet it was obvious she was fighting in a peculiar way.

    Although she looked dangerously injured, she twisted her body and rolled and moved with a certain nimbleness. All while swinging with strength a heavy-looking sword with one hand and expertly wielding a parrying dagger in the other. He''d expect such a dagger to be used with something like a rapier, but she seemed to do more than well with her large sword.

    By the looks of it, she couldn''t use one of her legs, yet she found means to fight nonetheless.

    He saw her bury her dagger in a tough-looking bandit''s shoulder and use his weight to catapult herself ¨C Azcheron couldn''t describe the scene otherwise ¨C toward a small group of enemies, whirling about with her sword arm extended as she landed amongst the surprised bandits, slashing through them and even beheading one.

    The tough bandit, although injured, tried to take her down, but she deflected his blow with ease and cleaved into him with an heavy overhead slash.

    The sword carved through the collar bone and the torso, finally stopping in his abdomen.

    With one hand ?!

    It was a too surreal a feat. Her sword must have been of really good quality, perhaps also enchanted. Or even her body, maybe. Or she was really really strong.

    Regardless, he was quite impressed. Her style was brutal but precise. He actually thought she was elegant.

    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    I''d very much like to see what she can do when she isn''t covered in bloody cuts and arrows sticking out everywhere.

    It seemed that Azcheron''s arrival gave her enough spirit and hope to push herself to her limit.

    But as he expected, she didn''t last long. Her movements were getting sluggish. Azcheron decided to wrap up the fight before she''d get killed. There weren''t many enemies remaining anyway.

    He took care of the closest ones to her with magic spears, aiming for the heads ¨C he seriously went for the kill now, he wouldn''t risk a lighting bolt failing to dispose of an attacker.

    He saw her falling on the ground at the same time, probably about to lose consciousness. At least now she was more or less safe. Setting aside her crap-load of injuries.

    He killed off the few brigands that were trying to approach the crowd of villagers. Those who were dragged away earlier had regrouped with the others, so it made his job significantly easier.

    Azcheron took a few minutes to go around the village and finishing off the last enemies. Some were about to flee, but since he couldn''t risk them coming back later, he decided not to spare them.

    Some moments passed and he came back to the main plaza. A quick glance told him that while a few villagers had died, no one seemed to be grievously injured. He could concentrate on the female soldier first.

    As he gave out instructions to the locals to gather the corpses together ¨C he had to look for the artefact ¨C and to bring him those who needed healing, he crouched next to the knight and could finally observe her from close.

    She looked older than him by a few years, and had very sharp and defined features.

    What he thought from afar to be blood-soaked hair was apparently her real colour. Deep, vibrant crimson, darkened a bit because of the blood ¨C hers, mostly.

    While examining the injuries on her face, he saw the deep cut around her eye. Lifting her eyelids to see the state of her eyes, he was surprised to see beautiful and clear light brown irises. Almost golden.

    Azcheron sighed in relief when he made sure she wasn''t going to lose her sight. He wasn''t confident he could heal that. That''d be a shame. Those golden eyes.

    He quickly but carefully removed the broken arrows puncturing her body while suppressing the blood loss with magic. Most of the cuts turned out to be shallow, but they could easily get infected, so he used a bit of mana to clean everything that could become nasty.

    Now he had to heal her. The healing arts were probably among the most difficult kind of magic there was in the world. Even Azcheron wasn''t very proficient in it. Almost no one was, actually.

    Healing someone was extremely demanding. Not only the mana required was highly taxing, because you had to manipulate and convert matter at an extremely small and precise scale, but it was mainly dependant on anatomical knowledge.

    Moreover, it had to be of a hellish and precise perfection. You couldn''t afford to screw up or the consequences could be as bad as the original injury. You had to be careful not to make a muscle regrow the wrong way, or clumsily patching up an artery. And then there were many things you couldn''t heal or cure.

    He had read in books about legendary mages that would chant some prayer and heal people fully without even knowing in detail about their condition, regardless of the seriousness, going from severed limbs and gouged eyes to plagues and mental illnesses, but he had never heard of anything like that existing in real life.

    That''s why healing magic was tremendously valuable. Anton had told him that some highly skilled doctors apparently knew a few tricks to enhance their practise, but there was only a handful of mages who had a real mastery of the art. From what he had gathered, most had spend all their life learning in some sort of temple in a far away country, and even they couldn''t always save their patients.

    The process was slow and delicate, and there was the risk that she''d pass away before he was done.

    Therefore, Azcheron could only afford to treat the more threatening injuries. Critical wounds, and the gash covering her eye in blood. So he didn''t spend too much time on the shallow cuts. He never took the time to correctly learn how to regrow skin tissues anyway. So, better let nature do its thing rather than try, fail and turn the whole thing into a bubonic mess. That meant the wounds would leave scars, including the long but relatively harmless cut that went from her left cheek to her jaw.

    Anatomical knowledge and regular medicine would have to make up for the rest.

    Believing he had done a fairly okay job, he asked the man who seemed to be the village chief to take care of her and to finish treating her others small injuries.

    He tried to look through the others soldiers'' bodies for survivors, to no avail. He still had to examine a few villagers, and after that, he would have to search the bandits'' bodies. There should have been a certain dangerous artefact laying in someone''s pocket, and he didn''t want some nobody to dispose of it like junk, or worse, realizing what it was.

    He''d sleep soundly tonight. The day had been tiring.

    * * *

    Erin

    Erin awoke with her eyes jerked open. Pained surged though her whole body. She took a moment to look around and realized she wasn''t in the middle of a battle.

    Where am I ? Looks like a bedroom. Did I sleep here ?

    She examined her aching body. She wasn''t covered in blood and there were no arrows stuck in her limbs anymore. She had a lot of bandages though.

    Did we win ? I survived, at least. What about the others?

    As she promptly tried to get up, she almost fell on the ground. She was still too exhausted for brusk movements, apparently.

    Erin slowly and carefully put some clothes and made her way through the room and opened the door, leading to what seemed to be the main room of the house. She recognized the old woman in the room, if she remembered well, she was the wife of the village chief.

    The woman noticed her and greeted her. ¡°Oh, you''re awake. How are you feeling ?¡±

    ¡°Awful. I''ll live, though, thank you. I take it I owe you my survival ?¡±

    ¡°My, I merely dressed your wounds after most of the work was done.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ?¡±

    The old woman told her how the strange mage healed her after the battle was over. Erin did not remember much after the wizard''s proclamation. She had pushed her limits and was solely focused on her opponents. She just knew he casted a few spells while she was fighting. She figured she must have blacked-out shortly after.

    ¡°How long was I asleep ?¡±

    ¡°A little more than two days. It''s morning right now.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°... Say, about you comrades...¡± The lady was hesitant.

    ¡°... I know. I figured that much. They didn''t make it.¡±

    ¡°I''m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don''t be. We were doing our job,¡± Erin replied, with a bitter smile.

    ¡°The mage is still there, if you''d like to thank him. He has been staying at the inn and helping around for the past days. Do you feel well enough to walk ?¡±

    ¡°I should be fine. I''ll do that then. Thanks again.¡±

    She exited the house and walked across the plaza. The inn was on the opposite side of it. Although the air was chilling, the village seemed to be active. People were busy repairing houses and bringing in firewood. It became a priority since the winter was coming sooner than they expected.

    As she calmly strode, she touched her face and finally noticed the bandages on it.

    I wonder if I''ll have scars. I guess so, I think I had pretty deep cuts. She thought while massaging her left cheek. She didn''t worry too much about the wound above her eye, as her bangs should be enough to hide it.

    She entered the inn and looked around. There was a blonde youth sitting in a corner and eating by himself, standing out like a sore thumb with his attire.

    He didn''t look to be older than sixteen, maybe seventeen, but she thought he could appear younger than he might really be, as he seemed to be a skilled magician. Young magicians were rarely that skilled, especially with healing magic. He was still younger than her, that at least she was sure of. The boy ¨C somehow she felt like calling him ''boy'' regardless of his age¨C saw her and waved her to come.

    As she sat down at his table, they quietly stared at each other for a bit. The boy had long blonde hair and wore a strange attire with feathers around the collar. He had remarkable eyes but the rest of his features, although sharp and rather pleasing for the eye, weren''t too unordinary. Yet his overall look gave him a sort of exotic aura.

    The inn-keeper broke the silence by asking if she wanted to eat something. After ordering, she decided to start the conversation.

    ¡°Good morning.¡±

    ¡°Hello. Did you sleep well ?¡±

    ¡°...Eh, yes, thank you. I heard you saved my life. You have my gratitude.¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry about it. Sorry I couldn''t help your friends.¡±

    She gave half hearted smile, showing that there was no helping it.

    ¡°We understood the risks when we took the job. I didn''t get to really know them for too long, but they were nice.¡±

    ¡°You''re a mercenary then ? I thought you a knight of some sort, with your armour and whatnot.¡±

    Well, that wouldn''t be too far from the truth either, she replied in her mind.

    ¡°Our band was hired by the lord of Quarras to help patrol the lands. The regular army soldiers are short-handed with the increasing banditry around here.¡±

    ¡°I figured something along those lines.¡±

    There was an awkward silence as they realized they didn''t know each other''s name.

    ¡°I''m Azcheron, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Erin.¡±

    ¡°What are you going to do now, Erin ?¡±

    She thought for a bit. She could go back to Quarras and either quit her current job or continue once she was placed in a new squad. But she didn''t really feel obligated to stay in the region. She had done her part already and it had left her with a bitter aftertaste.

    ¡°I''m not sure. I only joined the mercenaries for experience. Maybe I''ll travel somewhere after I take care of a few things in Quarras.¡±

    The idea made her uneasy. What would those guys say when they see her coming back alone, with everyone else dead, trying to leave the mercenary band ? Especially that guy Yaras. He wouldn''t simply let that pass, seeing as he had a few close friends in her unit.

    ¡°Mmh.¡± Azcheron was smiling. He was about to say something when his eyes locked on the counter.

    Erin turned to see what caught his attention. Apparently, it was just a rider delivering letters who had spent the night here and was about to leave for the capital.

    Azcheron got up and walked toward him. They exchanged a few words and the man nodded. The mage then turned to Erin, telling her to excuse him for a moment. He went upstairs, to his room, she assumed.

    After a bit, he came back to the main hall with paper, ink, and a pen. He stood next to the counter and started writing.

    So he''s literate. He''s a magician after all so that''s not surprising. And he has unusual but fine clothes too. Maybe he''s a noble from a foreign country ? Yet he speaks fluently without any apparent accent.

    Magicians were more of a unusual occurrence. Most were from nobility or at least educated families that could afford magic schools or tutors. It wasn''t all that rare to meet a mage for Erin in particular, as they often gathered in large cities with magic academies and places of military interest, and those were places she knew well. But a talented one that could also use healing magic, and not even her age, that she didn''t get to see everyday.

    After handing the letter to the man, with a few coins for his troubles, Azcheron sat back in front of Erin.

    ¡°Sorry for the wait. I had to inform a friend of something.¡±

    She nodded. The boy went on. ¡°I was going to say earlier that I was planning to visit Quarras next.¡±

    ¡°I see. You''re a traveller then ?¡±

    ¡°Mmh. I wanted to sightsee the country a bit more, but it turns out that I''ll be on my way to the capital sooner than I wanted.¡±

    ¡°Because of the winter, I guess ?¡±

    ¡°Right. The villagers told me I''d better not wander out there when it comes. And since my destination was the capital in the end...¡± He laid back on his chair. ¡°I don''t really know the way but whatever.¡±

    What a carefree attitude.

    ¡°Well, I''ll depart for Quarras as soon I''m well enough for the trip. If you don''t mind waiting for me, I could show you the way.¡±

    That''s the least I can do to repay him. And it''ll be much safer for me to travel with someone like him when I''ve not entirely recovered. Heh. ...Shit, isn''t that him doing me another favour in that case ?

    Azcheron beamed a large smile. ¡°I''d consider it a boon to be in the company of such a sword practitioner. I very much enjoyed your performance.¡±

    Why does it feel like he''s suddenly way too enthusiastic... And by performance, does he mean me blacking out in front of a horde of bandits ?

    She could only respond with an uneasy smile.

 8 - Sightseeing III

    ¡°The nature of magic, you ask ? Why would you want to know that !!? Are you planning to waste sixty years of your life trying to understand this thing ? Dear god. What are you, a student of professor Vardt ? ...Yes, I imagine that much. Only Anton and his bunch would try to play scientists and philosophers and look for ¡°the secrets of mana¡±. Pfah ! The guy used to be a decent mage, frying and freezing armies and cities, and look at him ! Now he only waves around his theories about magic and his stories about child prodigies on remote crap-holes he calls islands. So why don''t you go and ask HIM instead of wasting my lunchtime !

    -rant, Hector Talir, headmaster of the Academy¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    Azcheron and Erin left for Quarras the next day. The villagers gave them food and supplies as thanks, more than they needed, in fact.

    The trip to Quarras was about a week''s worth of walking. As neither of them had a horse, and since they didn''t want to burden the villagers any more by asking for one of their already sparse mounts, they had no choice.

    They didn''t mind, this would give them more time to get to know each other. Erin took a liking to the boy and felt indebted to him, and Azcheron had seemingly already decided she was interesting since he saw her fight.

    * * *

    Nightfall had already occurred and they had just lit a fire. Since Azcheron could use fire magic, they only needed wood. They were sitting next to the flames, waiting for the meat to roast.

    ¡°I''ve been wondering since the battle, but don''t you ever use incantations or spell constructs ?¡± Erin asked, thinking about how he ignited the fire without chanting.

    ¡°Oh. I rarely need to. I learned a few spell formulas but I''m much more comfortable with normal mana manipulation.¡± Azcheron opened his palm and mana gathered around it. He made the air swirl and spawned a few sparks to demonstrate.

    ¡°You''re using raw mana ? I''m not very knowledgable about magic, but isn''t it supposed to be hard to do it the way you do ?¡±

    ¡°So you already know about it. Indeed, it does require years and years of practise to be able to do it freely. Well, I''ve been doing it since a was a small child so that''s that. I''ve basically been taught how to twist, shape, convert, compress and whatnot the mana around me since I was born.¡±

    That''s impressive. That must have demanded a lot of talent and hard-work.

    She prided herself in her swords skills earned through sweat and blood, but magic appeared way more difficult to her.

    Azcheron continued. ¡°So most of the time, things like chants and catalysts are unneeded clutches to me. And I also almost never have to draw directly into my own mana pool.¡±

    She knew that there was basically two ways to cast magic. You either used raw mana, which you''d find in your body (your mana pool) or in the environment, or you used structured mana, which was obtained after converting raw mana with a chant, a catalyst or some sort other tool.

    Using unrefined mana was ultimately faster and allowed for much more flexibility, but it took a long time of practise, and concentration to get it right ¨C and if done badly it would be extremely inefficient, and a waste of energy. That''s why most mages learned how to use pre-constructed magic before everything else. This way they would get familiar with the inner-workings of a spell and then try to reproduce it with raw mana.

    The mana from your own pool was much more easier to work with, but its quantity was often very limited. The accessible mana differed for everyone but it was a precious resource regardless. That''s why people would rather preserve it for the most complex and delicate spells.

    A mage with a good affinity with natural mana could be deadly in a forest or others places with thick mana atmosphere, because he''d hardly run out of fuel for his magic.

    ¡°Aren''t you incredibly powerful then ?¡± Erin asked as she realized the extend of his might.

    ¡°Hahaha ! Well, yes ? But honestly, that''s about it. There are a lot of spells out there that I don''t know how to cast or that are simply too difficult, and surely even more that I''ve never heard of.¡±

    She nodded. She knew that while Azcheron could use healing magic, which depended a lot on mana manipulation, he had not a perfect control over it. Mastery of raw mana wasn''t worth the dedication if you didn''t know what to do with it. Knowledge and understanding of spells was another hurdle that came with it.

    ¡°Still, where did you learn all that ? I don''t know of any places that train children in magic to this extent.¡±

    ¡°It''s a tradition of some sort in my clan. But since we live pretty much isolated from the world, not many people know about us and in return there''s much we''re ignorant about.¡±

    Erin pondered in silence what she discovered. The crackling fire made her remember the food roasting.

    She grimaced. The meat was burned.

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron was in a merry mood. Erin had been asking him many things the past days and he was quite happy to indulge in her questions.

    At some point, they discussed about the categorization of spells and types of magic they knew of.

    ¡°I think it''s a common misconception in magic schools,¡± he explained. ¡°At least from my point of view, you can''t just separate spells in categories that easily. Everything is more connected than it seems.¡±

    ¡°But don''t some applications of mana turn out to be quite different from regular spell-casting ? Take illusion magic for example. It has nothing to do with a fireball or an enchantment.¡±Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°You''d be surprised. Illusion magic works almost the same way as purely offensive magic. Both are all about influencing the physics of the world in a specific area.¡±

    ¡°How so ?¡±

    ¡°Most mages don''t really care about that so that''s why it''s not widely known, but to cast a fire spell, you need three things : heat, fuel and air. These are in fact the things necessary for lighting a regular fire, and mana is just providing the missing elements. In the same way, ice magic is all about freezing an already existing liquid. Most of the time it''s water from the air or a river but it can be anything. Even blood. But you never, ever, create ice out of nowhere. In deserts and such places, I think ice magic would be highly inefficient, not because if would quickly melt, but because you would hardly be able to materialize it.¡±

    He paused to make sure she was following.

    ¡°Then, that''s the same thing for every single spell. You just use mana to force a phenomenon. You change temperature, create movement or convert matter. Mana can act as fuel for your fire and you can produce heat with it, or inversely, cool down and freeze water. By the way, that''s where manipulating raw mana freely becomes interesting, because you get to really understand what happens instead of dumbly reciting a chant that does everything by itself without you really knowing why it works.¡±

    ¡°And it gives you more possibilities and flexibility when you create a spell.¡±

    ¡°Exactly. Then what about illusion magic ? Well, it comes down to stimulating and tricking the target''s senses. And the best way to do that is by manipulating mana to induce specific sensations. You have to twist particles and physics in a precise way and in a precise area ¨C around the target''s body ¨C to create smell or to alter someone''s vision for instance. That would be really hard to do without a chant and even I can''t do it... But I''m fairly sure that''s how it works.¡±

    Azcheron hesitated to mention the illusion artefact that the bandits had been using in the forest, but he realized he completely forgot about it after finding it. He still had no idea about how it worked nor what it did specifically, so he kept silent about it.

    ¡°I suppose healing arts work in the same way ?¡± Erin asked, apparently having already caught on.

    ¡°More or less, yes. It''s even more difficult, however. You have to basically recreate organic matter, such as muscle tissues, bones and veins, from almost nothing. But that''s the trick, you can''t do that with nothing as a resource. Most of the time you''ll have to use air, dust and blood as a basis for the new materials. I can''t even begin to tell you how annoying this is. Converting matter is an extremely slow, convoluted and unrewarding process. Everything has to be perfectly planned in minute details, and it''s very easy to mess up. It takes an awful lot of concentration and time. Most often than not it''s so long that the patient dies before you''re finished. And you have to know what you''re doing. I couldn''t heal nerves and eyes injuries for instance, because I don''t know how any of it works. But in the end, setting aside the astronomical amount of work and knowledge required for healing magic, it works the same way as the others spells.¡±

    Azcheron felt somehow proud at the moment. He wasn''t boasting, he gave an honest explanation, but as he talked he realized that healing magic sounded seriously impressive. And he could use it. Hopefully it didn''t look like he was bragging. In any case, Erin seemed to be even more admiring of his talents now. She must have been thinking about the exhausting efforts it took to heal her wounded body. He did spend something like two hours of continuous mana manipulation on her most critical injuries, after all.

    Hah ! Don''t you dare worrying about that, he reassured her in his mind. I did it because I wanted to !

    ¡°Mmh. I see how it all comes from one main idea now. Cheating the natural laws of the world, that''s quite scary. There should be tons of things a mage with advanced scientific understanding could do... Actually, the people who designed some of those spells must have been monsters of knowledge ! And that means said knowledge is either kept hidden or has been lost with time... ¡±

    ¡°Exciting, right ? But ! Back to the erroneous distinctions between magic types. Did you know that enchantments and curses were actually the same thing ?¡±

    ¡°Eh ?¡±

    ¡°What does an enchanter do after all ? He casts spells with long or permanent durations. Most of the time, said spells are passive ones and are only slightly affecting the nature of something or someone. And that''s it. When I use Manasprint or any other self-enhancing spell, I just alter for a period of time my body''s constitution and perhaps the environment around me, like air density and resistance.¡±

    Erin nodded. ¡°And an enchanted sword is just a blade with magically enhanced hardness or with a lighting spell engraved to it, with duration as a goal.¡±

    ¡°So what''s stopping me from magically dulling a sword or messing with someone''s body with the exact same method ?¡± Azcheron questioned with a daring grin.

    ¡°Ah, I see where this is going. Curses are the same thing, but with negative and detrimental effects.¡±

    ¡°That''s the gist of it.¡±

    ¡°So it''s all about perspective. I guess there are some cases where the border between enchantment and curse depends on the person and the situation.¡± Erin thought for a moment. ¡°Like if I were to cast a spell that''d make me permanently immune to pain. It''d be a useful enchantment in a fight but anywhere else it''d be like a curse since I wouldn''t ever feel anything anymore. You could almost say that illusion spells are like curses then.¡±

    She catches on quickly. Did she really say she didn''t understand much about magic ?

    ¡°Did your clan teach you that ? They must be at the fore-front of scientific and magical research.¡±

    ¡°No, I owe it to my friend. He''s a professor at the Academy. Well, everything I told you is basically his theory about the nature of magic. He''s the man who instructed me on science and healing magic.¡±

    ¡°Ah, is he the one you wrote a letter to ?¡±

    ¡°That''s him. Since I''m coming there sooner that he thinks, I wanted to warn him of my arrival.¡±

    ¡°Warn him you say...¡± She chuckled. ¡°Are you planning to cause an uproar ?¡±

    Yes !

    ¡°Why, I would never.¡±

    * * *

    Just like that, almost a week passed. It was now dawn, they were about to start packing up their stuff. They made camp on a hill and from here they could see the walls of Quarras in the distance. They should be able to arrive to their destination before the end of the day.

    Before resuming their advance, Erin took a moment to check and clean her cicatrising injuries and change her bandages.

    ¡°Do you need help ?¡± Azcheron inquired.

    He could do all the cleaning, cauterizing and stitching with magic. That wasn''t healing per-se, but most magicians learned how to do this basic stuff even before trying their luck with the healing arts. That was even more of a given for spellblades and any warrior in general who could use a bit of magic.

    ¡°I''ll be okay, thanks. I learned how to dress wounds and keep them from getting infected.¡±

    ¡°Did you pick that up during your time with the mercenaries ?¡±

    ¡°... No, that was before then. I had already decided on what kind of life I''d live and I sucked at magic, so knowing first-aid and a few tricks was a must.¡±

    Mmh ? So she did try to learn magic... he thought. She didn''t look like she wanted to talk about it so he didn''t pry.

    ¡°Here, all done. We should get going.¡±

    It was an uneventful week overall. All they did was walking and talking. They didn''t encounter any brigands or beasts. They passed a few travellers going in the opposite direction, but they barely greeted each other and simply warned them about the recent bandit attack.

    As they walked, the tall walls of grey stone appeared rougher and sturdier with every step. They could see guards patrolling the walls and keeping watch at the gates. Beyond the walls, a few buildings boasting enough heigh could be seen, a castle among them.

    Finally, they arrived at Quarras.

 9 - Sightseeing IV

    ¡°Are you looking for brave men, strong men ? Are you in need of immediate protection, or do you wish for a rival lord to meet his demise ? Search no further ! The Black Pelt Company is the mercenary band YOU need ! Brave men, strong men ! We have them all ! Find us in Quarras, and for a modest sum, get brave men, strong men, to do your binding !

    -Advert for the Black Pelt Company¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    They entered the city without any trouble. The guards stopped them at the gates but Azcheron didn''t carry weapons or anything suspicious, and Erin showed them her mercenary badge. Her large sword was eye-catchy, and with her scars and her dented armour, she had quite the fierce look. Azcheron was amused that for once he wasn''t the one everyone was glancing at.

    Curiously, Erin didn''t seem to dislike the attention. If you were to ask Azcheron he would even say that she secretly enjoyed it. Well, maybe he had a biased opinion. People had the tendency to find their own traits ¨C especially their faults ¨C in others people''s personalities. Still, she was walking with confidence a few steps in front of him while they searched for an inn, as if she had forgotten that she collapsed in the middle of a battle a week before.

    No, perhaps she was walking like someone who had recently braved blood and cold steel, and dodged by a hair''s breadth the grasp of death.

    As Azcheron lost himself in thought, Erin, who already knew the city, had led the two of them to a decent looking tavern. She apparently chose an establishment where she knew they could bath. Erin still had dried blood and dirt all over her, and Azcheron, while he could clean himself with magic, hadn''t had a real bath since god-knows-when.

    They agreed to talk about their future plans the next day and both went to sleep in their respective room. In the morning, they had a quick breakfast and discussed the day''s agenda.

    ¡°I''ll need to report to my captain before I can decide on anything. In the worst case he could refuse my resignation and give me some crap about being under-staffed, or try to trick me with a shady contract or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Will you become a runaway then ?¡±

    ¡°No ? I''ll be stuck here. Why are you asking that while smiling ?¡± she said, frowning.

    ¡°Hehe, don''t worry. They''ll want to keep you because you look tough, but for the same reason they won''t get on your bad side.¡±

    I think ?

    ¡°How would you know ?¡± she replied mockingly, as if reading his mind.

    I don''t. But I''m always right ! The Great Cursed Forest proved it.

    ¡°Well, you''ll see soon enough anyway. How long do you think it''ll take ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know. I should be done by noon, hopefully.¡±

    ¡°I''ll talk a walk around the town then. Let''s meet back at the inn for lunch.¡±

    And he strode off without waiting for her answer.

    * * *

    Jormas

    The north gate was bustling with activity as merchants, travellers and workers were already busy outside in the cold morning.

    Jormas was unloading wooden crates from the last carriage of his caravan, pearls of sweat running along his forehead and his back. It was starting to get very chilly but the manual labour made him feel like it was still summer.

    He had arrived yesterday in the evening, and since everyone was tired from the journey, he and his employees had decided to unload and deliver the merchandise in the morning.

    As he stopped to take a look at the cargo, he turned and yelled something to his apprentice, who had mixed up a few boxes with his negligence. ¡°Damn brat still have a long way to go till he becomes a proper merchant¡± he mumbled.

    Jormas would rather unload all his cargo by himself because he felt others would make a mess out of his rigorous organization. He prided himself in his perfect monitoring of the merchandise and his clients trusted him with his job.

    He sat down and wiped the sweat while checking some forms and receipts. He saw feet walking toward him and was faced with a blonde youth in a curious feathered coat when he looked up.

    ¡°Good morning, brave man.¡±

    ¡°What can I do for you, kid ? Make it quick, if you can. We''re busy.¡±

    ¡°Mmh. I gather you''re a travelling merchant ?¡± He paused and waited for Jormas to nod. ¡°You wouldn''t happen to know of any caravan departing for the capital in the days to come, would you ?¡±

    Jormas stared at the youth for a moment. He didn''t look like an ill-intentioned thug yet there was something atrociously suspicious about him. Perhaps it had to do with the conspicuously mischievous grin plastered on his face.

    ¡°As luck would have it, I do. I''ll be returning there the day after tomorrow.¡± He squinted his eyes. ¡°Why ?¡±

    ¡°A friend and I are looking for transportation. We can handle the escorting stuff for whatever wage you deem right, if you''re willing to take us on board,¡± he said nonchalantly.

    ¡°I already have enough guards on my payroll. Why should I employ you ?" He took a long look around, and continued on a fake innocent tone. "And I don''t seem to see your friend in these parts.¡±

    ¡°Oh, she''s busy elsewhere. She doesn''t know about that for now. We''re plenty enough though. You could probably send your guards away and save a lot of money !¡±

    Hnng, what''s up with this brat ? Is he messing with me ?

    As if to answer Jormas'' thoughts, the blonde brat clasped his hands together before separating them, revealing a tortuous net of buzzing, crackling electric arcs, stretching from one hand to the other. The boy seemed amused by Jormas'' reaction.

    A mage, eh ? Now we''re talking.

    ¡°My friend''s a former mercenary. So, what do you say ?¡± he asked with a confident smile.

    Jormas answered with a grin of his own.

    "Come, boy. Let us talk inside, where it is warm."

    * * *Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    Erin

    Erin sighed as she exited her captain''s office. Ex-captain, mind you. He hadn''t been too hard on her. The guy was pragmatic and he had seen many things in his life. He surely knew that things happened when you were on a job and that sometimes you couldn''t do much about it.

    If anything, Erin felt that he was glad that she, at least, made it out alive. Maybe he could easily understand why she would want to leave the band, with the feelings of bitterness and guilt.

    Or, and the thought slightly displeased her, maybe he had been accommodating just because she was a girl, or worse, because of her name.

    I think he''s the only one here who knows about that. I''d find it annoying to receive favourable treatment any other day, but I''ll gladly take advantage of it this time.

    Just as she was thinking that the ordeal went swifter than expected, she saw a familiar face in the courtyard.

    Oh, come on.

    She only had to cross the courtyard. Then the gate. Then she''d be in the streets, going back to the inn.

    But no, obviously. She had to bump into him. And by the look of anger on his face, she could guess that the rumours about her squad ¨C his friends ¨C and her resignation had already circulated.

    ¡°Well, what do we have here ? That''s Erin if I''m not mistaken !¡± the man said, moving in front of her as she tried to bypass him.

    ¡°Hi, Yaras. Funny seeing you right when I was about to leave.¡±

    ¡°I know. That''s why I was waiting there. Waiting for the bitch to wish her good continuation !¡±

    ¡°That''s almost nice of you. I could do without the insult though.¡±

    ¡°Shut up. You know the reason I''m here.¡±

    Of course I do. And of course I know what you''re about to say.

    The man carried on in a clearly angrier tone. ¡°How does it feel to get your whole unit killed and then be able to walk out like nothing happened ?!¡±

    ¡°It''s great. Ever heard of survivor''s guilt ? It feels so refreshing.¡± She sighed. ¡°Look, Yaras, I''m sorry. I wish things had turned out differently. I wish I could have done something about it. And I tried, but it was hopeless. Trust me, I was here. I''m not trying to make excuses. Everyone died and I wasn''t able to prevent that. That''s all.¡±

    Yaras didn''t respond. She could guess what was going on in his mind. He probably knew he couldn''t pin down all the blame on her, but anger was messing up his thoughts. Seeing as this wouldn''t lead anywhere, she was about to walk around him and leave.

    But instead of blocking her path, this time he swung his hand at her face.

    A fist ? No, a slap.

    She swiftly deflected his lunge and pushed him aside. Seeing him not backing away and coming with another strike, she grabbed and pulled his arm, throwing him off-balance, and crouched to sweep at his legs. He fell on his side and after a moment, tried to get up, supporting himself on his elbow.

    Erin paused, waiting to see if he was going to stand up and try something else, but he just kept his head down. Then she glanced at his eyes.

    His look was still one of anger, but now, there was also and mostly frustration and sorrow.

    He wasn''t going to stand anytime soon.

    She only said in a low voice ¡°I''m sorry for your loss, Yaras,¡± as she started to walk toward the gate.

    * * *

    When Erin arrived at the inn, it wasn''t even noon. Seeing as Azcheron hadn''t come back yet, she went in her room and laid on her bed, bathing in the faint light of the sun coming through the window, her arms crossed behind her head. She closed her eyes and organized her thoughts.

    She hadn''t been a mercenary for very long. About half a year, but that time had served its purpose. She only sought real battle experience to test herself in life and death situations. She did face danger on a lot of occasions but it always went rather well until the last attack.

    Now she had gotten hold of something precious : experiences of both despair and renewed resolve in the face of death, and then, feelings of loss and guilt. In a way, her time with the mercenaries was a success.

    Now was time to decide what to no next.

    ¡°Decisions, decisions...¡± she muttered.

    She could become an explorer or an adventurer and travel the world.

    Winter was about to hit the Empire but in four or five months the snows would clear and she could go north and visit one of those ''heretic'' free cities everyone in the Empire was talking about. Maybe she''d get to be employed by a demon lord or whatever they''re called.

    It was probably all propaganda from these twisted imperialistic minds bent on conquest and hegemony. These cities''s relationships with the capital were as bad as they get, so bad that a war was bound to happen in the coming years. She wouldn''t have any trouble to find a suitable job worthy of her skills then.

    Or she could cross the westerns mountains and see for herself if the Desolate Lands were as barren and hostile as the history books say. Although if that was the case she''d probably die there, if she went alone. The stone golems weren''t the most friendly existence in this desert. Actually, there were the only thing you could encounter aside from sand and rocks. Then again, stone golems were made of sand and rocks. It would be an awfully accurate truth to say that there was only sand and rocks in the Desolate Lands. In any case, it was a very dangerous sandy and rocky place which she wouldn''t visit by herself if she intended to keep on living. Hell, even the rocks were sharp enough to kill you. And that was assuming she was able to cross the mountain range. Not many dared to try in decades, and for a good reason ¨C some dragons had decided to make it their new home.

    Of course she had thought about going back to the capital with Azcheron. He was fun to be with, and she had people there that she had not seen since she left.

    Well, that''s kind of the issue.

    Erin had left for a reason, and there were some people she wasn''t keen on meeting.

    I just wish I could change my name and ask Azcheron to teach me metamorphosis magic or something... she joked to herself.

    As she was considering her possibilities, someone knocked on the door.

    ¡°Yes ?¡±

    ¡°Oh, you''re already back.¡± It was Azcheron''s voice. ¡°Perfect then. Coming down for lunch ? I''ll be waiting.¡±

    ¡°I''ll be there in a moment," she replied before waiting to hear his footsteps fainting away in the corridor and in the staircase.

    She sat up and considered her options, but she was starting to get hungry. She took a deep breath and left her room to join Azcheron.

    She found him in a corner of the hall, arms crossed against his chest, surveying the room with a stern expression. When he noticed Erin he kept still, only following her with his eyes as she walked toward him. Two plates filled with meat and bread, next to cups and a jug of wine, were already served on the table. It was late in the morning, she didn''t feel like waiting until noon to eat, and apparently neither did Azcheron.

    ¡°Do you always sit in dark corners in inns ? And what''s up with the thug-like behaviour ?¡± Erin inquired as she sat and poured herself some wine.

    ¡°Hm. ''Tis an experiment. I wanted to know how those rogue heroes and mysterious-looking wanderers felt when they scrutinized people in a tavern.¡±

    ¡°I see. Conclusion ?¡±

    ¡°A fruitless endeavour. There''s no one to scrutinize at this hour except for the tenants and the occasional slob who overslept.¡±

    She let out a small laugh, and Azcheron looked her straight in the eyes. His fake ''watchful loner'' expression was gone and replaced by a genuinely sharp and observing one.

    ¡°Though you were worthy of my scrutinizing," he kept on. ¡°You somehow look slightly sad. Did something happen with the mercenaries ? How did your resignation go by the way ?¡±

    ¡°It''s nothing. I had to explain myself about... stuff. It went well overall, I''m now officially jobless !¡± she said with a smirk.

    ¡°Good to hear.¡± He paused and took a bite from a piece of bread. ¡°So, I got hired by a caravan for the trip to the capital.¡±

    Erin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Already ? You don''t lose any time, eh.¡±

    ¡°Of course. We''re leaving the day after tomorrow. What about you ? Do you know what you''re going to do now ?¡±

    As she hesitantly opened her mouth and kept silent, thinking about her answer, Azcheron carried on. ¡°Want to come with me ?¡±

    I''d like to. But I don''t know if I should. Erin replied in her mind.

    ¡°I... need to think about it," she said in a half-hearted voice.

    ¡°Well, look. Obviously you have reasons to hesitate, and I won''t ask if you don''t want me to. I figured you have your own circumstances and it has something to do with the capital.¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°I don''t know much about the ways of the Empire or its capital. But if you''re in some kind of trouble, you know I can take care of that. I don''t really have any connection to rely on, but that''s the point. I''m an outsider so I don''t have to care about the consequences were I to use force.¡±

    ¡°Thanks, but it''s not that kind of trouble. Nor is it something that I can''t take care of. It''s more of a hassle than anything. And even so, I would not want to drag you into some mess and cause you trouble.¡± She shook her head but felt honestly thankful toward him.

    Why would you go that far for someone you met a week ago ? She could not guess any ill intents. He was so quirky and whimsical that she wasn''t even that wary of him anymore.

    ¡°I''m pleased to know that. I actually didn''t intend to use violence or do anything too barbarian in the capital, unless it is really necessary. I have one last argument then. I''m only planning to spend the winter there. After that I was thinking about going west or north. In the meantime, I''ll check out the Academy, maybe get introduced to some important people. Who knows what kind of enemy I''ll make there ! It wouldn''t do if I were to be bullied or assassinated by a noble I unknowingly angered.¡±

    Here it is, that scheming smile. Though I don''t know if I''m the one targeted by his shenanigans or if it''s the nobility...

    Although Erin didn''t know much about Azcheron apart from the fact that he was an insanely skilled mage and the head of a foreign clan, she quickly understood one important thing about him.

    When he''s not thinking about wizards, dragons or whatnot, he''s definitely up to some mischief.

    Not that she wasn''t amused by that, on the contrary.

    ¡°I can guess where you''re going with this.¡±

    He nodded. ¡°So, I have a proposition. I know you just quit your mercenary job, but I''d like to hire you. You shall protect me from the many dangers of the capital ! You''ll get to visit the academy too since I decided to use their library. We''ll probably spend quite some time there. I don''t know what sort of scary mages we''ll meet but surely they won''t tolerate a commoner like me.¡±

    You don''t sound remotely credible. Not the slightest.

    ¡°If anything I think they should hire me to protect the capital from the many dangers of you.¡±

    ¡°Regard it as a favour you owe me for me saving your life, if you have to.¡±

    They kept silent for a while. Erin casted her unfocused sight into her empty mug.

    They both knew that the favour thing was a pretext and that he didn''t mean it. He probably didn''t care about it. But a debt was a debt. Erin could work with that. She could convince herself that way. That the debt was more important than her own personal issues.

    And after some time, she made her decision.

    Erin would go to the capital with Azcheron.

 10 - Sightseeing V

    ¡°My job is to run ! I like running ! Sometimes I have to deliver important letters ! So I run fast ! Sometimes I have to deliver important people ! So I run fast ! But not too fast ! Or else they fall ! After that, I eat ! I like eating ! The barns are comfortable ! We can sleep there ! Then sometimes I have to pull carts ! So I don''t run ! It''s heavy ! So I walk ! But I do it fast ! Or else the humans whip me !

    -Horse¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    Erin was evidently surprised to learn that Azcheron had already arranged for her tagging along with the caravan.

    The bastard had everything planned. I should have expected that. What if I had refused to come with him, or if I had been tied to Quarras by the mercenaries ? Did he plan to kidnap me ?

    Still, she felt grateful for having such a ''reliable'' companion. Whatever the reasons or basis he had to do the things he did, he was efficient and successful in his ventures.

    Seeing as they still had a day and half before leaving, they decided to shop in preparation for the winter. They bought cloaks, overcoats and fur covers, as well as enough food to last the trip without having to hunt or buy from the other travellers.

    The trip was supposed to take two months and quite a number of people had decided to join. It was much slower than a regular trip by horse, but the point of the caravan wasn''t speed, and so it was a popular method of transportation. After all, now was one of the last opportunities to go to the capital before the cold struck. If they waited too long, there would be no caravan willing to brave the roads in winter, and they would have to journey alone and in the freezing winds, which made the undertaking potentially dangerous, whether they had a horse or not. The winters were very harsh in the continent. Including the guards, there was about eighty people about to journey with this caravan.

    Erin already knew that, but Azcheron had heard from Jormas that while banditry wasn''t usually much of a problem on this road since the closer you got to the capital, the better it was patrolled, some desperate bandits unprepared for the winter could try to attack and loot one last time before the season came. The young mage looked somehow merry at the possibility of being attacked by said desperate bandits.

    Naturally, neither Azcheron nor Erin were worried. They could handle themselves, and most likely the whole caravan when Erin would have fully recovered, and that was not even taking into account the dozens of guards that Jormas had already hired.

    On that subject, Jormas seemed quite satisfied when he finally met Erin on the morning of the departure. She now wore a dark grey cloak over her worn out armour, giving her a sort of a errant and fallen knight appearance, according to Azcheron. He was very pleased with it. It apparently coincided with his idea of a warrior travelling the lands. Erin didn''t exactly know what to think of it. But she had to admit she enjoyed the description he made of her attire. She didn''t say a word about it, of course, as he would be forever annoying in his self-righteouness if she did.

    As for him, he simply dressed in his usual attire, and had a new fur coat that he kept in his bag, as he insisted that his current clothing was warm enough for the time.

    * * *

    ¡°This is boring.¡±

    Erin and Azcheron were guarding the front of the caravan, and the latter wasn''t pleased with the uneventfulness of their trip.

    They had left Quarras two weeks ago and still hadn''t encountered anyone or anything. The caravan was currently passing through a forest and Azcheron had deemed the place worthy of a potential ambush by bandits.

    Unfortunately for him, they had already crossed half the woods and had yet to be attacked by the esteemed ruffians. Hence Azcheron''s complain.

    ¡°Aren''t you bored, Erin ? I''m utterly disappointed with those bandits. We''re the perfect target here, what are they doing ?¡±

    ¡°I just realized that you''re the most insensitive person I''ve ever met,¡± she replied in a mocking voice.

    ¡°How so ?¡±

    ¡°You do know that most people don''t really enjoy being attacked by brigands ? I, for one, almost died because of that less than a month ago. You''re lucky I''m me because most people would just want to slap your face.¡±

    ¡°Right. Erin, thank you for being Erin. Your existence is sparing me many slaps in the face,¡± he said with a grin.

    ¡°Although I do agree that I''d rather be attacked now than when the cold come. Then it''ll be a real pain to fight with numb fingers and frozen armour joints.¡±

    ¡°Mmh.¡±

    They kept watch in silence for the next hours or so.

    Then at some point, Erin saw Azcheron looking to the side, toward the sky. No, it was wore like he was trying to look far beyond the top of the trees. Erin squinted her eyes and tried to see if there was smoke or anything that''d indicate the presence of people, but to no avail.

    Azcheron flashed a faint smile, and it didn''t escape Erin.

    Hmm. Did he spot something using magic ?

    ¡°Ah, that won''t do. They won''t notice us at this rate.¡±

    Oh great. I can already guess what''s going to happen.

    ¡°I''ll be right back,¡± he said to Erin. ¡°If Jormas asks, tell him I went to take a dump or something ?¡±

    She simply nodded. It was easier to just let him do whatever convoluted plan he had set his mind to, rather than trying to stop him. So she would keep her position like nothing was wrong.

    Of course, something was wrong. It only became obvious for everyone else when Azcheron came back running some three hours later, saying that bandits had spotted them and were on the move.

    His official stance was ¡°I stumbled upon them when I was relieving myself. They seemed to be preparing to attack so I immediately ran back here.¡±

    Are you sure it''s not something like ¡°I purposely ''stumbled'' upon them and purposely led the whole bunch back here¡± instead ? And who takes THREE hours to relieve himself ?!

    In any case, everyone was getting ready. They had an idea of the direction the attack would come from thanks to Azcheron''s generous guidance. The non-combatants went in hiding in the carriages while the guards laid a perimeter and prepared themselves.

    He came back next to Erin and whispered to her. ¡°Don''t worry, there aren''t many of them. I wouldn''t have done that if I thought they could be any trouble. There was a time I would still have done it, though.¡±

    Erin looked at him, confused. He probably meant to say that in a playful tone but there was a tinge of sadness in it.

    ¡°It''s fine. We''ll be getting some exercise that way. Let''s just make sure nobody dies on our side.¡±

    As she said that, the bandits showed themselves. They were barely a dozen and didn''t look particularly dangerous. Some were breathing roughly as if they were exhausted or very furious.

    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    But mostly, they seemed surprised. Almost as if they were following a lone brat and didn''t expect at all to run into tens of soldiers waiting for them.

    The staring quickly broke off into a melee fight. Most of the bandits had to deal with multiple opponents and died quickly. Erin took out two by herself, with a swing of her sword for each one. Azcheron threw some paralysing bolts for appearance''s sake but neither of them were really needed.

    In the end only one guard was slightly injured, and after moving the bodies out of the road, the caravan carried on.

    Azcheron didn''t seem to expect anything more from the trip from now on. He didn''t look particularly dejected though, as if his little trick had been enough to quench his thirst for action for the next month and half. That was fishy.

    * * *

    Azcheron

    And of course it was ! Azcheron didn''t simply wander around the forest, away from the caravan, just to bait and lure a pitiful dozen of bandits.

    When he saw the smoke with his magic enhanced sight, he wasn''t even sure yet that it came from a bandit camp. It was likely, of course, but he''d have to check before jumping in and attacking everyone. So he asked Erin to cover for him while he would see who were the mysterious hobos having their nice campfire in this chilling beginning of winter.

    If it turned out to be another batch of unclean murderers, he''d have the perfect opportunity to learn more about that curious artefact he picked up when he met Erin. The camp seemed to be located a bit more than an hour away from the caravan, by walking, but since he could use Manasprint, he wasn''t worried about being left behind, so he leisurely took his time. And the caravan was long enough that they couldn''t possibly go so fast that he''d be unable to return to it. He was fairly confident he could even come back without magic, by running like regular people.

    The idea, of course, was displeasing ! The Saint had the privilege of being magically potent. He would be insulting himself by purposely acting like the everyday traveller when he could cross entire forests in mere half-hours.

    Well, acting like the everyday traveller was basically what Azcheron did the past month. But those were exceptional circumstances. This month spent as a vulgar adventurer had a highly educational value. There was not, however, anything educational in having to run after your caravan because you were left behind like a useless oaf.

    So, Azcheron wasn''t worried. If he didn''t quill his boredom now, he''d end up attacking the caravan himself anyway. Two weeks in and he was already bored ! And those crappy bandits. How mediocre can they get ? Missing on such an opportunity. Yes, of course, the brigands would all die because Azcheron and Erin were here to defend the caravan, but the lawless couldn''t possibly know that. Then what were they doing !

    The Saint obtained his answer when he finally found the encampment. The damn slobs were sleeping. That''s why they weren''t busy ambushing whoever crossed the forest. All the better for Azcheron, in the end. It would allow him to experiment a bit.

    He took a moment to observe their camp, hiding behind the trees and bushes, several tens of meters away. There was about twenty tents, and at least twice that number of bandits outside. Probably another twenty or forty in the tents, depending on how many were sleeping inside. These were fairly impressive numbers. In fact, if they attacked the caravan, there would clearly be casualties on Azcheron''s side, even with his magic. He was good at killing, not so at protecting people. It was fortunate that these guys were unsuspecting boors, Azcheron thought. No matter. Such numbers wouldn''t pose any issue to him if he could fight them away from the caravan.

    Most of the thugs out there were probably really sleeping. They looked like it, at least, since they were laying down and snoring. A few were keeping a watch of some sort, but seemed more interested in roasting some meat in one of the fires, or drinking what little they could find from the almost empty jugs of beer from the previous night.

    Is that the reason ? Is the whole camp having a hangover or something ?

    The idea amused Azcheron. Since he was feeling playful, he''d try the artefact. He took it from his pocket, and stared at it. The thing was, in the end, perfectly disgusting. It looked like it was a stone carved and sculpted into a grape-looking ear.

    Why ? This thing makes no sense.

    It was half-ear, half-fruit. Maybe the illusion it produced had something to do with sound ? Maybe the creator of the thing was an ignoble person ? Azcheron would soon find out. As soon as he would activate the artefact. Anytime now. It should be really soon.

    How the heck am I supposed to use this ?

    He tried planting it in the ground or placing it against a tree ¨C it was a fruit, right ? He tried talking to it, giving it orders ¨C it was an ear, right ? But there wasn''t any guarantee that it would even indicate that it was working. How unpractical. Yet it was definitely a magical item, mana could be felt inside. When he searched the bodies for it, he didn''t even need to see its unfathomable shape in order to know that the thing was an artefact ¨C he just felt it. Azcheron tried to remember what he read about artefacts in books. Hopefully this one was like any other, despite his atrocious appearance.

    The agreed convention was that such items would activate when you insufflated mana in it. It seemed wrong to him since the bandits from before apparently managed to use it, and bandits weren''t exactly known for their magical ability, lest their knowledge about artefacts. Perhaps they had a smart one among them. Too bad he was dead now ! Azcheron tried pouring mana into the thing anyway, as he had nothing to lose.

    And, of course, it started to glow. At the same time, a large chunk of the forest''s mana around him disappeared. Azcheron observed the thing. The light looked like it came from the auditory canal.

    How disgusting. Well, at least it should work, now. What does it do, then ? Am I invisible or something ? Does it suppress any sound I make ?

    Having no way to know without relying on the bandits for ''help'', he threw a stone on a bandit to see what would happen. Of course, he was ready to burn the whole camp with a fire pillar if the ear-thing wasn''t hiding him or having any other useful effect.

    The ruffian groaned and turned around, looking in Azcheron''s direction. He squinted his eyes, frowned, squinted again. He was now squinting his eyes as if he was trying to make them pop out from the other side of his skull. Then he groaned once again and turned back to whatever empty jug he was previously blankly staring into.

    Is he dumb ? He just had a rock thrown at him and he doesn''t care ? I''d behead the culprit if it were me.

    Aside from the thug''s mind''s dubious inner-workings, it was curious. Azcheron was standing in plain view, yet the bandit did not seem to notice him. Or, more likely, he noticed something, probably the reason why he was making such a grimace, but could not see. Was there a veil hiding him, or another magical phenomenon occurring, stoping people from seeing the things properly, or deforming their vision ? Maybe their eyes worked, but they couldn''t understand what they were seeing. He wondered what the brigand saw, or rather, failed to see.

    Should I wake up the others and ask them to participate ?

    Trying to obtain more results, he threw a volley of lightning bolts at random in the camp. Immediately, the bandits already awake geared up, woke their sleepy friends, and started to hunt for whatever had just fried a handful of their kin.

    Every time one of them glanced toward Azcheron''s location, he stopped as if to second-guess what he saw or thought he saw. Yet every single one of them ended up looking away and searching in other places.

    Alright then. Let''s try giving out my position in a more obvious way.

    Gathering mana around him, Azcheron focused his mind on the humidity present in the forest. From the air, the dew, the soil, he took a bit of the water contained in the vicinity, regrouped it in front of him in thin poles, and froze every single droplet. A dozen of ice lances were now floating in front of him.

    Azcheron threw the lances one by one, as to make clear where them came from. The bandits seemed to have noticed that, at least. They had the fearful look of someone who just realized that a spell was about to impale them. The ice pierced and sliced through the ruffians like they were mere butter. Each time a lance would attain the opposite side of the camp, it was broken down into water again, and quickly started to gather toward Azcheron for another throw. It was a complex and not particularly practical way of committing manslaughter, compared to many other uses of magic Azcheron had access to, but here he was just playing with his enemies and purposely giving out his position.

    The brigands unmistakeably knew where the lances came from, yet as they rushed toward that location, they somehow deviated from their course. It was not because they tried to avoid the lances, as there weren''t that many, so there was no need to make grand detours to dodge the projectiles. It felt more like they were losing their balance, and somehow strode to the sides as if they were pulled away from Azcheron. They ended up falling on the ground, vainly struggling to stand up. The closest ones started to puke and roll on the ground like madmen. Azcheron was curious but couldn''t afford to be surrounded even with this enigmatic illusion ¨C he didn''t know if and when the thing could suddenly stop working ¨C, so he finished off the brigands that wandered to the sides, or passed behind him, during their bizarre run.

    Azcheron already had an idea about the artefact''s effects. He had seen that kind of behaviour on the ship, when he came to the continent. Anton had told him that it was called seasickness. It had something to do with the sense of balance, but neither the Saint nor the old scholar knew much about it. He''d have to talk to Anton about that, and look for more information when he''d visit the Academy.

    So the sense of balance is what''s impacted by the artefact ? What about the sort of illusion that makes me somehow invisible, then ? Perhaps it has something to do with the partially fruit-looking appearance of the thing.

    No, more importantly, why is the thing ear-shaped ? This creepy and enigmatic design couldn''t be the result of chance, nor could it be that its creator just settled for a random shape. No one with an ounce of moral or artistic sense would allow such a thing to exist for no reason.

    And it still didn''t explain the visual illusion. Maybe it was something stupid like a sort of camouflage that worked only in forests... And there was still the question of how it worked for a group. Could you somehow choose who would or wouldn''t be affected by the illusion ? Would it be possible to protect a caravan with it for instance ? Or would the horses start to run around and vomit, too ? There was no definite way to know that for now, it was too unsafe. He''d have to try using the thing in other places.

    For now, he had cleaning to do. About half of the bandits were still alive, running aimlessly around him, and falling. He promptly regrouped his lances, broke each one into smaller arrow-looking fragments, and propelled said fragments in the heads of the remaining enemies. In a deafening and reverberating accumulation of squashy crushing noises, their skulls simultaneously exploded, with the sudden pressure of having a hard-as-steel ice arrow piercing through. The lifeless bodies all fell almost at the same time, producing an similarly echoing thud.

    There was a dozen of survivors, a bit further away from the bloody mess. Feeling pity and guilt for Erin who wouldn''t get to see any action at this rate, Azcheron fuelled mana once again into the ear-thing, and the glowing stopped. The forest''s mana started to slowly grow back around him. The last bunch of thugs spotted him, and probably quickly understanding that he was the unscrupulous culprit who wiped out their camp, ran toward him.

    They didn''t seem to think clearly about the situation and the fact that Azcheron was undeniably a mage who slaughtered on a whim some sixty or seventy of their comrades. No matter, he did not plan to kill these ones. Promptly running back toward the caravan, Azcheron undertook to led them there. The caravan''s guards had to earn their pay, after all.

    Surely Erin will be pleased with this gift !

 11 - Sightseeing VI

    ¡°The north of the continent is a fairly uncomfortable place, at first glance. Not only the winters are of a particularly evil nature here, but its people also seem to come from hell itself. The rumours about demons inhabiting the towns have more truth in them than I''d like to admit, but behind their grotesque appearance, they are as mundane as the regular Imperial citizen. The novice eye will notice that all the northern people look absurdly fat, while in reality they are merely covered in a lot of very thick layers of fur. Take into account the horns, tails, slit pupils and whatnot, and you end up with a city of obese-looking demons. Then they wave at you with a warm smile. Truly frightening. No wonder tourism is bad around these parts.

    -Anonymous traveller¡±

    * * *

    Jormas

    Jormas kept rolling over in his tent, trying to sleep. He couldn''t, for all his attempts were lulled by the peaceful noise of a hundred people snoring, emulating the sound of an army of lumberjacks trying to take down a forest as fast as they could.

    Jormas couldn''t sleep in such circumstances, so he exited the tent and went to sit by one of the fires. Soon, he would not be able to do that, because each day was getting colder. For now, covered in thick fur, the night still felt chilling, but not to the point of threatening to make his toes fall.

    As he sat close to the campfire, he noticed the kid Azcheron and that girl Erin, next to another fire not far from here. He got up, walked toward the two, and called out to them in a low voice.

    ¡°Are you two on watch duty tonight ?¡±

    Azcheron looked at him and replied in a snarky voice. ¡°Good evening, Jormas. Can''t sleep ? I wonder the reason. Why don''t you join us ?¡±

    The kid handed over a small iron mug to him. Jormas sniffed it, the darkness making it impossible to see its content. Turned out it was boiled wine, so the merchant took a gulp after thanking Azcheron with a nod.

    ¡°Drinking on the job ? You brats are looking to get fired or something ?¡± he jokingly scolded, though he understood, with the cold and whatnot.

    ¡°Isn''t it fine ? There''s no way we''d doze off, thanks to the permanent alarm we have here.¡± He gestured to show the mass of snoring bodies.

    ¡°Heh. You and you smart tongue.¡±

    Jormas quite liked the boy. He had a witty mouth and it allowed for them to have the occasional interesting chaff. The other guards were taking themselves too seriously, or were too nervous, so there was rarely the possibility to joke with them.

    He glanced at the red haired girl. As always, she had a fierce air about her, and it seemed the injuries she was recovering from when they began the journey were not a hindrance anymore. It made him feel safer. Among all the guards he had on his payroll, she might have been, by far, the most skilled and the most reliable. And she always looked more serious and wary than Azcheron when they were patrolling.

    Then again, Jormas surmised that the brat''s negligent behaviour was an act, or that he had the necessary strength and confidence to indulge in nonchalance. The whole thing with the small group of bandits attacking was too suspicious and, hell, Azcheron himself was the most suspicious brat he ever met. That, and the fact that he was a mage, made Jormas question the game the brat seemed to be playing.

    Either way, he wasn''t too worried for what would come next. They had already passed the forest that would have been the most dangerous part of the trip, banditry-wise, and it didn''t prove to be too much trouble. The winter would not be that complacent, but they''d manage.

    ¡°What are you two going to the capital for, anyway ?¡± he genuinely asked. He wasn''t inquiring because there was nothing there waiting for them, on the contrary. It was the centre of the Empire, so all sort of people gathered there for all sort of reasons.

    ¡°There are many things to do here, that''s why !¡± Azcheron said, as if purposely being as vague as he could.

    Damn brat. How uncommitted can your replies get ?

    ¡°So many things to do,¡± he continued on with an eerie smile, answering Jormas'' thought.

    Now you''re giving me the creeps. I get it, I won''t pry.

    He noticed the bizarre look on Erin''s face. She was making an expression hard to describe, as if she was both amused and uneasy hearing what Azcheron said.

    ¡°Well, no matter. Surely there''s a lot young folks like you would get to see and do in such a place. Not my business,¡± he finally said, sipping from the mug.

    ¡°What about you, Jormas ? Will you stay the entire winter there ?¡± Jormas let out a groan to say yes, and Azcheron carried on. ¡°Hmm... Were will you go next ? Back to Quarras I imagine.¡±

    ¡°Don''t know yet. We''ll see how''s the trade by the end of the season. Could be that it''d prove more lucrative to go north or west, y''see.¡±

    Jormas lifted his gaze from the mug, just in time to catch a glimmer of something on Azcheron''s features.

    He could only wonder if he had just dragged on himself some of the kid''s unwanted and spooky attention, with this nonchalant and unsuspecting answer.

    Whatever. The wine and the exhaustion would soon push all his worries to the back of his mind.

    * * *

    Anton

    Around the same time in the capital, Anton Vardt was sitting in his study, looking over some administrative academy-related documents. Although he wore an expression of phenomenal annoyance, he read through the papers thoroughly.

    He always preferred to work in his home, instead of his office at the Academy. The reason was simple : it was located not far from the training grounds, and his windows gave view on the large courtyard where people usually trained and learned new magic.

    That was the issue. It was noisy. And the noise of someone failing to cast a fireball properly and almost burning himself to death was vastly hindering any work Anton could hope to get done. Well, he''d be lucky if it was only that. When the students blasted themselves with a poorly aimed magic missile, it was okay. However, when the students blasted Anton''s office with a poorly aimed magic missile, it was not okay.

    He had to go out and break some fingers, on numerous occasions. That was the only way they''d learn. That they shouldn''t point these damn fingers toward his office. Once broken, they''d found it pretty hard to do so anyway.

    Then another problem appeared in the recent years. Someone had the same idea as Anton. A new professor with the deeply rooted belief that discipline and teachings could not be conveyed in a better way than through the holy path of face-smacking and bone-breaking. This new professor, Karlos, was a spellblade of renown, but his methods were, yes, rather peculiar.

    Quickly enough Anton came to miss the screams of students casting their own spells on themselves. The new sounds were very much louder, and occurred far too often. How many times per week was Karlos ''training'' his students !? It looked like it happened almost everyday, and at impossible hours. It became unbearable at some point, and Anton decided to spend most of his time away from the sounds of wooden swords breaking bones and the screams of the victims.

    So, here he was, in his four-stories house, working in his study. This way, he could also avoid meeting Hector Talir at random in the Academy''s corridors. The headmaster was an old bastard with a better sense for business than for managing a magic school. There was a strange rivalry between them, and he suspected that Talir was envious and jealous of his talents as a mage, and even more frustrated that Anton took his retirement from the army. Good thing Anton had become one the members presiding the council, or else his life would have been some sort of irritating hell. Talir probably would have found a way to make him work everyday in his Academy''s office. That was a sentence worth resigning.

    Stolen story; please report.

    His return trip had been almost without problem. He had been back for a few weeks and as soon as he arrived he had to deal with paperwork. His extended leave of absence had put him in an uncomfortable position. The new term had already started several weeks ago and between his student''s resumes, the preparations for his classes and a few others things, he had not much time left for himself.

    As he pushed aside a stack of paper and brung another one in front of him, a knock came from the door.

    ¡°Come in.¡±

    A servant girl came and bowed her head. ¡°Professor, someone came and brought a letter to your name. He didn''t seem to know the identity of the expeditor. Shall I bring it to you ?¡±

    ¡°Yes, thank you Tania.¡±

    The girl left and came back shortly after to hand over the letter.

    Checking both sides for the author''s name, even though he had just been told there was none, he sighted and opened it.

    As he unfolded it and started reading, the maid could see the smile forming on the old mage''s face as he realized who the expeditor was. It must have been strange for her. Anton usually never smiled while reading a letter. Because he was never glad to receive one. Because it was almost always about administrative hassle, and most of his friends didn''t bother to write him letters, seeing as they too, were working in the capital.

    But not this time.

    ¡°Greetings,

    how was your journey ? I wonder, did you get to meet any bandits ? Well, I did. It seems that winter will strike sooner than we envisioned, so I''ll also be coming to see you earlier than planned. I''m currently writing this in a village close to Quarras, and from what I gathered I should be arriving in the middle of the twelfth month. I reckon you''ll have everything prepared for my arrival by then ? I intend to stay for the whole winter and make the most of it.

    Thereupon, until we meet again.

    Azcheron.¡±

    Anton slightly frowned after reading the letter for the second time. ¡°What does he mean by ''prepare for his arrival'' ? This brat.¡±

    ¡°¡­ Professor ? Is there a problem ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know, Tania. But you''ll be meeting a troublesome friend of mine soon, that I can tell you.¡±

    ¡°It''d be my pleasure, professor.¡±

    He stared at the maid. ¡°...I wonder about that. I''ll ask you to get one of the large rooms ready for when he comes. Ah, would you be so kind as to bring me my finest writing paper and my seal ? He''ll want to meet and get introduced to some important people, so I better take care of that quickly.¡±

    Tania nodded and went to search the shelves for what he asked.

    Anton relaxed in his seat, putting his elbow on the armrest and supporting his head with his palm.

    Then his expression suddenly brightened.

    ¡°Hehehe. This could work. He''ll hate me for it but he had it coming. He did say he wanted to spend time in the Academy after all...¡±

    As the maid put the paper and the seal down on the table with a quizzical face, Anton started to rummage through the mountainous-looking Academy-related piles of documents.

    * * *

    Erin

    A month passed. Azcheron and Erin''s caravan was closing on the capital. As they expected, the rest of the trip was devoid of encounters. Azcheron did scout their surroundings a few times, ''just in case'' or so he said, but it proved vain.

    While they weren''t bothered by any living enemy, their was another one that made its appearance.

    Winter came. And with it, the cold nights and the chilling wind. Many found it difficult to bear, although no one died from the cold. It wasn''t even the middle of winter yet. Thankfully they would arrive at their destination before that.

    Still, those who had brought coats and covers had never been so glad. People found ways to keep themselves relatively warm at night, even if those were only minor improvements in face of the freezing air.

    The worse off were the guards on watch duty. They took turns, of course, but even if it was for a couple hours, having to stay awake in those nights while eyeing at people buried under layers of fur and snuggled up against each other was hard on the mind.

    When Azcheron and Erin weren''t on duty, then went to sleep in one of the carriage. Most of the others slept next to the fires, while some, like Jormas or the more well-off travellers, had small tents of their own. They couldn''t light a fire in the carriage but they could lay the leather flaps down, and in that almost enclosed space they''d use Azcheron''s magic to heat up the air.

    Even then, it wasn''t warm enough to be comfortable, and doing more would be too taxing on Azcheron since he had to be awake to reheat the air. They took the habit of sleeping huddled together, where they got to know the soft warmth of someone else''s body in the harshness of the freezing and silent nights.

    Looking back, Erin would consider it was during this trip that both of them had come to trust the other a little more than before. Of course, she had already casted aside some, if not most of her wariness way before arriving to Quarras. He did save her life, after all. And Azcheron being Azcheron, he surely fancied himself a good judge of character or something of the sort. They both knew that some would deem these reasons flimsy at best.

    But here, cuddled together in the cold darkness, she could probably say they trusted each other with their life. They had no choice, really, seeing as they also were responsible for the entire caravan''s safety. You couldn''t work with someone you didn''t trust, in the end. Still, it was a curious feeling, as they only met less than two months ago.

    They didn''t think much of it at the time. It wasn''t love or anything that could blur their judgement. It had more to do with knowing each other''s skills and personality. The fact that they had a good affinity for banter also helped to form both friendship and complicity.

    Neither knew a lot about the other''s past yet, beyond what Erin had been told on the way to Quarras, and what Azcheron could deduce from Erin''s slips and behaviour. She knew he must have caught on some details, even though it should not have been enough to guess much about her past.

    One night, she made the first step toward that. They were nestled inside their carriage as usual, and the sight would have probably been amusing to the outsider''s eye. While she was taller than Azcheron by a good head, and looked much tougher than him, he was the one embracing her with his arms this time.

    She felt somehow down, thinking about the reasons she left the capital years ago. She started to speak in a quiet voice, all of the sudden, to Azcheron''s surprise.

    ¡°You''ve probably guessed that I come from a noble house, right ?¡±

    Azcheron simply nodded. She could not see him but she felt his chin moving against her hair.

    ¡°Sorry I didn''t give you my full name when I introduced myself. I wasn''t sure yet whether or not you were from here and I wanted to avoid dropping that name around someone who could recognize it.¡±

    ¡°I don''t mind.¡±

    ¡°How did you know ?¡±

    ¡°On the road to Quarras, you told me you didn''t know much about magic. But you understood quickly what I was talking about, and you gave away hints that you tried to learn at some point in your life. Even I know that studying magic isn''t something anyone can afford to. Most mages are nobility or at least had a wealthy upbringing.¡±

    ¡°That''s all ?¡±

    ¡°No. Then there was your sword skills. You''re young yet very strong. You must have had a good teacher, or you could afford to work and train hard, at least. And your armour, I''d say ? It''s worn out but it looks sturdy and well crafted. Not that I would really know about these things, I''m merely assuming. Also, your overall demeanour.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, there''s all that, I suppose.¡± She felt slightly annoyed as she realized she didn''t do a proper job at masking her identity, at least not as much as she hoped.

    ¡°Mmh. You were a mercenary, but you couldn''t hide the fact that you''re well-educated and knowledgable about many things unrelated to being a sell-sword. So with all that I made some deductions.¡±

    ¡°Hehe. I''d expect no less from you.¡±

    ¡°That being said, I couldn''t guess much beyond that. I thought you had ran away for some reason and that''s why you were hiding your name and origins.¡±

    ¡°It''s not far from the truth. I wasn''t exactly running away, but you could say that I was banished, somehow.¡±

    Azcheron one again nodded, meaning for her to continue.

    ¡°It''s nothing serious. We had this huge family dispute. They were acting like cunts because I trained to become a knight instead of wedding material, and then they felt humiliated and ashamed that I couldn''t use magic. So they sent me away to avoid bringing anymore shame to the family. They agreed to let me do my own thing as long as I wasn''t linked to them, hence me hiding my name. Better have an exiled daughter than a embarrassing failure who could neither be a mage nor a proper lady.¡±

    ¡°It must be an important family for them to cast away their members when they''re an inconvenience...¡±

    ¡°House Verald is... well-known in the Empire, yes. Ah, I guess I''m late but that makes me Erin Verald, by the way. And a knight, as you indeed guessed. Nice to meet you ?¡±

    They both chuckled and then kept silent for a while. Azcheron finally spoke in a warm tone.

    ¡°You had it rough, eh ?¡±

    ¡°I''m alright now. It''s just that I don''t exactly want them to know I''m back.¡±

    ¡°Would you get into trouble if they learned about your return ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know. But they''ll avoid making a commotion about it, obviously. Since I''m supposed to be the ''shameful secret'' of the family.¡±

    ¡°Well, don''t worry about it. Knight Erin of house Verald, know that I, Saint Azcheron of the Rahal Clan, will make commotions soon enough, so no one will have the time to harass you. It will be fine.¡±

    She smirked. She didn''t doubt a single word of it.

 12 - Sightseeing VII

    ¡°The Imperial Capital Aestril is an everlasting miracle of magic and technology. Its citizens are eternally grateful toward the Second Emperor, for since his reign the city has never known the scorching heats of summer and the blizzards of winter. Seasons are bending to the will of the Imperial Capital Aestril. In eternal reconnaissance to the Second Emperor, the Academy was founded in the southern district. Here, generations of devoted mages follow the footsteps of history''s strongest mage, the Second Emperor himself. In the western district, the esteemed traveller can witness the greatness of the Imperial Palace, eternal in its glory and its heigh that is rumoured to reach the skies. We have yet to be thankful enough to the Second Emperor for this majestic gift that shines and represents the Empire''s might across to continent.

    -Official travelling guide, chapter XVI¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°What the hell is this ?¡± Azcheron asked in an offended voice.

    ¡°I told you already. It''s from the official travelling guide,¡± Erin answered in an amused tone.

    ¡°Let me guess, recommended by the Empire ?¡±

    ¡°You bet.¡±

    ¡°Urgh. Are you sure about this ? I''ve never heard anyone, ever, calling the capital something else than ''the capital'', let alone ''Aestril''. I think you got scammed or something ?¡±

    Azcheron and Erin arrived in the capital an hour ago and after saying farewell to Jormas and the others, they decided to take a walk so that Erin could show around a few things to Azcheron. Unfortunately for him, Erin insisted on reading out excerpts from the official travelling guide, and seemed to be delighted by his reactions.

    ¡°I''m not surprised. I''ve never heard anyone use the real name of the city either. I don''t know why. I don''t even think anyone knows why.¡±

    ¡°And the people from this country have a serious issue with words like ''eternal'', ''eternally'' and ''everlasting''. Also, what''s the deal with this Second Emperor ?¡±

    ¡°Ha, I guess you wouldn''t understand. The history books around here aren''t exactly foreign to nepotism and propaganda. Who knows whatever junk they made us learn ?¡±

    ¡°Well, at least they didn''t lie about that weather thing. It''s still cold, but clearly not as much as it is outside. I admit I''m impressed. Is the whole place built on a mana well or something ?¡±

    ¡°I think so. I don''t see how they could make whatever artefact they''re using work properly, if that wasn''t the case.¡±

    They were currently in the eastern district''s main boulevard. Facing the centre of the city, they could see, covered in darkness by the setting sun, the east face of the immense palace. From its elevated position ¨C the already huge and towering palace was built on a plateau ¨C it casted a large shadow over the capital.

    The high and dark building was standing out against the blood-red sky. The outline of the moon circling the top of the palace gave to the whole scene an feeling of grandeur.

    Some faint dots of light could be already seen in the distance, but there was no way to know whether they were stars or the visible manifestation of the thick mana around the city.

    The capital was built large, but also high. It was nothing like the villages he saw, or even cities like Longhills or Quarras. Each and every house had at least three or four floors, sometimes much more, and the important buildings like government offices and guilds were of an even more imposing height.

    From time to time despite the tall blocks of houses overhanging the streets, Azcheron could catch glimpses, in the south, of the black and pointy-roofed towers belonging to the Academy.

    Apparently, to honour his megalomania, the Second Emperor''s admirers decided to give the magic school''s grounds the size, heigh and appearance of a large and tall castle. It was a castle, in the end. Yet for the same obscure reasons as to why everyone always called the capital ''the capital'', no-one ever called the Academy a ''castle''.

    Azcheron was quite curious to discover what other ''cultural oddities'' could lay among the many unspoken laws and customs of the Empire.

    Seeing as they hadn''t much time left before nightfall, they set off for the southern district to meet Anton.

    * * *

    Azcheron had forgotten to ask Anton where he lived, and naturally Erin would not be of any help.

    He only knew it was close to the Academy (and that''s were he asked his letter to be delivered, he just assumed people there knew him and would hand him the letter ¨C of course, it was also based on the hope that the letter was indeed delivered, or that nothing had happened to Anton) so while wandering in its neighbourhood, he questioned everyone they''d cross.

    Most of the time the endeavour was without result, but on some occasions he''d hear something unexpected.

    It went along the lines of ¡°Anton Vardt ? Ah, Anton the bootless ! Sorry, I don''t know where he lives.¡± or ¡°Professor Vardt, yes. I can''t help you find him, though if you do I hope you brought spare boots !¡±.

    Those answers came from young people who looked like students, and were followed by a snicker of some sort.

    Since they didn''t find anything pertaining Anton apart from his strangely famed boot problem ¨C of which Azcheron obviously made a note in his mind ¨C they decided to go to the Academy and ask some more responsible looking individuals.

    The two wanderers finally got hold of an address after politely talking to some civilized old moustached professor in front of the Academy, as the evening courses had just finished and many people were quietly going home with tired expressions.

    Or rather, they were lucky enough to grab the old man among the insane flow of people exiting through the massive doors, and since the victim was perfectly displeased to be delayed in such fashion, he quickly gave his abductors their long sought answer to shoo them away.

    They were relieved, seeing as it was already late and that neither could afford to ask someone else for lodging for the night. They didn''t want to sleep in an inn after their long journey, they wanted real comfort. Anton was Azcheron''s only acquaintance in the capital and Erin categorically refused to go to her family''s manor.

    Azcheron and Erin had discussed that beforehand. She wasn''t keen on relying on Anton, not that she didn''t trust him ¨C she insisted that even if she had never met him, knowing that Azcheron trusted him highly was enough for her ¨C but she already felt indebted to Azcheron and didn''t want to impose on one of his friend.

    Still, he managed to convince her. It was her job to protect him from the trouble he''ll inevitably jump into, he said. She seemed to like the pretext.

    Azcheron was now rather annoyed and grumpy that the evening turned out to be mostly a waste of time. He should have decided to ask an old guy at the Academy much earlier. He knew Anton to be a man who''d stay awake and work until late in the night, so he didn''t stop himself from banging loudly on the door when they finally arrived, to vent his frustration.

    The maid who came to answer the ''knocking'' wore a confused and slightly apprehensive expression, that turned into a clearly afraid and panicking one when she was met with the two visitors : a strange angry-looking young man and a frightening young woman with a scarred face and a huge sword.

    It took several minutes for Anton to convince his maid Tania that Azcheron and Erin weren''t here to extort or assassinate him.

    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    * * *

    Anton

    They went and sat in the lounge. Since no one had eaten yet, Tania brought them leftovers from lunch.

    ¡°So, what have you been up to, dear bootless friend ?¡±

    Anton almost choked on his food. ¡°You ! Why do YOU know about that !!?¡±

    ¡°Hahaha ! We only heard of your new title while we searched for your house. We don''t know the story behind it ¨C surely it is a story worthy of poems and epics ?¡± He seemed delighted by Anton''s reaction.

    The old professor felt like kicking the Saint out of his house.

    ¡°Tch. Yes, yes, I''ll tell you. But before that... you say ''we''...¡± He turned his head to the red haired girl. ¡°May I ask who your companion is ?¡±

    They hadn''t introduced each other yet since they had to deal with Tania''s half-justified panic attack. Anton had not expected Azcheron to bring a companion. He was who he was, and there weren''t many people who had the mental fortitude to tolerate his personality. So, naturally, he was very curious to ascertain the identity of this tough-looking young woman.

    Erin glanced at Azcheron, who nodded. ¡°Erin... Verald. Pleased to meet you, Professor Vardt. Azcheron spoke highly of you.¡±

    Anton frowned slightly.

    Meeting nobles already ? And, this... could either end up nicely or messily.

    ¡°My, my. It is my pleasure, young lady.¡± He then addressed Azcheron. ¡°You work fast. I was planning to get you introduced to some people, but I see my help may be unnecessary after all ?¡±

    ¡°It is nothing of the sort, Anton. We met during a bandit-bashing event, about two months ago. I''ll tell you later. And... well. I need a favour.¡±

    ¡°Go on.¡± Anton could guess what the said favour was.

    ¡°She has her own circumstances, and shall be acting as my guard during my stay, so can I ask you to house her for the time being ?

    ¡°Yes... I imagined that much. I don''t mind. I expected you to drag me into something as soon as you arrived.¡±

    Anton was grinning, partly because he was amused, partly because he was being handed a bargaining chip against Azcheron. You simply never were in a position to bargain with the Rahal Saint. Koven Sarlas tried. It didn''t end well.

    Yet here he was, asking a favour. Naturally Anton had no reason to refuse, seeing as this would further his own scheme.

    ¡°I can say by the look on you face that you have something planned for me in exchange.¡±

    ¡°Hehe. Remember how you said you wanted to spend some time at the Academy ? I may have a suggestion that would satisfy both of us...¡±

    ¡°I don''t see how this is detrimental to me... Yet. And I know that it is. You have that smile. You know, my smile. It''s too late to hide that.¡±

    Eh, it looks like I caught a bad habit because of you. Is that a disease or something ? A curse where you become obnoxious and start to plot against your friends ? He joked to himself.

    ¡°I won''t beat around the bush then. I registered you to attend the Academy.¡±

    Anton watched with glee as a horrified expression formed on Azcheron''s face. He started to rant in that mana infused voice, but it was much faster ¨C much angrier ¨C than usual.

    ¡°ANTON, ARE YOU MOCKING ME ?! Is this what you''ve been planning ? I refuse to enrol as a student ! It would be unbecoming of me ! I am the Rahal Saint, you DO know that. And I already know what will happen if I do. Some conceited noble brat will take offence at the sudden arrival of an unknown prodigy of uncertain stature, and try to bully me or plan some convoluted revenge for the affront that is my existence. He will end up challenging me to a duel and I will try to warn him not to go down this route, because it happens way too much in those crappy books you gave me, but he won''t back down because there will be onlookers and I will win, most likely I''ll kill him to prove everyone my point, and this will cause an uproar. Now, I do not dislike uproars, I actually am planning to commit quite a few of them. I do not however like to be on the receiving end of such events. They will think about doing something stupid like expelling me or trying to imprison or execute me, which I in turn will rightfully take offence at, and I will end up flattening half the city. Which I don''t want to do because I am planning to make use of the Academy''s library in peace.¡±

    Anton could see that Erin was suppressing her laughter. He could guess that she had taken a liking to Azcheron''s antics and shenanigans ¨C how else could you possibly not find him unbearable ? It was the same for him and any one who befriended Azcheron. Half of the time they''d be involved in his schemes, and the other half they''d be the target. You couldn''t stay by his side if you weren''t able to deal with that.

    But now he was being subjected to Anton''s plot. It was a sight anyone who knew him would enjoy.

    ¡°Are you done ?¡± he asked after a moment, chuckling.

    ¡°YES !¡±

    ¡°Calm down. You''re scaring Tania. But I see your point. However I never said you were to attend as a regular student. And as a normal schoolboy, you wouldn''t have access to the entirety of the library. There are some very ancient or sensible documents after all. The way I was thinking about, however, would grant you clearance for the whole inventory...¡±

    ¡°This is still fishy.¡±

    ¡°No matter what I say you won''t trust me now so I don''t care.¡±

    ¡°My distrust is justified ! But I''ll let that affront slide if that''s the price to pay for my favour. Plus, I too will be living here for some time. I admit that I require much from you. By the way, you said earlier that you took some initiative regarding my being introduced to the world. How exactly is it going ?¡±

    ¡°You''ve been invited to a large reception. It''ll take place by the end of winter, I''ll tell you when I know more. You managed to catch the interest of some important houses, you see. Of course, this is all thanks to me and my advertising talent.¡±

    Azcheron crossed his arms and closed his eyes. ¡°I see. Well done, Anton.¡± He was behaving like a lord congratulating his butler.

    ¡°What''s with you ''planning uproars'' as you say, and asking me to ''prepare'' for your arrival, anyway ? I''m the one who rightfully has a bad feeling about the whole thing, you know ?¡±

    Azcheron smiled at Anton''s concerns.

    ¡°Why, it''s simple !¡± His grin widened. ¡°The might of the Rahal Clan needs to be known through the world. Also, my own might shall be acknowledged. I want to have a go at this glory thing.¡±

    ¡°What kind of acknowledgement are we talking about ? I feel doom impending.¡±

    ¡°People will learn about me.¡± He leaned closer to Anton. ¡°I''ll give them reasons to. With history books, even though they don''t seem trustworthy around these parts, they''ll remember me. Through gossip and whispers in the palace''s corridors, even though they will be filled with hatred and anger, they''ll envy me.¡±

    He then laid back in the armchair.

    ¡°From children and old men, rumours about me will go around. From knights and mages, my achievements will spread. And from bards and poets, my legend will start.¡±

    * * *

    Tania

    Tania awoke at dawn, the winter sun casting a dim light on her short dark brown hair. She jumped out off the warm bed, unto the cold floor, and before long she was ready for the day.

    Anton and his guests had stayed up until late, debating many things with vigour and passion. That is, at least, what she assumed while hearing the yells and shouts and proclamations. Passionate, yes. Anton''s friends must have been very passionate indeed.

    She could swear that through the walls, she had heard the word ''boot'' numerous times, followed by both laughter and screams of agony.

    Her employer had been kind enough to give her the evening off, to do as she saw fit, seeing as they had a lot of catching up to do. She took his offer gladly and went to sleep early to be in shape for the following day.

    So, here she was, sole inhabitant of the four-stories house awake at this hour. She went to the kitchen to make today''s breakfast. Passing by the half-closed door leading to the lounge, she caught a glimpse of the coffee table, covered in glasses and empty bottles.

    Tania smiled to herself. It wasn''t often that Anton indulged in drinks and leisure. The evening seemed to have been a eventful one. As she was about to enter the room to clear the table, she noticed the professor sleeping on the large couch. He was in a seemingly uncomfortable position, and if it weren''t for the alcohol, she thought, it''d be a wonder how he managed to fall asleep like that.

    She covered him with a fur cover and left quietly the room. Cleaning could wait.

    Thinking about Anton sleeping made her realize that she had not prepared a room for their second guest. The young man, Azcheron, if her memory served her well, had a room already done and ready for him, but not the woman, lady Verald ¨C Tania had been told that her circumstances were particular. Hopefully she made herself at home and went to sleep in whatever chambers she deemed agreeable ! It wouldn''t do to displease a Verald, no.

    As she entered the kitchen, lost in thoughts, she couldn''t help letting out a small yelp. Azcheron was sitting at the table, reading a book.

    Already up ? No, perhaps he didn''t sleep at all ?

    He lifted his head up as he heard Tania.

    ¡°Oh, it''s you. You surprised me. Good morning.¡±

    YOU surprised me !

    ¡°Good morning, forgive me. I didn''t expect to find someone here, especially at this hour. Did you not sleep ? Perhaps the room wasn''t to your liking ?¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes. I did sleep, do not worry. But at some point I found myself unable to rest any longer, so I wandered around the house and found this book.¡± He showed her the cover. It was a cooking book of some sort. ¡°Truly marvellous. I had never heard of dishes such as ''dragoncake'' until now. Surely it is served to kings and heroes and the likes.¡±

    ¡°Err... It is a popular dessert among small children. It has nothing to do with dragons aside from its name and shape.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, yes, it does look mesmerizing,¡± he replied, half ignoring what she just told him, his eyes fixed on the handmade illustration.

    ¡°If I may ask, Azcheron ?¡± She waited for him to nod. ¡°Did the lady Verald find a room to her taste ?¡±

    ¡°Yes, she did. Part of the reason why I had to halt my slumber. I''d like to ask you for a room with a larger bed next time, if it''s not too much trouble ?¡±

    Tania nodded and didn''t pry, as she understood ¨C or at least she believed she did ¨C what he meant.

    Whether or not Azcheron felt she somehow misinterpreted something, he did not bother to correct her.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, having found an easy opportunity to make young maidens scream in joy and excitement, depicted the blonde mage and the red haired knight indulging into savoury relationship developments during that night.

    History tells of a much less coloured truth : Azcheron had to relinquish his rights to a full night of rest, for Erin proved herself mighty and unbending in her drunk, agitated and disturbed sleep.

    But the story of Azcheron''s abruptly halved rest shall be spoken another time ¨C or not spoken at all, who cares about something like that ! ¨C for the story of his appearance at the Academy, marking his debuts in the public life, is now about to be told.

 13 - Imperial Capital

    ¡°The Academy, yes, yes, such a great place. Mmh ? Of course I''m kidding, you oaf. Have you ever been there ? No, it''s obvious, or else you''d know. I''m not sure whether it''s the students or the professors that are the worst. I''m serious. The students are dim-witted, arrogant, and most of the time, of a spectacular and borderline suicidal mediocrity. Fine, but doesn''t that embody what it means to be a student ? The professors, on the other hand, are the devil''s lackeys. They''re either evil bastards, sneaky plotters, or uncaring slobs. Some will break your bones and call it pedagogy. Some will let you dabble in forbidden rituals until you figure out by yourself that most are very dangerous and very much asking for your soul as a sort of compensation. And the teachers usually don''t care about the utter chaos and doom you cause around you. When they do, it''s to complain about how dangerous and noisy the students are. Then they go home because, no, they can''t be bothered with solving the issue they created. I have no idea why the collective imaginary depicts magicians as smart and intellectual people.

    -anonymous professor¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    I''ve been tricked ! Curse you, Anton ! This is going to bring me far more trouble than just being a run-of-the-mill student.

    Azcheron was standing in a lecture hall, facing about a hundred noisy students. People were whispering. Who was he, they asked. How should I know, some answered. Do I look like I care, others complained. Isn''t he kinda hot, some high pitched voices wondered. I bet he wouldn''t stand five seconds against me in a duel, some low pitched voices replied.

    Azcheron could hear everything with sound magic. He really really regretted being here at the moment. No, he wasn''t about to introduce himself, neither was he making a presentation. As Anton promised two days ago, he wasn''t attending class as a student. These people would see him almost everyday from now on, but most would never even bother to learn his name. His position was much more anonymous, yet much more visible.

    ¡°Alright then, silence, everyone. We''ll start the lesson.¡±

    Anton spoke, not far from him, addressing the class. His words were effective and the students obeyed immediately, as if these boot rumours didn''t exist anymore when he was in a classroom.

    That''s Anton for you. He was not my teacher for nothing. Still, this old bastard...

    Azcheron was wearing a sort of mage gown. The students wore a dark blue one, while his and Anton''s had a deep black colour. Yes, they were wearing the same gown, because Anton had coerced Azcheron into becoming his assistant. His official title, ''assistant-professor'', would quickly be replaced by an informal one among many students : ''who''s this damn guy not even older than me acting like a teacher ?''.

    It was part of the reason why Azcheron felt that this would prove to be far more annoying than being a student. That, and the job itself looked very demanding.

    Professor Anton Vardt taught two subjects at the Academy, both were advanced classes destined to the older students. One was about military magical engineering and the other, raw mana manipulation.

    Azcheron easily understood why he was needed for the latter. He knew he would actually be more helpful than Anton on this subject and perhaps he could even come to enjoy teaching. At least he hoped. As long as the students weren''t incredibly incompetent or insufferable.

    But the engineering class had nothing to do with the fields Azcheron excelled in. It was a lesson where people learned how to conceive, design and build things like siege weapons and magical artillery, and so on. He knew that Anton had a long list of military achievements under his belt, and the knowledge that came with it, but Azcheron himself knew practically nothing about this application of magic.

    Fighting and killing with magic, that he indeed knew, but how to use or build ¨C and face ¨C monstrosities meant for warfare and siege battles was something entirely new.

    It turned out that he was being used, once again, for his mastery of mana. There were insanely large and heavy components to move and place with precision, and he was the perfect workforce. Well, he was the only one able to do that kind of work. Everyone else would take too long or do an amateurish job if they tried to go faster.

    It was an exhausting work that required a lot of concentration from Azcheron, but a week later he wasn''t complaining anymore. Even if he wasn''t passionate or even good at these things, it was important to know about it. He realized after the first day how useful this knowledge would become if he were to, let''s say, attack a city or defend against an army in the distant future.

    And, knowing himself better than anyone else, he suspected he''d probably try something like that at some point.

    Azcheron couldn''t really figure whether Anton had planned for this, or if he really forced him to participate in this class just to annoy him.

    Certainly both. He probably didn''t envisaged that I''d take part in wars, at least not before I told him about my plans of fame and glory, but he may have thought that it would interest me somehow. And he definitely knows how hard and tiring it is to use wind and gravity magic on these absurdly heavy gears.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Still, the other half of the problem remained. He was gathering too much attention, and not the kind he wanted.

    He''d have to do something about it, soon.

    * * *

    Two weeks passed since Azcheron''s arrival to the capital, and a bit less since he started ''teaching'' at Anton''s side.

    In this late afternoon, he was yet again on the Academy''s grounds, but this time not in his capacity of assistant-professor. He was going to attend an open seminary, the likes of which occurred several times every week.

    Anyone could attend, and the subject of the lecture varied according to the field of the academician giving it.

    Anyone could attend, but not everyone did. Mainly because the lectures were not always accessible to beginners, as both introductory and advanced courses could take place.

    There was a second reason that no one really spoke of, but Azcheron had noticed, being directly concerned. One without status had to be brave enough to bear the looks of disdain and mockery given by half the people present ¨C more often than not, nobility that prided itself in its education and didn''t exactly appreciate seeing supposedly uneducated commoners listening to the same lectures.

    It wasn''t that bad for Azcheron seeing as he was now somehow respected by most of Anton''s students, who came to understand his talent with raw mana. Still, he would often notice a few looks of disgust of hatred in the lecture hall, though he found it rather amusing, if anything.

    This evening''s seminar would be about anatomy, a subject that interested both Azcheron and Erin. Hence, he was waiting for her to arrive in front of the hall entrance.

    The freezing air was numbing his face, and it had started to snow during the day. Azcheron didn''t dare to imagine how harsh was the cold outside the capital. He was honestly thankful to the Second Emperor or whoever was the genius who designed this weather artefact.

    Ah, there she is.

    As Erin walked toward him, he noticed the clearly irritated look on her face.

    He called out to her. ¡°Are you aware that you look like you''re about to stab someone ? You''re almost late, by the way.¡±

    ¡°I know, because I do feel like stabbing someone. Many someones, to be exact. They''re called the Verald family.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°Well, shall we go inside ? Better have your rant in the warmth of the lecture hall.¡±

    Azcheron had an idea about the cause of Erin''s anger. She had been coming with him to a few seminars in the past two weeks, and some people had apparently recognized her. And this morning, a butler of some sort approached her to tell her that her family wished to have a talk with her. It did not take a genius to guess that the meeting went awry.

    ¡°Why didn''t you wait for me inside ?¡± Erin whispered as they sat in the back of the lecture hall.

    ¡°I didn''t feel like subjecting myself to the customary display of intellectual mediocrity.¡±

    They could see that the professor had not arrived yet, but they wanted to avoid being heard by everyone, since they were already being observed.

    ¡°I can see that.¡±

    ¡°So, how did it go ?¡±

    She answered snidely. ¡°Badly. Don''t tell me you were hoping for something else ?¡±

    ¡°I''d be almost disappointed otherwise. I mean, what did they want ?¡±

    ¡°Pretty much what I expected. They asked ¨C more like ordered ¨C that I keep a low profile and refrain from bringing any dishonour to the family during my stay here, which of course they''d like to be as brief as possible.¡±

    ¡°My, my. ''Tis nice to feel the love of your family, isn''t it ?¡±

    ¡°I perfectly agree. I almost made my uncle feel the love of my dagger when he ''asked'' that I also stop showing myself at the Academy, and what''s more, in the company of a lowly commoner. That would be you, I gather.¡±

    ¡°Surely you will comply with these reasonable demands, being the good daughter that you are.¡±

    She let out a small laugh. Some heads turned in their direction, wearing a disapproving expression. The lecture had just started, so they kept on in an even lower voice.

    ¡°Still, I managed to get at least one good thing out of this, but they won''t be happy when they find out.¡± She took off her furred overcoat and pointed at herself. ¡°My old knight uniform. Oddly enough they kept it, I guess that an achievement is still an achievement even when it comes from me. ¡±

    Azcheron didn''t notice before because of her coat, but now even in the obscurity of the lecture hall''s last row, he could see that she was dressed differently than usual.

    Erin was now wearing some sort of dark-coloured velvet tunic and pants. The tunic was long sleeved and had a mandarin collar, buttoned tightly from the neck to below the waist, covering the top of the thighs, and fastened with a black leather belt. The boots, made from the same leather, were slender and seemed very light, the complete opposite of the thick travelling boots she wore before.

    She explained Azcheron that this was the regular imperial attire for knights when they attended ceremonies or public social events, in this case a seminar. Most knights usually wore it in their everyday life, basically whenever they were not in armour, but until now Erin did not dare to do the same, because she had to lay low.

    She does not seem to care about drawing notice, now. All the better. People associating with the attention-gathering me have to be equally attention-gathering !

    She wasn''t carrying her sword with her, but Azcheron knew that she at least kept her dagger somewhere on herself. She had a boyish look overall, with her confident smile, her scar running down her left cheek, her neck-length straight hair squaring her sharp facial features, and the simple but stylish knight''s clothing. Yet it didn''t impede her feminine grace and her curves.

    And those clever golden eyes. She gave the feeling of a dangerous but very elegant warrior. He had thought that before, but this time it was different.

    For perhaps the first time in his life, Azcheron gazed at a woman through the eyes of a young man.

 14 - Imperial Capital II

    ¡°I''ve recently started to teach Azcheron about the world. He is taking a keen interest in the legends and heroes of the continent, acting like the child he should be. Today I told him about the great men of our time. Of course, he very much enjoyed my telling of the great battles of Roharl the Dragon Slayer, or of the sorceress Karia leading armies against hordes of demons. I even told him about Oscar, though I really hope he''ll never try to meet him. That guy has a bad reputation.

    I''m not so arrogant that I''d try to include my own name among these famous ones, but I wanted to explain him the origins of my title. Strangely enough he didn''t seem to believe or enjoy the tales of Anton, Lord of the Storm, as much as I hoped. It was awkward.

    -Anton''s diary, 2<sup>nd</sup> journey to the island¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    It was around this time that Azcheron''s notoriety regarding his peculiar status was eclipsed by the rumours of his talent as a mage ¨C and it did not happen as he had planned.

    Not that it mattered in the end. But it was an unexpected turn of event for him. Anton definitely was full of surprises. He was a calculating bastard of course, like Azcheron, but he was also a real friend.

    Anton had arranged for a very special meeting. Three people were standing in the middle of one of the Academy''s courtyard covered in snow.

    Anton Vardt did nothing to hide the smirk on his face. Azcheron did nothing to hide the huge grin he was wearing either. Because the third person present was none other than Roharl, the Empire''s greatest wizard.

    Roharl, nicknamed the Dragon Slayer for obvious reasons, was also a professor at the Academy. He was in charge of an advanced course opened only to a handful of talented elite students ¨C magical warfare and fighting.

    It seemed he had easily agreed to meet Azcheron at Anton''s request, as himself was, supposedly, also interested in the boy. After all, he had known Azcheron''s mother years ago, when she came to the continent.

    She had been Roharl''s disciple, even if that was for a short time. She had told Azcheron about him, about his strength. Of course, now that he was finally facing him, there was one thing Azcheron wanted to do above all.

    ¡°So you''re Ariama''s kid, eh ? She and Anton told me about you. You became the Saint at seven, surpassing you mother and making Anton''s mouth gaping.¡±

    Roharl was a hairy, intimidating man with a bulky frame. He glared at Azcheron with his penetrating eyes, almost hidden under thick, frowning eyebrows and long black hair falling on his shoulder.

    If I had not been told who he was, I would have though he was a gladiator or a barbarian...

    ¡°Don''t look at the boy like that, I don''t want you scaring him,¡± Anton jokingly said.

    ¡°That''s my normal face, you old bastard.¡± Roharl didn''t seem to care that he was almost as old as Anton, even if he didn''t look like it.

    He does appear scary, though. Let us not anger him unnecessarily.

    ¡°It''s an immense pleasure to meet you, lord Roharl.¡±

    ¡°Oh, ''lord'', you say. You''re more polite than I thought. I expected a rude shout as a form of salutation, with you being a Rahal and whatnot.¡±

    ¡°I can do that if you want. I just figured that with the many enemies I plan on making, I''d rather avoid you being among them.¡±

    ¡°Hehehe. Alright then, show me that you''re a proper Saint. My ears are ready.¡±

    As Azcheron crossed his arms and took a deep breath, Anton was about to open his mouth, probably to voice an objection. But Azcheron didn''t let him.

    ¡°GREETINGS, ROHARL THE DRAGON SLAYER ! I, AZCHERON THE RAHAL SAINT, CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL !¡±

    If the few people in the immediate vicinity of the courtyard weren''t caring for what was happening before, they were now.

    ¡°HAHAHA ! That''s the spirit, kid ! Let''s face off then, son of Ariama !¡±

    Anton had an expression that seem to mean ''I expected this but I think now I regret it''. Azcheron''s heart was racing, which was quite the rare occurrence. He was going to witness the might of Roharl, the mage, at first hand.

    ¡°I know I just made a grandiose claim but I''d still appreciate if we avoided killing each other.¡±

    Roharl scratched his bearded chin. ¡°Hmm, I see what you mean. Then should we agree on a few rules while we''re at it ?¡±

    ¡°Yes. So, no lethal use of magic. A hit on the face or the torso means loss ?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. And, we should avoid destroying the Academy.¡± Roharl waved his hand toward the buildings.

    Anton interjected. ¡°Were you planning on casting magical bombardments or something ?¡±

    ¡°No time limit or restrictions on magic and movement, other than that ?¡± Azcheron inquired, ignoring the old professor.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°I think it''s fine like that. No killing each other or the onlookers, no destroying the place. The rest is up to us.¡±

    ¡°Anton, could you shoo away or at least ask these people to step back a bit ? Fifty meters should do.¡±

    ¡°Fif-?!... Urg, fine. Be careful, boys, I don''t want to have a mess to clean up after that.¡±

    I won''t get to see his most famous magic, the Void Lance, but then if I did it would be the last thing I see. I''d have to be something like a dragon to hope survive such a thing. Then again... he does use that spell to kill them.

    It was a spell that Azcheron couldn''t comprehend. He did somehow understand the idea behind it ¨C basically throwing vacuum at someone, whatever that meant ¨C but he had no idea how it worked nor how one could cast it. Roharl apparently didn''t use a chant for this spell, and so no one could hope to reproduce it without knowing its inner-workings.

    Idiots believed it was some kind of wind magic, and non-idiots were losing sleep over the unfathomable nature of the spell.

    Good thing he only fights dragons nowadays. Maybe he can''t find a challenge worthy of himself anymore within the other races. But Roharl isn''t the kind of magician that simply depends on raw magical strength and overpowered spells. I can''t afford to joke around even if it''s just a spar.

    ¡°Ready ?¡± the bulky mage asked.

    Azcheron nodded. A second after, he couldn''t see Roharl.

    Illusion magic right off the bat ?

    Glancing at the direction of the footprints in the thin layer of snow, he turned just in time to dodge a lightning bolt aimed at his face. No time to create a magical protection when you had no idea from what type of attack and from what direction you had to defend. Dodging was the best course of action most of the time.

    As he was losing his balance, Azcheron quickly casted a small but very hot fireball toward the ground. Upon contact with the snow, it created a cloud of smoke and vapor that gave him enough time to steady his footing and immediately step aside. It all happened in an instant, and Azcheron knew that if he hadn''t acted that fast, he would have lost.

    Another lightning projectile flew out of the smoke, passing him by half a meter, confirming his thoughts.

    Azcheron casted a series of magic missiles ¨C just strong enough to knock his opponent away ¨C while side stepping around the smokescreen. He couldn''t really see Roharl anyway because checking the ground for footprints would take too long, so the smoke worked in his favour.

    Roharl, as the experienced mage he was, must have understood that since he promptly created a small whirlwind to clear the cloud.

    Azcheron could still not see him. Then suddenly the ground became slippery. The snow was now smooth solid ice and Azcheron had to slow down to avoid falling. As he prepared another fireball to melt the ice and grant him cover, he heard a buzzing sound coming from behind.

    He instinctively dove and saw a volley of electric bolts flying above him. Someone screamed and there was a small thud. It must have hit one of the onlookers.

    But he didn''t have time to think about that. He glanced at the direction the bolts came from but as he expected Roharl was, again, nowhere to be seen.

    How does he run around on this ice and not slip ?! Did he enchant his feet or something ?

    Azcheron took a second to prepare his next magic. Fire erupted everywhere from under the ice, exploding and dissolving it and producing another, larger, cloud. He could have profited of the already frozen ground combined with a large ice spell to try and immobilize Roharl, but he would have been hindered the same way, and the fire spell had two positive consequences ¨C melting the ice that stopped him from moving freely, and creating smoke that was an advantage almost only to him.

    He then used magic to enhance his hearing. The sizzling of the melting became louder, but among the noise he could distinguish the faint sound of footsteps.

    Coming from the left. Very close now. Then it stopped.

    Azcheron jumped to the side as a enormous magic missile crashed on the spot he previously was.

    Can he see me through the smoke ? Or hear me ? He was close when he casted that spell, at least.

    Getting up and moving again, away from Roharl''s supposed location, Azcheron casted a series of lightning arcs toward it, but made the trajectory into wide curve, as to fake his own location.

    The smoke is still dense enough to hide me, so it''s unlikely he saw from where I casted my spell... The lightning should have either hit or missed by now. If he still comes in my direction, it means he can hear me somehow even when I don''t move.

    As if answering his thoughts, Roharl spoke.

    ¡°I can hear your breathing and heartbeat, kid. Should have used sound magic to hide yourself, not to find me.¡±

    Reflexively throwing a large magic missile where the voice came from, Azcheron immediately realized his mistake. He didn''t have to wait for the smoke dissipate to know that Roharl was not in that direction.

    From the side, a punch came.

    The fist hit him in the face, blasting him away as if he was a rag doll.

    ¡°I win.¡±

    Indeed. Had Roharl been using a weapon, or casted a lethal spell instead of punching him, Azcheron would have died.

    ¡°I should have known that a guy talking about sound magic and hiding would not reveal his location by speaking,¡± Azcheron said as he got up, massaging his cheek, although his whole body was hurting because of his spectacular fall.

    The smoke was gone now, and he could see Roharl standing, arms crossed against his chest, a wide grin plastered on his bearded face.

    ¡°Hehehe. It''s a neat ploy, eh ? I thought it''d be fun to do that since you tried to trick me the same way with your electric arcs.¡±

    ¡°I feel like I made a beginner mistake.¡±

    ¡°Nay. You acted on pure reflex, in the middle of a mind battle. Can''t help it. I''m impressed you actually lasted this long. I understand now why your mother felt dejected when she compared herself to you, and she wasn''t a weakling.¡±

    As whispers and murmurs started to circulate among the mass of spectators ¨C it seemed that the duel had attracted many curious people ¨C Anton approached Azcheron and Roharl.

    ¡°So, what did you think of him ? I wasn''t lying, was I ?¡±

    ¡°If anything I''d say you made me underestimate him. For a kid who supposedly knows nothing of the world, he has surprisingly good fighting instincts. He makes good use of his environment and takes quick and interesting decisions when faced with an imminent threat. He has the wits and skills necessary to use raw mana the right way.¡±

    Azcheron kept silent. The taste of defeat stopped him from appreciating Roharl''s praising assessment of the fight.

    A punch. I was beaten in a magic fight with a damn punch.

    And Roharl''s punch packed power. His bulky body was not for show. Azcheron could guess that the man had elevated the art of fighting with magic by incorporating martial arts and weapon wielding.

    In place of being a spellblade, a warrior using magic, he was more of a mage who would use physical force as a boon.

    As the sounds of Anton and Roharl talking and the whispers of the spectators became background noise, Azcheron pondered on what he learned from this spar.

    It was a good lesson. He still had a lot to do if he wanted to catch up to the Dragon Slayer. He had not expected that man to be smarter than him when it came to using raw mana and non-lethal magic in unconventional ways.

    ¡°Don''t look so down, kid. We''ve got a lifetime of experience between us. And who knows, if it was a fight to the death without any restriction, it may have turned out differently.¡±

    ¡°Right. The fight would have lasted three seconds instead because I would have died immediately. I''d be overwhelmed by sheer magic power.¡±

    ¡°Hehehe. It takes at least that to slay dragons, trust me.¡±

    I don''t doubt it.

    And so, Azcheron met and fought the Empire''s strongest mage two weeks after arriving at the Academy.

    The word would spread soon enough.

 15 - Imperial Capital III

    ¡°Professor Karlos'' classes are very demanding. I believe he is not called a master spellblade for nothing. Surely his peculiar method of teaching is justified by the heights his prowess has attained. I have come to understand the pedagogic value of bone-breaking during his lessons. Still, I would not recommend it to everybody. Professor Karlos tends not to approve of the presence of weak-minded students in his training grounds, and his disapproval manifests itself through pedagogic bone-breaking. Like I said, his lessons are very demanding.

    -Anonymous scribble found in the infirmary¡±

    * * *

    Jeremiah

    Jeremiah awoke to the gentle sound of someone ruthlessly banging against his door. Jumping out of the bed with half closed eyes, he tried to make himself as presentable as he could in the generous thirty seconds he knew he had before the person banging on his door started to unhinge it with magic.

    As he grumpily opened the door, he glared at the smiling handsome young man responsible for his wake.

    ¡°Why, if it isn''t Darius. Who has taken it upon himself to wake me up just in time for... nothing, because it''s my only day off in the week.¡±

    ¡°Bah ! Don''t act like that, Jeremiah. Can I come in ?¡±

    ¡°It''s not as if you''d listen to me, were I to say no because I wanted to go back to sleep. What time is it anyway ?¡± he asked as he motioned for him to enter.

    Both were students living in the Academy''s dormitory. As Darius sat on the only chair of the room, Jeremiah noticed the bandage on the finger of his left hand.

    ¡°It''s not dawn yet.¡±

    ¡°What ?!¡± Jeremiah rushed to the window and opened the curtains. He groaned as he saw that it was still dark outside. ¡°Ugh... What the hell, Darius ? I''m definitely kicking you out and going back to bed. Why are you even here ?¡±

    ¡°Now, now. Haven''t you heard ?¡±

    ¡°Heard what ? What could I possibly have not heard at this hour, I wonder ?¡±

    ¡°Ah, of course, I forgot. I just had morning practise so you wouldn''t know since you weren''t there.¡±

    ¡°Morning practise you say. During night. That bald guy really works his students to the bone, eh ?¡± Smirking, Jeremiah pointed at Darius'' broken finger. He was proud of his pun.¡°Courtesy of professor Karlos ?¡±

    His friend shrugged and gave a wry smile as an answer.

    ¡°So, what did you caught wind of that required you barging in my room when I specifically told you I wished to sleep in today ?¡±

    ¡°You know that new guy, the young assistant of Anton Vardt, I think ? Turns out he''s much more than he lets out.¡±

    ¡°What, Azcheron ? I think I have a friend who has classes with Vardt but I don''t know much about him. Just that he''s about the same age as us ?¡±

    ¡°That''s the guy. Well, those are only rumours and you know how things easily get out of control here, but...¡±

    ¡°... But ?¡±

    ¡°People say that Roharl personally took him as his disciple !¡±

    ¡°Hmm. Eh ? Roharl ? The Roharl ?¡±

    ¡°The one and only. Apparently they had a duel and then even though Azcheron lost, the Dragon Slayer kept complimenting him and saying how he had natural talent for magic and fighting.¡±

    Jeremiah didn''t know what to say. The Dragon Slayer wasn''t the kind type of teacher. Actually, the only professor harsher than Roharl was that evil bastard Karlos. Roharl didn''t beat up his students but he was known to give them a mouthful for every little detail. Psychological beating was his specialty. For him to compliment someone, it must have been one damn of a fight.

    ¡°I almost believed you for a moment. These are only rumours, right ? No way Roharl would act so out of character.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know. But don''t you want to find out ? I think Vardt gives a engineering lesson in the morning so we might be able to catch his assistant before or after ? That''s why I''m here, I guess.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, except the engineering class is in like four or five hours ! Now get the hell out of my room.¡±

    Darius complied, while insisting. ¡°Meet me in front of the lecture hall when the class ends, alright ?¡±

    ¡°Sure, fine, whatever. As long as I can finish my night,¡± Jeremiah said as his friend finally left.

    He slammed to door and buried himself under the fur covers of his bed.

    * * *

    When Jeremiah arrived before the classroom to meet with his friend, he pursed his lips as he noticed they weren''t the only ones waiting. Darius was accompanied with two people Jeremiah only knew from afar.

    ¡°Ah, you''re here, good.¡± The handsome youth waved to him as he walk toward his group.

    Darius'' friends were also nobles whose names Jeremiah never bothered to remember. For convenience''s sake, he called them Snobby and Fuzzy. He didn''t particularly like them and they probably felt the same with him. To only thing they had in common was Darius'' friendship, as strange as it was.

    In any case, the merry band was complete, and professor Vardt''s lesson would end soon. The band had rivals also waiting for the class to finish, and the three or four groups were eyeing each other as if a brawl was about to start.

    When the engineering students finally exited the room in a torrent of bodies, one waiting group was washed away by the human tidal wave. It was almost noon after all, and everyone was getting hungry, hence the rushing out of the classroom.

    Finally Anton Vardt and his assistant stepped out. They were discussing something about an ear-shaped artefact ¨C Jeremiah was probably the only one to understand from the context, because he was studying runes and artefacts ¨C and did not seem to pay attention to the three groups glaring at them. Or, could it be that they were deliberately ignoring that ?

    They started to walk away and it did not look like they were going to stop and ask what the student wanted anytime soon.

    Darius decided to follow them, Jeremiah and the others hurrying behind him. Another group did the same, while the third probably deemed the venture not worthy. It would soon be noon, after all. People were getting hungry.

    After some time only Darius'' group was left. The rival band had been lost around some corner, probably succumbing to the hunger. It would soon be noon, after all.

    I''m really getting hungry. Damn you Darius, I hope this is worth my time.

    Anton Vardt and Azcheron finally separated in front of a small garden, the old professor walking away while the assistant stood in the outside, seemingly waiting for something.

    Darius approached him and was about to speak when Azcheron addressed him without even turning back.

    ¡°You are extremely persistent. Why are you following me ? Aren''t you hungry ? It''s almost noon, after all.¡±

    Don''t say it ! My hunger increases each time I think about it.

    ¡°Forgive my rudeness, assistant-professor. I am Darius Farril.¡± Azcheron raised an eyebrow hearing his name. ¡°Would you mind if I asked you something ?¡±

    ¡°I can probably guess what this is about. I don''t mind, ask away.¡±

    ¡°Is it true you became Roharl''s disciple yesterday ?¡±

    Azcheron tried to repress a surprised laugh.

    ¡°Heh, is this what they say now ?¡± He sighed. ¡°It''s not true.¡±

    ¡°But you did have a duel with him ?¡±

    ¡°It was merely a spar, and I lost. Will that be all ? I would like to have lunch, assisting Anton makes me very hungry to the point of it not being funny anymore.¡±

    ¡°A mere spar, you say...¡± Darius had a complicated expression. He looked like he was about to say something else when they were interrupted.

    ¡°Did you finally make new friends ?¡±

    It was a tall red haired woman, in a knight''s attire. She was smirking and despite her question, she clearly had an idea about what was actually happening.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°Thank the gods you''re here. I was thinking you''d never arrive. Come, let us have lunch or I will have to murder and eat someone.¡±

    ¡°If I may request something of you, Azcheron !¡±

    Everyone turned to Darius. Jeremiah was confused. He though the whole venture was all about asking Azcheron about the rumours, but Darius seemed extremely insistent. Even with his cheerful demeanour, which, Jeremiah knew, was hiding a very clever mind, he was acting in a strange manner.

    He carried on. ¡°I would like to have a duel, or a spar with you. Whichever you prefer, and whatever rules you choose, I''m fine with it.¡±

    Eh ? What''s up with this, suddenly ?

    Snobby and Fuzzy seemed equally puzzled. This morning''s excitement and curiosity seemed to be gone, there was now in Darius'' voice and expression only determination and something else Jeremiah couldn''t exactly describe. This was undoubtedly different from his usual personality.

    ¡°No,¡± Azcheron replied, looking at the handsome noble straight in the eyes. ¡°I wish to have lunch. And I do not feel like sparring today. I am in a rather unforgiving mood. Something to do with being harassed with questions since I woke up. How the hell do rumours here spread so quickly in less than a day, I cannot fathom. What I know, is that if we fight, you might end up getting hurt or even dying. And I certainly don''t want to deal with the consequences of what will probably be seen as me assaulting and killing an important noble''s son.¡±

    Jeremiah couldn''t blame him. The Academy was a political arena and surely Azcheron had already gathered much attention, from both well and ill intentioned high-placed people. The smallest issue could be blown up to awfully dangerous proportions.

    But Darius did not look like he would give up anytime soon, and as he insisted, the red haired woman interjected.

    ¡°I can spar with you if you want. I''ll be a better match for you anyway. Isn''t it fine like that ?¡±

    ¡°Oi, Erin. You will really end up killing him, I know you. You even look like you''ll do it on purpose.¡±

    ¡°Well at least I have better chances at getting away with it. And I certainly don''t mind bringing trouble to those bastards now that they know I''m here. It''s my job anyway, right ? To deal with the nobles that come for your head,¡± she said playfully, though Jeremiah felt creeped out as he couldn''t really say if she was joking or not.

    Darius stared at the girl and seemed to have realized something. ¡°Err, forgive me, but you seem familiar. May I ask for your full name ?¡±

    ¡°Erin Verald. Don''t worry about holding back because of that name. There''s no need for that.¡±

    Eh ?! What is a Verald doing here ? Now this is getting either interesting or troublesome for all of us.

    Darius looked like he exited his insisting trance and spoke with a more smiling tone. His usual charisma was back.

    ¡°Hehe... I don''t know about this whole thing. I take your scars for proof that you''re experienced, at least.¡± Both Azcheron and the Verald girl seemed surprised to hear reasonable words from Darius. ¡°I would like to suggest something else if you are to be my opponent then.¡±

    ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°A spar with wooden swords. No magic, swordsmanship only. You would be giving me guidance, basically.¡±

    ¡°Ooh ?¡±

    ¡°What are you saying, Darius !¡±

    ¡°Have you no pride ?!¡±

    Snobby and Fuzzy seemed discontent with Darius'' request.

    A spellblade thing, perhaps ? Something to do with pride and magic, that I can guess.

    ¡°I know what you''re both thinking, but I think it''s stupid to aim to become a spellblade when we don''t even have that much experience with swordsmanship alone.¡± Darius then turned to the young lady. ¡°So, what do you say, Erin Verald ?¡±

    ¡°I perfectly agree. Shall we go to the training grounds then ?¡±

    As everyone started to walk toward the practise area, Jeremiah noticed the aura of doom coming from Azcheron. He must have been really hungry and displeased with this turn of event.

    * * *

    ¡°So fill me in briefly, what have you been learning until now ?¡± Erin asked while picking up a wooden sword and walking in the muddy training ground.

    Darius answered half-hesitantly. ¡°Err, before coming here, duel etiquette and stances. Our teacher is currently making us do strength and stamina training.¡±

    ¡°Right, of course. So I guess I''ll give you a few important lessons. Better learn those now than in the middle of a real fight.¡±

    ¡°Please.¡± The noble bowed, and Erin knitted her brows.

    ¡°Being hit to the head or torso makes for a loss. Ready when you are.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Azcheron, would you mind giving the signal ?¡± he asked the assistant-professor while taking a one-handed fencing stance. He did not look too hindered by his broken finger, seeing as his sword hand was unharmed.

    Azcheron didn''t seem to enjoy at all being treated as a referee when he should have been eating his lunch. ¡°Let''s make this quick. Start.¡±

    As the signal was given, Erin threw her sword, aiming at Darius. He managed to block the spinning sword with his own weapon, only for his face to encounter Erin''s fist. She had rushed toward her opponent as soon as her sword left her hand.

    Darius fell on the muddy ground, a look of surprise on his face.

    ¡°Lesson one. Fighting with swords isn''t only about swinging swords.¡±

    Jeremiah could see the puzzled expression on Snobby and Fuzzy''s faces. He didn''t care enough for swords and spellblades and honour to find anything wrong with what Erin did or said. It sounded legit to him, even.

    ¡°Right, my loss. Once again, please,¡± he calmly said while touching his bruised jaw.

    ¡°Hm.¡±

    They took their positions again. Azcheron gave the signal.

    This time Darius prepared himself for an unexpected assault, but Erin just stood there. As he carefully approached, the female knight planted the tip of her sword in the ground, and suddenly raised it, throwing muddy snow and sand to Darius'' face. It went into his eyes, and as he rubbed them and try to protect himself blindly, Erin struck him.

    ¡°Damn.¡±

    ¡°Lesson two. Forget about swordsmanship and etiquette. Use everything you can, from environment to psychological warfare, to win.¡±

    ¡°What !¡±

    ¡°That''s dishonourable !¡±

    Erin glared at Snobby and Fuzzy. ¡°Right. Next, we''ll have the third and final lesson, about honour. Take your stance.¡±

    Darius complied, more careful than ever this time. Azcheron''s frustrated frown was gone, he now wore an amused grin. He gave yet again the signal.

    Erin started to walk around the small training arena, Darius mimicking her, keeping a relatively safe distance. She stopped at some point and stood still, like the previous time.

    Darius, obviously not caring about winning and judging more important to see what was Erin''s last lesson about, rushed forward to attack.

    As he did, Erin stepped back, grabbed Snobby by the arm and used him as a shield.

    ¡°He.. Hey !¡±

    Darius stopped and, confused, dropped his guard. Erin pushed the gesticulating and complaining Snobby toward Darius, and while he was busy catching his friend, she closed in on them and struck her opponent.

    ¡°That was the last lesson. Forget about honour, it''ll get you or your friends killed.¡±

    ¡°What the hell was that all about ?¡± Snobby menacingly inquired.

    ¡°Knight my ass ! How did you even manage to graduate knight school with your petty tricks ?¡± Fuzzy added.

    Why are you getting angry !? What she said makes sense. But even Darius looks like he didn''t expect that. What are they teaching you in spellblade courses !

    ¡°Say whatever you want. You''re aiming to become spellblades, right ? Do you believe bandits and beasts will wait for you to bow and state your name, title and whatnot, or nicely let you cast a spell ? They won''t let you pick up your weapon if you lose it. They''ll use trees and dirt and people to hinder you. And you''ll have to do the same because when you''re fighting against twenty guys at the same time you''ll need all the help you can get. Or you can keep your honour and die with it. Actually, most of the time you should run if you can.¡±

    ¡°Are you talking from experience ?¡± Darius questioned.

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied flatly.

    ¡°Heh. Professor Karlos would probably like you. I guess now I get why he keeps beating us while yelling that we''re useless slobs only good to serve as cannon fodder...¡±

    Azcheron stepped forward, and rose an eyebrow quizzically. ¡°Aren''t you guys supposed to learn those things in your lessons ? Even without being told that, is it not common sense ?¡±

    Jeremiah couldn''t agree more. Even he, who came to the Academy to study magical runes and archeology, knew that there was no honour in a death-match. Not that he had ever saw or been in one.

    ¡°Can''t blame them. It''s because of the Empire''s ways that the nobility is so deeply rooted in misconceptions about everything. Most nobles that become knights or spellblades actually never come close to a real battle during their entire life. They do ''honourable duels'' occasionally, at most.¡±

    Darius concurred. ¡°Well, that, and the fact that we, spellblade students, place far too much value and pride in being magic users ? That is why I asked a spar. Karlos won''t even teach us these things, I guess he''s the ''figure it out yourself'' kind of guy, haha...¡±

    ¡°Bah ! If it''s just fighting dirty, anyone can do that !¡± Fuzzy boasted arrogantly.

    ¡°And in a real fight there are some people who can use magic, and some who can''t.¡± Snobby looked at Erin with mocking eyes. ¡°Say, since you''re as accustomed to the real world as you think you are, lady Verald, you wouldn''t deem it unfair to fight me, a magic user, for example.¡±

    Erin stared coldly at Snobby.

    ¡°You''re right, that''s how it goes. Does that mean you want to have a bout ? You''re allowed to use magic if you want. Your friend can join too.¡±

    Hm ? Can she really not use magic ?

    ¡°What... What are you getting excited for ! Fine, I... We''ll show you.¡± Snobby glanced at Fuzzy, as if looking for his approval.

    ¡°Ah ? Err... I''ll pass ?¡± he said with an awkward voice. Snobby made an annoyed face but seem to accept his decision.

    ¡°Since this is going to be a lesson about pride and humility, I won''t hold back.¡± Erin looked at Darius to see if he was going to express some concerns.

    ¡°It''s okay, we students of Karlos are used to bruises and broken bones.¡± He did have a tinge of worry in his voice, but it was clearly directed toward his friend.

    Snobby didn''t seem to be that much of an idiot as he prepared seriously for the spar. Stretching, checking both the arena and his weapon.

    ¡°I''ll wait for the fight to start before enchanting my sword,¡± he said confidently, as it was supposed to be an ''enactment'' of a real-life situation. Then why did he do all these preparations before, no one bothered to ask.

    Erin sighted and nodded. Both looked at Azcheron, who gave the signal.

    Immediately, Erin rushed forward while Snobby muttered something that made his wooden sword coated in a thin layer of mana.

    He barely had the time to guard against a heavy overhead slash from Erin. There was a loud crack, and it took most people half a second to realize that Erin''s sword had just broke against the now hard-as-steel enchanted wood.

    However in that small window of time, Erin had apparently already understood what had occurred and was able to follow up. Using the momentum of her downward slash, she crouched low, supported her weight with one hand on the ground and kicked at Snobby in a strange spinning upward motion.

    The kick hit Snobby''s hand, pushing away his sword and making him lose his balance. Erin, still holding tightly the remaining half of her weapon, got up and promptly stabbed his defenceless arm with it.

    The broken wooden sword was buried deep under the shoulder, and having probably crushed the bone inside, had left the arm bloody and dangling. How brutal could her strikes get ? Snobby, feeling the sudden surge of pain, fell on his knees, whimpering and not daring to touch his wound.

    ¡°See ? Sometimes magic and enchantments won''t help you if you have nothing to back it up behind.¡±

    ¡°Wh-... How ? I barely had the time to figure out what happened !¡± Darius exclaimed, bewildered.

    ¡°Did you think I had never fought any spellblades ? I expected my sword to snap against the mana coating beforehand, so I devised several plans. I could have stabbed his leg or foot just after my weapon broke, or crushed his knee or groin instead of kicking his hand. Unless you''ve got amazing instincts and inhuman reflexes to act on it, you should always think up possibilities and prepare for them. It''ll never be enough, but it helps.¡±

    While Fuzzy attended to the injured Snobby, Darius pondered what he had just watched. He looked relieved and glad that Erin didn''t deem necessary to teach him that way. Karlos'' pedagogic method must have been hard enough like that. No need to have another lesson of the same kind.

    After exchanging a few words, Erin and Azcheron said their goodbyes to Darius and left. They didn''t pay mind to Jeremiah, seeing as he had not said a word from the beginning and they probably decided he was a loner unrelated to Darius. If they even noticed him.

    Jeremiah suddenly remembered his hunger. It was past noon, after all.

    He would eat, and then... Yes, go back to sleep. This whole mess had tired him.

 16 - Imperial Capital IV

    ¡°To the west of the Empire lay the Desolate Lands. ''Tis said that these are grounds of cold sand, sharp rocks and deadly encounters. Life does not occur in its barren soils, yet death flourishes. Old historical accounts tell of an ancient, now ruined and forgotten kingdom, far to the west, beyond the horizon that can be seen from the mountains. The cold desert is famed for its air devoid of mana, and the colossal stone golems forever roaming it. It is unknown whether the golems caused the fall of the kingdom that laid here, or if they are the last remnants of its lost civilization. One could only theorize that the golems are eating the mana, therefore eternally preventing any other existence, while prolonging their own.

    -Entry from an old encyclopedia¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°I''m surprised you didn''t actually end up killing anyone,¡± Azcheron said as he bit into a piece of bread.

    Erin swallowed the food she was munching before replying. ¡°Who do you take me for ? I''m not a blood-thirsty berserker. I was just... joking.¡±

    I do feel like you''re also ''joking'' right now.

    ¡°Well, in any case, that was certainly an entertaining episode.¡±

    ¡°See ! You''re the one enjoying that. I''m sure you got off on seeing me beating up these poor guys.¡±

    ¡°I was just angry with them because they delayed my lunch.¡±

    They walked toward the Academy''s library as they finished eating. Before Darius appeared, Azcheron had planned to eat quickly and spend the rest of the day searching and reading documents there. Erin, having nothing else to do before the evening''s seminary, decided to stay with him.

    As they entered the library, Azcheron remembered he had a question for Erin.

    ¡°So, I noticed something, Erin.¡± She looked at Azcheron, waiting for him to continue. ¡°It seems your family name has a peculiar effect on most people. They promptly freak out or become somehow mindful when the name Verald is mentioned.¡±

    Erin became grumpy. ¡°Yeah, it does have that impact on people.¡±

    ¡°Care to explain ?¡± Azcheron was getting increasingly curious.

    ¡°Hah... Okay. I told you my house was well-known in the Empire, yes ? Let''s just say that they hold a lot of power in the Imperial Palace. The Verald are famous because they''re one of the four main houses that are basically governing the nation.¡±

    He let out a laugh, seeing the face of his friend. She seemed to feel guilty for hiding how important her family was.

    ¡°You know, I almost expected you to confess you were royalty or something, for a moment. But I guess that makes more sense, regarding how bent they are on telling you to lie low.¡±

    Erin simply gave a wry grin, and Azcheron carried on. ¡°I''ll get worried about bringing you real trouble at this rate. I''m not necessarily planning to stay on friendly terms with the Empire, in the distant future.¡±

    ¡°Don''t be. I told you already. I don''t care anymore about trouble, especially if it''s related to my family. If it comes to that, we''ll deal with it, won''t we ?¡±

    Azcheron shook his head. ¡°Even then, I don''t intend to act carelessly before I can secure a safe position. I''ll wait until I am well-known and popular to do my thing.¡± Upon seeing Erin''s mouth opening, he added, ¡°I''ll tell you about that when I''m ready.¡±

    And I need to do some research beforehand. There are several things that need confirmation, after all.

    ¡°Fine, fine. Tell me something else instead.¡±

    ¡°What would that be ?¡± he asked while struggling to reach for a book on a shelf.

    ¡°That boy, Darius. Darius Farril ? How come he was so eager to fight you ?¡±

    Azcheron stared blankly at the book''s cover he was holding, before putting it someplace else without a single care in the world, muttering. ¡°...the heck is this ? I don''t need that.¡± He then looked up at Erin. ¡°I can''t have you telling anyone about that, alright ?¡±

    ¡°Okay,¡± she said as she picked the misplaced book and put it back where Azcheron found it, while he tried once again to reach for the book he wanted.

    ¡°I wouldn''t know either if Anton hadn''t warned me yesterday. You know how everyone just call Roharl by his name ?¡± She nodded. ¡°Why, do you think ?¡±

    ¡°Because... he relinquished his family name ?¡± She paused, frowned, and carried on in a low voice. ¡°He''s a Farril ?¡±

    ¡°Anton implied so. He told me I may have to deal with the Farril house after the rumours about me and Roharl spread. I assume they''re another important family.¡±

    ¡°They are. But now I''m not sure anymore whether they became important thanks to Roharl or not.¡± She effortlessly grabbed the book Azcheron failed to obtain.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± he said as she handed out the book.

    ¡°What''s the story behind him, then ?¡±

    Azcheron shrugged. ¡°Who knows ? I''d say it could be something similar to your situation. That wouldn''t surprise me, I had the time to form a very negative opinion of the Empire''s nobility in these past two weeks.¡±

    ¡°Then you got dragged into a feud between them and the Dragon Slayer, and that''s why Darius challenged you ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t think so.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°If anything Darius gave me the impression that he admires Roharl. It''s probably something like wanting to test yourself against someone who sparred with your respected grand-father ? I''m just guessing things but that doesn''t seem too far-fetched.¡±

    They sat at one of the large and massive wooden tables located between the shelves. Erin looked at the books Azcheron had gathered.

    ¡°That''s a collection of peculiar books you''re reading. Stuff on summoning magic, illusion spells, and other things in a language I don''t know.¡±

    ¡°Peculiar... It is, isn''t it ?¡±

    ¡°What''s going on ?¡±

    ¡°The bout with Roharl got me thinking.¡± He saw Erin''s expression changing. He knew she was disappointed that she missed the fight. ¡°I have two things to do now.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

    ¡°Training ? Learning new spells ?¡±

    ¡°Training and discovering new uses for the magic I already know, yes.¡± He pointed at the books in the Common tongue. ¡°And learning new spells, yes.¡±

    ¡°What''s with the unintelligible writings then ? This looks like a... dictionary,¡± she said as she picked up and opened a heavy-looking book. ¡°What language is this ?¡±

    Azcheron wore a mischievous smile. ¡°That, my dear Erin, would be the Dragon tongue. Turns out there''s a plethora of very old spells still unknown to most people, because everything about them is written in that ancient language.¡±

    * * *

    ¡°I''m going to burn down the entire place.¡±

    Azcheron was resting his chin on the table. He had been trying to learn the Dragon tongue for weeks now, but he felt he wasn''t making much progress.

    ¡°Stop complaining. I should be the one ranting, you know ?¡±

    Erin also started to study the language, just to for fun and to pass time, but it proved way more difficult for her. As much as Azcheron enjoyed complaining in front of Erin, he had been learning at a considerably fast pace.

    She kept on. ¡°Besides I don''t think you have the right to act like a spoiled brat. This is so unfair. In less than a month you can already read most sentences. It should be impossible for the majority of people...¡±

    ¡°Except I take two hours per sentence. And I still need the dictionary. And I started with an advantage. Yet this is the most frustrating thing I''ve ever faced. I thought it''d be easier.¡± He straightened his back and picked up a magic encyclopedia.

    Azcheron didn''t start to learn the Dragon tongue on a whim. His mother had been telling him about her stay in the Academy, and at some point she mentioned, among many other things, how the Rahal dialect and the Dragon tongue had a some similarities.

    He wasn''t either doing this only because of the almost-forgotten magic he was eager to discover, he also had other reasons to do so. For one, many ancient history books were written in this language, and he had a few specific things he believed he could read about in said books. As he had a head start because of his mastery of the Rahal dialect, he had no reason to delay any further his studying of the Dragon tongue.

    But the young Saint had not expected this venture to be so challenging.

    ¡°The grammar makes me want to pull my own nails out. It''s as if someone took all the worst and most annoying grammatical rules of the Rahal speech, and thought it''d be fun to base an entire language around it. Then they decided to add even more difficult rules.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I wouldn''t know about that because I can''t even read this thing.¡±

    Erin had promptly given up on the language when she realized she couldn''t even differentiate the characters. That, and there were as many different handwritings as there were books ¨C most of the texts in the Common language were magically printed nowadays, but the old Dragon tongue was still being written by hand at the time.

    However Erin insisted that it didn''t mean she was bad at learning foreign languages. Having travelled a bit in the south before becoming a mercenary, she taught herself a bit of the languages from the neighbouring kingdoms.

    It was just that this particular one was... very special. It was created by dragons, after all.

    ¡°Ah, yes, well that is another issue. And I don''t even want to think about how you''re supposed to pronounce the words without magic. It''s obvious it wasn''t conceived with the capabilities of the human vocal cords in mind.¡±

    ¡°I wonder how smart people were back in the Empire''s beginnings. It shouldn''t be possible for an entire population to learn this thing unless every single one of them was a genius.¡±

    Now it was Erin who rested her head on the table, stretching her arms across it and covering Azcheron''s book with her hands.

    ¡°Maybe they weren''t and that''s why we now use the Common tongue ?¡± He moved Erin''s hands out of the way to find a specific page in the encyclopedia. ¡°Okay, I think we can try this.¡±

    Erin straightened up and looked at what Azcheron was pointing, but it was useless since she couldn''t read.

    ¡°What ?¡± she asked, frowning.

    He answered with a eerie smile. ¡°A summoning spell.¡±

    ¡°I have a bad feeling about this. You''re not going to summon a demon or something, right ?¡±

    ¡°It says majestic, err... feathered, I suppose ? Half the word is a disgusting scribbling but I''m pretty sure it''s feathered because next is birds. I don''t know of any unfeathered bird so... And with the colour of the sky. I think. It shouldn''t be too off the mark, hopefully.¡±

    Erin didn''t look hopeful.

    ¡°Haaah... I guess as long as it doesn''t turn out to be an army of skeleton tigers or a hundred-metres tall golem, we can still kill easily it if it''s dangerous...¡±

    As they exited the library to look for an ideal summoning location, Erin asked the dreaded question.

    ¡°How does summoning magic work, anyway ?¡±

    Azcheron knitted his brows and casted his eyes downward. ¡°Honestly ? No idea.¡±

    ¡°Doesn''t Anton know ? It''s his theory that magic is partly based on science, after all.¡±

    ¡°That''s the problem. According to him, it''s a magic that can''t be explained that way. I figure it''s so complicated that the current scientific knowledge hasn''t reached that level yet.¡±

    It was probably created by dragons anyway so... There''s a huge gap between their mental ability and ours, I wouldn''t be surprised if they already knew every secret the world has to offer.

    ¡°Hmm. Ah, isn''t here fine ? There''s no one around.¡± She pointed to a large and desert courtyard.

    ¡°Right.¡±

    They walked to the centre of the court, and Azcheron cleared the snow on the ground to draw a magic circle. It wasn''t anything complex, it just set the spawning point of the summoned entity. The chanted spell would do most of the work.

    When he was done, they both stepped back a bit, and Azcheron started to chant. The incantation was in Dragon tongue, of course, so Azcheron used wind and sound magic to help him pronounce it in a more or less proper manner. He guessed that every single human who could speak the language had to do so.

    As he voiced it, the incantation made him shudder. The sounds of the words were both grandiose and eerie. It felt like a superposition of a choir, roaring, guttural sounds and crystalline vibrations. He had practised his wind magic beforehand, but now it felt like the chant was being pronounced on its own, as if Azcheron only had to open his mouth and pour mana into the idea of the words, and they would realize themselves just like that.

    Is this how it''s supposed to sound ? Maybe that''s what happens when you use magic to speak it. Or is it just the incantation that makes it like that ?

    A disc of light formed inside the magic circle. Azcheron felt a surge of rightness and somehow knew that the incantation had worked the way it was intended.

    Then, from the light, they came.

    Dark bluish-purple abominable hairy bats. Hundreds of them. They were large and screeching, their small wings making a deafening flapping noise as they all were propelled out of the circle at a horrifying pace and went flying who knows were before the appalled Azcheron and Erin could react.

    ¡°No... What ? ¡­ How ? I don''t get it.¡± He massaged the bridge of his nose. ¡°I didn''t mess up the spell, I''m certain of it.¡±

    Erin replied with a voice that comprised both amusement and horror. ¡°Well, I get it. I think you need to work more on your vocabulary.¡±

    ¡°I''m pretty sure I did a good job...¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah ? How come you translated ''nightmarish hairy bats with the colour of night and darkness'' as ''majestic feathered birds with the colour of the sky'' then !?¡±

    ¡°What if I translated the thing properly and it''s just that the guy who wrote it was stupid or had differences of interpretation ?! Maybe the author was a demon and used whatever description he found adequate !!¡±

    ¡°Does it matter ! Now there''s like a thousand of these things flying above the Academy ! We don''t even know whether they''re harmless pets or evil inhabitants of whatever demonic plane they were summoned from ! And they don''t look like harmless pets !¡±

    ¡°Fine ! Let me think ! The stupid book doesn''t mention anything about controlling them but maybe it''s worth a try. What do I say ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know ! Something like ''come back where you''re from'' or ''disappear from this world'' !¡± she hurried him as she kept her eyes locked on the things flying above them.

    He desperately searched through the heavy dictionary. ¡°Err... That''s too long ! Ah, there''s disappear, here.¡±

    ¡°Good, say that.¡±

    Azcheron spoke and the peculiar choir-roaring happened again. ¡°Disappear !¡±

    Then, the things disappeared.

    ¡°It... worked ?¡± he asked, unsure.

    Erin had a relieved expression and was about to answer, when they heard the characteristic screeching and flapping of the things.

    ¡°DID YOU MAKE THEM INVISIBLE !?¡±

    What the heck ! Dragon tongue can''t cause something like that ! What were the chances that these things could use illusion magic !!

    ¡°Are you sure they''re not gone ?¡± he tried to lie his way through.

    ¡°As if ! We can still hear them ! Not being able to see them is actually worse. You just know they''re here. This is creeping me out !¡±

    ¡°Right, this is getting annoying, I''ll look for ''return'' or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Yes. You do that.¡± Erin looked slightly pissed. Slightly, as in, a lot.

    ¡°Return !¡± Azcheron spoke for the third time in the eerie sounding tongue. Finally the horrible noises of the things stopped. They waited for a moment to make sure, before rejoicing.

    It couldn''t be that I mispronounced ''return'' as ''be silent'', could it ? Hahaha... I sure hope not. There''s no way I''m sharing that doubt with Erin anyway.

    ¡°Good thing almost no one bothers to learn that language, I guess ?¡± Azcheron tried to joke.

    Erin glared at him. ¡°And you''ve got some more learning to do.¡±

    They quickly escaped the vicinity of the crime scene to avoid being recognized as the perpetrators of what would come to be known as the ''one minute-long invasion from hell'' by the people misfortunate enough to have witnessed the things flying in the sky. They apparently had nightmares for some time after that.

    Azcheron and Erin decided to wait until they cleared the many secrets of the Dragon tongue before trying to use ancient summoning magic again.

 17 - Imperial Capital V

    ¡°Yes, I''d say the Dragon tongue is among the top three of the most insufferable languages ever created. The less awful aspect of it would be the vocabulary. It''s still awful, do not be mistaken. Words sometimes have many different meanings. Colours can be used to talk about the great mechanics of the world. Yellow is the sun, but blue is both the night sky and the sea. The nuance is in the context. When there is one. I think dragons see more colours than us because they managed to write a few astrological treaties with only colour names. Unreadable, obviously. What does ''glimmering low green'' mean or look like, we will probably never know. Numbers work in the same fashion, though with a more unfathomable logic. Two can stand for eyes, ears or horns, four is a square or any cardinal direction. For now it''s... alright, for draconic standards. Then you have eleven, that can mean either toes or forest. What kind of creature has eleven toes and what kind of forest has only eleven trees, I still wonder to this day.

    -Anonymous depressed linguist¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    In the soft light of the torches and mana-stones illuminating the library in the wintery evening, there was only, for a time, the sound of books being opened and closed, and pages being turned.

    ¡°I can''t find it,¡± Azcheron muttered.

    He pushed away the book currently in front of him and opened another one.

    ¡°Can we leave now ? You''ve been at it for hours,¡± Erin complained.

    ¡°You can go ahead if you want.¡±

    He only got a groan as an answer.

    ¡°I haven''t looked through the books in other languages yet.¡±

    ¡°Ugh, we''re not doing that again. It''ll take you months anyway. Why don''t you ask him directly ?¡±

    ¡°I can''t do that ! I would have invested all those hours into searching through books for nothing !¡± he replied in an offended voice.

    She frowned. ¡°Your logic is awful.¡±

    Azcheron had been searching for any possible hints about a specific spell. He had witnessed it twice since he arrived at the Academy. Yet no book seemed to be able to give him any information.

    ¡°That damn illusion spell... I wasn''t surprised with Roharl using something like that, but the nightmare things ? That''s definitely a pre-constructed spell.¡±

    ¡°What if it turns out that Roharl was using only raw mana to make himself invisible ?¡±

    ¡°I thought about it, but regardless I need the chant first.¡±

    Azcheron had tried to imitate Roharl''s camouflage magic, to no avail. He did not expect it to be so complicated seeing as it only impacted the sight ¨C you could still be heard, touched or smelled. He had to quickly admit it though : even if it was possible, albeit incredibly difficult, to make yourself invisible as long as you didn''t move, it was another story when you tried to run around like Roharl did.

    It was also different from the illusion produced by the disgusting ear artefact. With Anton, they had tried to test the supposed invisibility it granted the user, but while in the Academy, nothing happened. Even the disorientation and drowsiness that the bandits were induced with was not present here. Azcheron could only gather that the ear-thing was something entirely different, that mainly had to do with forests or at least the mana from forests. Plus, the artefact''s effect seemed less potent than the true invisibility spell that he was looking for. Even bandits seemed to notice that something was wrong among the complicated landscape that is a forest, whereas Azcheron couldn''t manage to see Roharl or the bat-things, if the environment didn''t give them away.

    Either there was a trick Azcheron wasn''t aware of, or it was one of those unfathomable spells that he couldn''t explain or reproduce through raw mana alone. So he resolved to search through every single book concerning illusion magic. He started with the ones written in Common tongue because even if it was more likely for the spell to be found in some obscure ancient or foreign magic grimoire, it would take far too much time to translate everything. There was still a small chance that hints could be found within regular books, so Azcheron began his search with those.

    His venture didn''t bear fruit. He could have, as Erin suggested, asked Roharl, but the idea didn''t appeal to him. Firstly because there was no guarantee Roharl would just give away the secrets of his magic, and a refusal would be humiliating. Secondly because Azcheron felt he could either reproduce the spell himself, or find it by his own means. It was a pride thing, perhaps.

    The spell itself wasn''t that important. It provided a great advantage, sure, but as proven by the spar with the Dragon Slayer, said advantage could be diminished or even negated. Weather and environment were its main enemy ¨C if there was rain, snow, sand and whatnot, the spell would lose a good portion of its usefulness. But the opponent could also act in order to level the situation, as Azcheron did with smokescreens.

    No, what was important was the knowledge of the magic''s inner-working. It had major scientific implications. There was a handful of spells like that, that implied either highly advanced and convoluted scientific manipulation, or simply lost or forgotten knowledge. Summoning magic was among them.

    Despite his failure to find anything about invisibility magic, a few interesting things popped up while looking through the books pertaining to spells impacting the senses. For instance, Azcheron had read about sleep magic and its two distinct versions.

    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

    He already knew about some plants and smells that would induce slumber when inhaled, so it didn''t really surprise him to learn that you could create odour and gas-based sleep magic. He''d have to find a test subject to try it. The thought of using it on Erin when she was gesticulating too much in bed was enticing, but he would not dare to use untested and potentially dangerous magic on his bodyguard.

    Indeed, they had kept their sleeping habit inherited from the caravan trip. Anton''s house was very cold ¨C it was poorly isolated and the old bastard forbade that people lit the fireplaces because the wood was too pricy in winter, and the heat would not be contained anyway, or so he said ¨C and they came to cherish the feeling of safety it procured them when they slept side by side.

    Tania clearly had misunderstood the whole thing, Azcheron quickly realized. She winked when she showed him the room with the largest bed. Even someone like him wasn''t as dense as to not understand how it looked. When he told her about it, Erin had an amused expression. She had been living and eating and sleeping in the company of rough and unclean men when she was a mercenary, so she had long lost any ability to get flustered by little things like that.

    She pridefully defined herself as an ''anti-lady'', seeing as she was doing the exact opposite of what she was supposed to do as a Verald daughter.

    In any case, Azcheron wasn''t so rude as to use sleep magic on someone who trusted him to such a degree. He planned to try it on the next idiot who would challenge him to a duel or whatever other annoying stunt the Academy''s students seemed keen on pulling.

    Then, he read about chanted sleep magic. The author of the text, as if running for the prize of most obnoxious person in the world, not only decided to keep the chant to himself so that the reader couldn''t possibly learn it, but also tried ¨C tried being the keyword ¨C to give a lengthy explanation about the spell''s working.

    Normally, Azcheron would very much appreciate lengthy explanations, yet this one was perfectly unintelligible. There was no way to know whether the author wrote whatever word he''d invent by picking letters at random, or if he was actually talking about something that Azcheron couldn''t hope to understand.

    There was mention of histamine and adenosine and unfathomable words of the same fashion. Azcheron could grasp that the spell had something to do directly with the brain, but he did not know half of the vocabulary employed here.

    He sighed and looked through the window. Erin was right, it was already quite late, there was probably only a few hours left before midnight. The Academy would soon be almost deserted, the only remaining people would be the students living in the dormitories and a few others.

    ¡°Okay then. Let''s go back at Anton''s, I''m getting hungry.¡±

    ¡°Finally.¡± Erin closed the book she was reading with a clap. She had spent a lot of time studying anatomy and enchanting, also going to seminaries about these subjects and sometimes checking out the spellblade classes from afar.

    Azcheron had tried to teach her a bit of easy magic that would help her ¨C it turned out he was quite the able teacher, when it came to raw mana ¨C, and in exchange she taught him the basics of swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. But neither were particularly successful in their training. They felt much more comfortable with their respective fields.

    As they were putting back the ton of books that Azcheron had gathered, something apparently caught Erin''s attention.

    ¡°What''s this ? Are you putting your draconic translations in writing now ?¡±

    He came closer and frowned. ¡°Oh, yes, that... This thing looks even worse than the summoning magic. It''s a metamorphosis spell, supposedly.¡±

    ¡°Wh-... Eh !? What ! You could get famous with this !¡± She looked excited. True, metamorphosis magic was one of these rare and obscure magic that were actually popular. The issue was that there wasn''t any known spell that would let you choose your appearance. Every transformation spell, and they were few, had very peculiar and specific effects. It went from making your ears pointy, giving you the appearance of an elf, to changing your body size, skin colour, even growing limbs sometimes. Each of these spells were weird ones in the end.

    ¡°Yeah, I know, that''s why I''m rigorously translating it,¡± Azcheron said flatly.

    ¡°What did you find ? What does it do ? Younger appearance ? Smaller size ?¡±

    He looked sideways. ¡°Yeah, err... nothing that useful. I''m not sure it''s even useful at all. And I really, really, really don''t want to try this one out. Sure you want to know ? You''ll be disappointed.¡±

    ¡°Huh... Tell me anyway. I''m curious. You never know what to expect with this language.¡±

    ¡°Well I kinda know what I can expect and that''s why I''m not keen on trying it. It''s... a... huh... you see ? I don''t even have the equivalent word in Common.¡±

    Azcheron tried to mime the thing. It was not working, seeing Erin''s expression.

    ¡°Why... don''t you describe it with words instead of demonstrating your ridicule ? Because that''s all you''re doing.¡±

    ¡°Mnnngh, I don''t know ! It''s a hairy thing with several pairs of eyes and ears, and horns on its torso ! And it doesn''t even mention if it has limbs !¡±

    Erin grimaced. ¡°Hairy, again. Sounds like it''ll definitely be popular.¡±

    ¡°Want to try it on yourself ?¡± Azcheron asked with his best smile.

    ¡°Hahaha !¡± She tried to fake a laugh. ¡°Whatever could have possibly made you think I was interested in petty metamorphosis magic ? Hohoho !¡±

    Now she was hiding her smiling mouth with her hand like a proper embarrassed noblewoman would. But it looked vicious and evil when she was doing it.

    ¡°In any case it looks like it is another detestable draconic magic. Moreover this spell seems to have a list very annoying conditions and side-effects. Part of why I''m taking notes. It says that the duration is of a hundred heartbeats, that the vocal cords aren''t working with any known spoken languages, and things of the sort. I don''t know what''s the deal with these spells but their creators must have been shunned by society. I do not see why else they would invent such obnoxious magic.¡±

    ¡°I can easily see you in thirty years, doing a similar thing. I wonder why,¡± Erin mocked.

    Azcheron scowled. ¡°Hrmpf. My spells would be elegant and user-friendly. I don''t want to be known for some creepy magic that''d turn you into a stool or something.¡±

    ¡°Though you could become a spy or an assassin with a spell like that.¡±

    He froze and kept silent. He must have been making a strange face because Erin pinched the bridge of her nose when she looked at him. ¡°Please don''t spend the next month trying to find or create that kind of spell. This''ll be nerve-wrecking.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I know. Don''t worry. I just realized how cool it would be. Maybe I should drop this whole invisibility thing altogether and dedicate myself to... stool magic ?¡± he said, only half-joking.

    ¡°Hah... Okay, I think we''re done here,¡± she said after glancing around. They had put away every book they could find on the large table. ¡°Let''s leave and eat.¡±

    He nodded and they left the library. As they wordlessly walked side by side in the silent and snow-covered main garden of the Academy, Azcheron noticed that the air wasn''t as cold as he expected.

    The harsher part of the winter was behind them, now. It had been almost three moons since they came to the capital, after all. The second month of the new year had ended, and Azcheron would soon attend an important reception.

    Anton had put a lot of efforts in gathering nobles to officially introduce the Saint to the Imperial aristocracy. Azcheron had been preparing himself for the event, and would certainly not let Anton''s ventures go to waste.

    He grinned, as he knew would have to make an impression worthy of the Saint.

 18 - Imperial Capital VI

    ¡°So you want to know how to kill a dragon ? It''s easy, there are three steps :

    First, find a dragon !

    Then, kill it !

    Finally, get famous !

    Get it ? No ? You imbeciles ! That''s why I can''t stand teaching snotty-nosed brats.

    -Roharl giving a lesson on dragon-slaying to first year students¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°An expedition to the Desolate Lands, you say...¡±

    Anton was sitting in the armchair of his office in the Academy, pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning. The dim light of the morning sun casted a ghostly glow in the office through the thick, opaque glass window. There was one windowpane that looked different from the others, probably a new one.

    Anton didn''t seem extremely pleased by what had just came out of the mouth of a grinning Azcheron.

    ¡°Is that the only reason you want to meet a Dragon tongue specialist ?¡±

    Of course not ! But there''s no way I''m confessing all my crimes in advance ! This one is plenty enough.

    ¡°Of course, why else ?¡±

    ¡°Mnngh... I know that one guy, his office is in the easternmost tower. A linguist with loose ethics who wouldn''t mind helping you dig your own grave by giving you what you want.¡±

    ¡°You have my thanks. I do know it is a dangerous project, thus my trying to minimize the risk. I''ve already had a blunder with the Dragon tongue so I''ll be careful this time.¡±

    ¡°Indeed, you might want to learn as much as you can about the speech of dragons if you''re planning on crossing the western mountains...¡±

    Anton''s eyes squinted briefly, as if a sudden realization just hit him.

    ¡°Hmm ? What''s this blunder you speak of, by the way ?¡± He looked like he was rapidly growing suspicious of Azcheron.

    Crap. Quick, think of something.

    ¡°EH ? Well ! You know how mother tried to learn the language ? I tried as well, but I failed, it surely is a difficult language, hahaha !¡±

    ¡°...You wouldn''t happen to know about that strange incident that occurred a little more than a month ago, by any chance ?¡± Anton had an expression that said he didn''t really need to ask, and already decided on the answer on his own.

    ¡°Whatever do you mean ?¡± Azcheron asked as innocently as he could, but realized it was so incongruous coming from him that he just had doomed himself. Anton rose and burst out in anger.

    ¡°YOU ! IT WAS YOU !!! I KNEW IT ! Those damn things from hell ! What the heck were you thinking, trying out forgotten summoning magic IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ACADEMY ! One of these nightmares BROKE my window and came FLYING in my office ! I almost died of shock ! I had bad dreams for two weeks ! CURSE YOU !¡±

    Azcheron remained silent. There was no denying it now. He had not been worried about the consequences of the summoning seeing as he had confirmed that the creatures obeyed him, as long as he could manage a proper order. But he failed to consider the mental scars the incident could leave on the minds of the young and elderly.

    So that''s why he kept waking up and yelping and making noises at night ?

    Those evil-looking bat-things certainly were nightmare fuel, he had to admit.

    Anton finally calmed down and carried on in an irritated voice. ¡°I knew it. I knew it. Who else would dabble in obscure draconic summonings ? You''d have to possess both an amazing mind to decipher this damn language, and a fairly twisted soul to experiment with it in the middle of the capital. That could be only you. I knew it.¡±

    ¡°I''m truly regretful of my actions.¡± Azcheron tried to appear as regretful and repenting as he could. Judging by Anton''s scornful glare, it wasn''t working as intended.

    ¡°How the hell did you manage to learn that crappy language in such a short time anyway ? Were you planning to go west from the beginning ?¡±

    ¡°Ah, don''t misunderstand. I can barely read and speak it even with a lexicon at hand. I''ve been meaning to try it since mother told me it had analogies with the Rahal speech.¡±

    Upon hearing this, Anton''s expression harboured a faint change. Azcheron could guess what were the questions that popped up in the old man''s mind. Surely, his mother had also shared her findings with him when she accompanied him to the capital...

    There would be no need to elaborate on this subject yet, since Anton seemingly casted aside whatever thought he had concerning Azcheron''s mention of his mother, to carry on about the more immediate matter.

    ¡°Well, I sincerely hope you won''t have to use it. If you''re lucky enough, you won''t encounter any dragon while crossing the mountain range.¡±

    Would that be lucky for me ? I don''t know. I wouldn''t be lying if I said the point actually was to encounter dragons. They may have answers after all, seeing how old they are.

    ¡°Surely you are right. Well then, I''ll take my leave and see that linguist you spoke of, before he goes off somewhere for his lunch break.¡±

    ¡°Come back when you have time later in the day, I need fill you in about this week''s reception.¡±

    Azcheron nodded and exited the office, then set toward the easternmost tower of the Academy.

    * * *

    Irony, such an interesting thing. It turned out that the linguist was the old moustached professor that Azcheron and Erin had assaulted when they were searching for Anton''s address. Assaulted, yes, that was how the old man had apparently perceived the event. He had felt very much offended when they delayed his departure from the Academy, as he was at the time impatient to have his dinner.

    Needless to say, the situation here was largely similar. How unfortunate it must have been for the old professor to be halted in his decision to eat lunch, by the same person who previously hindered him. There were shouts and insults in place of greetings.

    Had Azcheron nothing to lose, he would have laughed openly. But he had to play it smoothly with the angered scholar if he intended to ask for his help.

    Oddly enough, the man''s behaviour changed to a more pleasant and indulging one as soon as he heard that Azcheron meant to journey through the dragon-inhabited mountains and the Desolate Lands. He became suddenly eager to give the blonde youth all the tools he needed to start his dangerous expedition as soon as possible.

    It couldn''t be that the respectable professor wished for the Saint to quickly depart for a location where he had high chances to meet his demise, could it ?

    As ill-intentioned the man might have been, he still did a proper job in aiding Azcheron and answering his questions. The guy was, after all, an expert in his field of research, and it seemed that he''d rather show off his knowledge with precision and exactitude, instead of giving false info like a petty man.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    The Saint wanted to know anything that may prove useful in meeting ¨C and surviving the act of meeting ¨C with dragons. That involved a lot of talking, more than anything else. No one could really hope to win a battle with a dragon, with the exception of Roharl.

    Just in case, Azcheron had also asked the Dragon Slayer for some advice, were he to actually fight one of these creatures. He had expected the hero to keep silent about his methods, or to act like a fool and say something like ''cast spells until they die!'', but surprisingly he gave him interesting insight. It wasn''t much, but it could perhaps save his and Erin''s life, at least. Of course, he had not yet told Erin about his plans, nor about the fact that she was included in said plans.

    But the priority wasn''t to learn how to kill a dragon, it was to know how to negotiate and converse with them. Because Azcheron had many, many things he would dearly like to discuss with the mythical beings that lived for millenniums.

    The moustached professor ¨C Azcheron still didn''t know his name, but at this point he didn''t care ¨C proved to be extremely knowledgable about dragons and their culture. The Saint came for pointers on polite and respectful speech in Dragon tongue, and left with a list of important facts regarding draconic etiquette, lifestyle and whatnot.

    Truly a wise decision on my part. Well, learning things from an old grumpy man who supposedly hate me might not be that wise ? That guy better not have purposely fed me erroneous knowledge that would get me instantaneously killed !

    As he exited the east tower and pondered on the things he had learned, he set off to find Erin. Convincing her would be the hard part. It was not far from being a suicide mission, after all. Whether the journey across the mountains passed with or without incident, Azcheron had resolved to check out the Desolate Lands.

    He came to this decision recently. While reading documents in both Common and Dragon tongue, and asking Anton for information, he realized very little was known about the Desolate Lands. In other words, it meant that the smallest discovery could be extremely valuable. The few people who were brave enough to visit this barren desert did so because it could quickly bring them fame and glory. Most didn''t come back, though. Everybody knew that the golems wandering the land were not particularly friendly to foreigners, and that the land itself was clearly not hospitable.

    So, obviously, Azcheron intended to go there and come back with something interesting, whatever that meant. He needed the fame that would come with it. Fame was essential. The plan was as simple as that in his mind. The preparations, on the other hand, were troublesome. Lots of convincing, lots of information-gathering.

    The first person he had to coerce into his expedition was, indeed, Erin, so he went to look for her while eating some dried meat. Wandering in the Academy, he figured she might be around the training grounds since it was time for the spellblade lesson.

    If one just arrived at the Academy and wondered where Karlos'' class was taking place, he would merely have to follow back the trail of injured students crawling toward the infirmary. As he would get closer, the attentive listener could hear to sounds of bones being broken by a wooden sword. Truly, the Academy''s infirmary staff had to be comprised of talented healing arts users. Hopefully for them, they were given a bonus for their hard work on each day Karlos had lessons. Which would be... everyday. Night, sometimes.

    Azcheron crossed the garden, walked into a covered passageway, and arrived at the large and muddy open area that were the training grounds. He stopped to look around, his eyes passing on the unconscious bodies laying in some places, and the small crowd of student waiting restlessly for their turn to join their slumbering comrades. He noticed Darius among the group of still conscious people, nervously trying to practise casting some enchantment on his weapon before facing the dreaded master Karlos in a ''pedagogic spar''.

    According to Erin, the students had finally started to use spellblading and enchantment during actual fighting. Their swordsmanship wasn''t really noticeable yet, but they tried, at least. Azcheron spotted Erin sitting on the amphitheatre''s steps, watching the lesson from afar. He walked toward her and waved. She saw him approaching and flashed a smile.

    ¡°Having fun watching people getting smashed by the bald sadist ?¡± he inquired, pointing behind him with his thumb.

    ¡°Hey, it''s highly educational. You''ll be glad to know that Karlos seems very informed about which and how many bones can be broken without hindering sword practise. He has elevated punishment to an art form.¡±

    ¡°Very glad to know that, I am indeed.¡± They both grimaced as they saw one of Darius'' friends, the one with the fuzz, getting heavily smacked on the elbow. It made a disgusting noise that could be heard all the way from here, but surprisingly the victim didn''t scream.

    ¡°So, how did it go with Anton ?¡± she finally asked.

    ¡°I got what I wanted. Remember the old teacher we talked to back when we arrived at the capital ? He taught me a few interesting things about dragons.¡± He paused and looked at the training grounds again. ¡°We''re busted, by the way. Anton knows about the summoning.¡±

    Erin frowned. ¡°What did he say ?¡±

    ¡°He was angry. He doesn''t know about you being there at the time, I think. Yet. Should I tell him ?¡± he joked.

    ¡°Don''t ! He still believes I''m a respectable person for now.¡±

    They both chuckled then kept silent for a while, watching as Darius'' turn came up. After he got tossed away like a rag doll, Erin continued in a more serious tone.

    ¡°You said ''dragons'', not ''Dragon tongue''. Are you planning what I''m thinking ?¡±

    ¡°That''s why I''m here.¡± He was talking about him being in the Academy, but wasn''t sure if she understood. ¡°I won''t beat around the bush. I''m going to the Desolate Lands when winter ends.¡±

    Erin was obviously shocked but promptly composed herself. ¡°And I''m assuming you''ll go through the mountains ? Planning to meet and fight dragons ? I don''t need to tell you how dangerous it is. And I''m sure you already know about what lays further west.¡±

    ¡°I''m preparing thoroughly. I''m not messing around. I know it does not sound credible when I say it, but that''s the truth. This is important for me.¡±

    ¡°Because it''s a quick way to get famous ? It''s also an unnecessarily convoluted method if you want to commit suicide,¡± she said disapprovingly.

    I know that won''t be enough to convince you, but well, here goes nothing.

    ¡°Yes. And I''d like to ask you to accompany me. You''re my bodyguard after all !¡± He tried to lighten up the mood a bit, but they both were serious underneath.

    Erin casted her eyes toward the training grounds, thinking while blankly watching the students. The lesson was almost over, since soon there would be no one left standing.

    After a minute or two, she looked straight in Azcheron''s eyes.

    ¡°I know you just wouldn''t ask me to come with you and throw away my life in a deserted crap-hole for no reason. That''s what I want to believe, at least.¡±

    She kept staring at him, waiting for him to speak.

    Azcheron had no choice. He didn''t want to betray Erin''s trust by giving some random lie this time. Because this was not one of his usual plots, where he''d fool around. It was his cause, in a way. And she was asking him to tell her about this cause, she was asking for a reason that would be worth such a risky adventure. She wanted to know what she would be endangering her life for. She was trusting him, and he didn''t want to disappoint her.

    And he wasn''t confident he could actually manage without her. In a place without mana in the atmosphere to draw in, he''d be relying on his own mana pool, and her skills would prove more vital than ever.

    No, if he had to be honest, it was something else. Maybe he didn''t want to go there alone. Maybe he wanted her to come, not because she could protect him, but because she was his friend.

    Maybe he didn''t want to leave the Academy without her, separating without knowing if he''d survive and if they''d see each other again.

    I''ll have to tell her one day anyway if we''re planning to stay together. I might as well not wait until the very last moment, and explain her my goals right now. I know I can probably trust her with that, and it''ll be relieving to have someone I can confide in...

    He took a deep breath, and told Erin his intentions.

    ¡°I... will try to explain it, in a simple manner. Why I came to the Academy. Why I''m learning the Dragon tongue. Why I want to make myself known. Why I want to meet dragons. Not to fight them, but to ask them something.¡±

    Erin nodded, and Azcheron kept on talking, taking pauses to put his thoughts in order when it was necessary. It was an heavy and important matter to him, and he had not spoken about it to anyone except his mother, and that was some time ago. So he tried to make it clear and concise for Erin.

    ¡°I want to know about my clan, about the Rahal clan''s origins. I want to finish what my mother started before she passed away.

    It began when she first went to the continent, and specifically the Academy. She noticed things. Just things, unrelated details, or she believed so at first. How our clan''s customs seemed archaic, yet were undeniably similar to the Empire''s. How our clothes looked like the ones drawn and described in history books, how our speech and manners felt sometimes old and out of place. How our magical potential was greater than the majority of people. How parts of our dialect were similar to the Dragon tongue, which hadn''t been spoken by most humans for centuries.

    Then she died, but before that I had to become the Saint, so I couldn''t leave the island like her. She was only able to do so because I was given her position when I was seven, anyway.

    Things happened recently, we decided to change our ways, and I left the island with Anton.

    So I finally had the opportunity to see the world for myself. And to see what my mother told me about. I came here, tried to study that language. Tried to look for some hints in books and encyclopedias and diaries.

    It''s not very successful, I have to admit. It''ll take me years to check the whole library. All I''ve learned for now is that if anyone could provide me with answers, it would be the dragons. They''re old, so old that some are regarded as immortal, and they''re knowledgable. They''re bound to know something.

    So I''ll go to the mountains, and if I''m lucky enough to encounter one of them, I''ll do my best to squeeze everything I can out of him. Then I''ll go further west. For all I know, there could be something to learn there, too. But the main idea is to gain fame. Because with fame, I''ll have authority and credibility. This... will be important for what could come next.¡±

    He stopped for a while to let Erin think about what he told her. When she signalled for him to continue, he complied.

    ¡°What will follow is... something I don''t know yet !¡± he said in a now more jovial manner. ¡°But I want to be ready when I learn the truth, in case it''s something big. Whether my clan is the result of a dirty secret buried by the Empire or something mundane like explorers getting lost at sea and founding a village on an isolated island, I want to be able to claim it proudly. Hell, wouldn''t it be damn amazing if we turned out to be half-breed descendants of dragons or something ?¡±

    Azcheron had that prideful smile. The Rahal''s characteristic smile.

    He looked at the training grounds that were presently empty. The pedagogic knocking out had ended. The bodies had been dragged away, probably to the now sure to be cramped infirmary.

    Erin, who had been staying silent for some time, spoke in a low, soft voice.

    ¡°Alright.¡±

    Azcheron turned back to her. ¡°Hm ?¡±

    ¡°Alright, I''ll come with you.¡±

    He smiled to himself.

    Thank you. Thank you. Erin, thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.

    ¡°Of course you will. I''m sure you also want to know the truth, now that I confessed to you the greatest synopsis of all times. A quest for truth ! Against the empires, through the ages, and beyond the skies ! This''ll prove to be a damn good story.¡± He said confidently.

    She grinned, and he knew that he was right. He was right to trust her. He was right to choose her.

    She was the right heroine for his story, after all.

 19 - Imperial Capital VII

    ¡°The Empire''s servant system is renowned for being peculiar. There is a very deeply rooted taste for complex hierarchy in the Imperial nobility, and this tendency reverberates on the servant vocation. Lots of different ranks. On the lowest echelon, you have the regular maids and butlers. Those, you can find in every noble house, in every kingdom. Then come the First Class maids and butlers. They take care of first class matters, whatever that means. Next, a rank called a High servant. High maids and High butlers are something akin to very skilled and elite subordinates. If your idiot son is a energetic, whiny angry brat, you should let the High servants take care of him. From here on it''s mainly manager-like jobs. Section-chief butler, Executive maid, Chief of staff maid, Senior counsellor butler, Head-butler... No one really knows who does what. Not even the people paying them. We''re not sure the servants themselves understand much about their roles at this point.

    -Third section''s human resources managing department executive president-butler¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°Have you got everything planned out ?¡±

    ¡°I believe so. I was a bit surprised when Anton informed me of the last-minute details, but it should be fine. I''ve taken into account the random things that could occur, like unexpected people attending, or a sudden assassination attempt. My plan can still go the way I intended even with that.¡±

    Erin and Azcheron were making sure that they were prepared for the reception. Now that she was aware of Azcheron''s plans, she could give him her insight. Of course, Erin would not dare to change too much of what her friend had already decided. It was still his own business before everything else, and she didn''t find much to criticize anyway.

    That was because she actually did like the daring and unpredictable ways of Azcheron. It felt like she would be able to witness something grand happening, without exactly being sure how it would turn out. Azcheron''s schemes and plans were often revolving around conjectures, assumptions, and mostly, very random events and dangerous ventures, and that probably played an important role in giving a feeling of uncertainty and suspense to the everyday life by his side.

    ¡°Does Anton know the full story, by the way ? He is somehow involved in your mess, after all.¡±

    ¡°I think he has his own suspicions. My mother may have told him something, but I don''t intend to speak to him about that yet. He has enough to deal with for the moment, and he will surely lose too much sleep over it if I tell him now.¡±

    ¡°So you do know how much of a stressful existence you are to him. You''re lucky to have him as a friend, you know.¡±

    He just chuckled and shrugged. The irony was that Azcheron was once again going to cause him trouble in the immediate future. Well, even right now, he was doing that. Poor Anton would have no time to worry about the search for the Rahal clan''s origins.

    She was glad that he finally chose to speak about himself. She didn''t try to pry about his past and his goals because when they came to meet Anton the first night, he had admitted to seek fame and glory. That may or may not have looked like a lie or an excuse or whatever else, but Erin didn''t inquire at the time.

    That was before he basically requested of her that she risked her life for him on a seemingly meaningless and suicidal trip. So, that time, she asked. And she was given an answer. An answer she could appreciate, in fact. She even accepted his request almost on the spot. That was a week ago, and she had time to think about it with a cool head. Yet her decision didn''t change.

    The reason wasn''t clear. She''d say it was a large mesh of many things. Curiosity, excitement, compassion, maybe a bit of pity. Fear of loneliness ? Affection, perhaps.

    Whatever, she finally concluded. Erin liked to think, not to overthink. For now, it did not matter why exactly she wanted to join Azcheron in his quest for truth. It mattered to her, however, that she now had a clear and defined goal. Not that she had just been aimlessly running away from her family and following around Azcheron until now, but she would not be lying if she said that previously, it felt like she merely went with the flow of things.

    So here she was, taking part in Azcheron''s plot, this time in full awareness and by her own volition. They were about to enter the enormous Farril mansion located around the centre of the capital. The manors in this city were nothing like those in the countryside. Once again as per the peculiar customs of the Empire, they were called mansions without really being mansions, but nobody seemed to care.

    There wasn''t much place for disproportioned gardens and the usual flashy show of wealth that was characteristic of the nobility. Instead, the mansions here were built very tall rather than very large. If you were a noble living in the capital, you had to like stairs.

    ¡°Still, I didn''t expect that it would take place at the Farril estate. I guess I really did catch their attention.¡± Azcheron scratched his chin as he looked up and observed the huge building. Erin did the same.

    It was maybe seven or eight stories high, and the architecture was in the imperial standard''s margin. Marble and polished stones of light and cold tones and colours, mostly white, beige and grey. A few decorations carved and sculpted into the stone, mainly under the balconies and around the windows. You couldn''t see the roof from down here but Erin knew that it was pointy and made of slate tile, like every building in the capital.

    Yes, the nobles'' mansions all looked like every other house here, they were just taller. The Imperial Palace aside, the only oddity in the entire city might be the Academy with its dark grey and black materials and castle-like design.

    ¡°I''m fine with the reception being held anywhere as long as it''s not at my family''s mansion,¡± she said.

    Initially, Erin had not planned to come to the party, seeing as this was an event that wasn''t really concerning her, but Azcheron had managed to convince her during the week. According to him, their association must have been known to many by now, so Erin should not mind bringing attention to him because of her name anymore.

    More like, Azcheron insisted that she came and did nothing to hide her name. He craved for the attention. In the same fashion, he came purposely late to the event, despite having promised to Anton that he''d be there on time for the banquet dinner. The poor old mage was probably already inside, biting his nails while cursing the young Saint and making awkward apologies to the other guests.

    Having finished judging the manor, Azcheron spoke.

    ¡°Are you ready ?¡±

    ¡°All good.¡±

    ¡°Remember, I need you to look especially stylish in tonight''s reception.¡±

    She nodded.

    Azcheron therefore led the march, followed by Erin, and opened the door with a brutal push. However the entrance hall was disappointingly empty, except for a maid who yelped in surprise.

    The two ''intruders'' stood there for a moment, during which the maid left, to come back shortly after with a horde of servants. The maids and butlers entered a staring contest with Azcheron, until one of them, probably the head-butler, carved through the crowd and cleared his throat.

    ¡°Lord Azcheron, I presume ?¡±

    ¡°Indeed !¡± he answered in an arrogant voice.

    ¡°... It is an immense pleasure to welcome a guest such as you. Without any further delay, lord Azcheron, it might be wise for us to be on our way to the reception hall. Your... fashionable tardiness might not suit the taste of the other guests.¡±

    ¡°Very well ! We shall do so.¡±

    The butler briefly looked at Erin. ¡°Lord Azcheron, if I may inquire about the lady accompanying you ? We were not warned that you would be bringing company.¡±

    Azcheron also glanced at said company, nodded, and the smile appeared on his face. He then spoke in that loud mana-enhanced voice.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°FOOLS ! Have you no eyes ? Bow all before lady Erin of house Verald !¡±

    Ugh, I knew he wouldn''t let that pass. The bastard is enjoying this.

    Erin was even more horrified as every single servant in the hall complied. Azcheron then turned toward her, took a solemn expression and tone, and lowered his head like a butler. ¡°This way, milady.¡±

    Shut up ! You don''t even know the way !

    She kept her composure nonetheless, as she had promised him that she would be the most stylish person of the evening. Chin up, stern look, and an overall posture of arrogance, yes, that should do the trick. She''d be copying Azcheron, basically.

    The head-butler was very professional and quickly regained his aplomb, realizing that Azcheron was that kind of guest.

    ¡°Lady Verald, lord Azcheron, if you''d be so kind as to follow me, I shall show you to the reception hall.¡±

    Erin could once again witness the look of reverence and fear in some of the servants upon hearing her name proclaimed, especially now that she was playing the role of the proud lady Verald, but tried to pay it no mind and followed behind the steps of Azcheron and the butler.

    As they walked the richly decorated corridors and stairs of the manor, Azcheron addressed the butler.

    ¡°May I ask for your name ?¡±

    ¡°It is Gabriel, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Hm. I see. Gabriel. I would ask a favour of you.¡±

    ¡°I cannot promise anything, but I will gladly oblige if it is in my power to do so.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I believe it is. I take it you are required to introduce me in a specific manner, when we arrive to the reception room ?¡± He waited for Gabriel to confirm. ¡°Then, please forget about it, and listen to me instead.¡±

    As Azcheron detailed his request to Gabriel, Erin saw his professional, emotionless face crumbling ever so slightly.

    * * *

    Anton

    Anton could have sworn that he heard it. That sound.

    Yes, it was that sound. The irritating noise of someone shouting with sound magic. Surely something had happened in the lower floors, but no one would check, because there was no need to do so. Soon enough, the cause would find its way up here, Anton thought.

    He waited, yet nothing happened. Was it his imagination ? Maybe. Maybe the last guest had still not arrived.

    Anton was getting increasingly worried and angry with each second passing. Azcheron had promised that he would show himself on time, and in turn the scholar had guaranteed the same to the other guests.

    Now everyone was gathered in the reception hall, awkwardly talking to each other while passing time and trying to figure out if they had misheard or misunderstood something since the main guest was not here yet. There were musicians, but they weren''t playing anything. They had been told to wait for the reception to officially start.

    The Farril house had insisted that they would hold the event at their estate, although many others were equally eager to apply for the honour since rumours of Azcheron and Roharl sparring had started to circulate.

    But the Farril suggested that they could host the reception even before the rumours came to be. It was as if Roharl had a hand in it. It was a possibility.

    Speak of the devil, our dear Dragon Slayer invited himself to our little party. As if things weren''t spicy enough with Azcheron''s personality.

    As much as Anton could speculate on possible added chaos that Roharl could cause, the Dragon Slayer had not made himself too noticeable as of now. He was only sitting in an armchair, eating at his convenience as he pillaged the banquet table.

    He didn''t know enough about Roharl and his relationship with his family to know if he had to expect trouble anyway. Very few were those who knew of Roharl''s name, and even fewer must have been those who knew the secret behind it. Anton was not among the latter. It was probably limited to the Farril family.

    Well, Roharl isn''t the only one that might prove problematic.

    There were some very important people here. Such as the current Farril patriarch, who was in charge of the trade ministry. Or the countess Ravilna, daughter from one of the four great houses. Or the headmaster of the Academy, Hector Talir. Among the thirty-odd people present, they were surely the ones you had to be the most wary of.

    They were not exactly troublesome per-se (they were rather reasonable people when compared to Roharl or Azcheron), but they held so much power that you might as well deal with them as if they were trouble incarnate were you to make the slightest mistake.

    Hence Anton''s dread at Azcheron''s lateness.

    A butler entered the room and went to speak with the musicians. Maybe they were being sent away ? The Farril must have decided that the banquet was a failure.

    If Anton had ever felt remorse and guilt by inviting Azcheron to this wolf-filled reception, it was in the past. Now he just hoped that the damn brat would come and make a commotion. Loud enough so that all the resentment in the room casted upon himself would be redirected toward Azcheron, until the end of time.

    While sipping his wine with a nervous expression, Anton watched the butler walking back through the hall and slowing down when he arrived next to the double-panelled door. He took a long look around and exited the room.

    What is happening ? Are they going to ask everyone to leave ? ...Hmm ?

    Anton suddenly had a strange feeling. He couldn''t put his finger on what it was, yet he undoubtedly knew what was the cause. As if confirming his suspicions, he saw a few other people turning their head toward the doors.

    People like Roharl and Hector Talir. In other words, mages.

    Yes, that feeling was mana being manipulated by someone. Magic was about to be used. What was that, ill-intentioned uninvited guests ? No, who was he kidding ? The butler''s brief appearance gave up the answer. There was only one person who''d use magic in a noble''s manor without warning anybody, apart from an assassin. Anton smiled faintly.

    Just in case, he stepped further away from the entrance. Just in case.

    As he was trying to act ignorant, roaming around the banquet table and grabbing food, the door exploded. Then everyone became silent.

    Immediately after, there was a breeze and the lights went out. The candlesticks had been put out. Wind magic ?

    In the dark and the smoke, an light suddenly came from the entrance, casting a ghostly glow through the dust cloud. From the light, the voice came.

    ¡°GREETINGS, AND WELCOME ! I, AZCHERON, HAVE GATHERED ALL OF YOU FOR THIS SPECIAL OCCASION ! REJOICE, FOR IT IS YOUR HONOUR TO HAVE ME AS YOUR ESTEEMED HOST !¡±

    In a theatrical manner, the light coming from the smoke dimmed, said smoke instantaneously cleared as a small whirlwind was created, and the candlesticks were lit again.

    You''re not the damn host, you brat ! We''re in the Farril mansion, you know that !

    Azcheron could now be seen, standing in front of the still fuming blasted entrance, arms folded, chin raised, a fierce look glancing over the room, softening from time to time as he seemed to notice a few familiar faces.

    The youth wasn''t wearing the formal attire that Anton gave him. Of course he would come dressed in his traditional coloured clothing, Anton should have known. He was the proud Saint, after all. At least he had taken off his feathered coat. That thing looked old and worn out, and almost intimidating with its black feathers.

    After staring at each and every individual present in the reception hall, Azcheron spread his arms and carried on in a still loud but less aggressive manner.

    ¡°I COMMEND YOU FOR ANSWERING MY INVITATION ! YOU MAY COME FORTH AND INTRODUCE YOURSELVES LATER ! ON THIS NOTE, ENJOY THE RECEPTION !¡±

    As he clapped his hands, music suddenly began to play from the other side of the room. People started to whisper, before a thunderous laugh could be heard. It was Roharl, who else ? Shortly thereafter, the important players of the event, not losing face for a second, started to chat and eat and laugh too, and people followed. The reception would start, albeit in an unconventional fashion.

    Anton turned back toward Azcheron, who was now also looking in his direction. He looked proud and satisfied of his stunt, and it was as if he was waiting for Anton to approve and compliment his entrance. A few steps behind was Erin in her elegant knight attire, with an amused expression, arms crossed. She was standing with her back against a relatively intact portion of the wall. She had a somewhat arrogant aura.

    When did she pick up his behaviour ?! Why does she look like she''s having fun ! Azcheron, did you corrupt her ?

    Well, Anton wasn''t that surprised. In these last months at the academy she had spent even more time than Anton in the company of the poison itself, Azcheron, so it would have been strange if she was still perturbed by things like that by now.

    He walked toward them with the intention to scold them, but he couldn''t find anything to say. Surely everyone had forgotten about Anton''s blunder now, so in a way he was saved by Azcheron.

    ¡°Well, I don''t know why I even expected a normal arrival from you. You could have told me you''d be late, though.¡±

    ¡°Hahaha ! What are you saying, Anton ! Of course I wouldn''t tell you.¡±

    It looked like he would keep on speaking, but he didn''t, and there was an awkward silence. Yeah, what are YOU saying ! You''re supposed to justify yourself now ! Don''t stop in the middle of an explanation.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± he finally said, turning to the butler Anton saw before. ¡°Thank you for your cooperation, Gabriel. The entrance was a success.¡±

    It was obvious now that the butler was an accomplice. Getting the musicians ready, checking that nobody would be blasted along with the doors and whatnot.

    ¡°It was my... honour. But please do not proclaim from the rooftops that I took part in it. I would appreciate not losing my employ.¡±

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°Indeed, indeed. A proper reward. I shall keep silent about that.¡± He then addressed Anton once again. ¡°Come, friend. Let us eat and drink, and get me introduced more intimately to these people. They don''t seem keen on coming to see me. I''m afraid I might have scared them off.¡±

    No wonder. It was their first time, after all. When Azcheron greets you the first time, it always feels like he''s about to attack or behead you. Sometimes he is.

 20 - Imperial Capital VIII

    ¡°Oh, yeah, that''s not all. The nobility''s servants are only the tip of the iceberg. The palace''s servants are the real deal. Imperial butter-spreaders, Special-ops butlers, Bath-overseers, Magic-maids, whatever. You should just know that if they are tons of different types of regular servants in the nobles'' houses, there isn''t a single normal servant in the palace. Whether they have an Imperial diploma in sewing or a training in magical assassination, you can be sure they''re all extraordinary individuals. Ironically, the people they''re serving don''t even have a tenth of their talents and skills.

    -Third section''s human resources managing department executive president-butler¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron couldn''t help wearing a nasty grin while he was greeting and discussing with the nobles. They had made such interesting faces back then, and now they were trying their best to look serious and proper in front of him. But Azcheron knew, yes, he knew their inner nature now. He knew what he could expect from them, who he could convince, who he should be wary of. For he had seen everyone when he entered.

    Those who made surprised faces.

    Those who made frightened faces.

    Those who made amused faces.

    Those who made disdainful faces.

    Those who made merry faces. Well, there was only one, that was Roharl.

    What is he doing here anyway ? Azcheron wondered. Did Anton deem not important to notice him of such a thing ? Azcheron was Roharl''s rival after all. Sort of ? Not his disciple, at least. Certainly not. What''s with these rumours of me being his disciple...

    He was also surprised to see Darius Farril in the room. He should have been expecting it, in fact, seeing as he was basically in Darius'' house, but still. Strangely enough, Azcheron felt like Darius would be one of his rare allies in that room. The man seemed good natured and honest, and managed to be modest and respectful even though he came from such a powerful family. He certainly had his own secrets and everything, but then again who didn''t ? Also, Darius seemed to somewhat respect ¨C or like ? ¨C Erin, which would prove useful in dragging him into Azcheron''s plo-... side. He meant convincing Darius to join his side. Of course. You should never drag potential allies into your plots, no, that was a rude thing to do.

    Well, he did that with Erin and it still worked out well ! Maybe she was an oddball ? Azcheron didn''t mind. He knew she wasn''t an idiot, far from it in fact. Surely she had her own reasons for tagging along with him. Better have a smart ally who kept secrets than a stupid one who blurted everything given the chance.

    Speaking of allies, his quest to find some here was turning to be somehow successful. He had managed to draw the interest of the Farril''s patriarch, at least. The fact that Roharl and Darius were in good dispositions towards Azcheron probably played a part.

    He only had a few words with the Farril head. The man was the host of the event, and even if Azcheron was the star of the evening, even he couldn''t monopolize such an important noble. Not that the Saint wanted to monopolize a nobleman. Why would he do that ! It''s not like he wanted to make friends here. They were only good for connections, notoriety and support. The longer someone would spend with Azcheron, the greater the likelihood they''d end up hating him, actually. So it was to his advantage.

    Support, that''s what he came to gain here. Connections and notoriety were boons, but tonight the main goal was support. Seeing as lord Farril wasn''t inclined to talk now, he''d have to try with the two other important figures present tonight. He''d first try to find support with the countess Ravilna.

    ¡°Countess, may I introduce you to our esteemed guest ?¡± Anton inquired after the two of them had approached her.

    ¡°Introduce, you say...¡± She had a playful smile that she barely tried to hide behind a paper fan. ¡°I believe our young guest has already introduced himself, in a remarkable fashion, but...¡±

    Azcheron knew he had his chances with her, because he saw her. He saw the look of amusement and curiosity when he made his entrance. The hard part ¨C catching her attention and interest ¨C was already done. Now he had to enthral her.

    She kept on in an elegant and solemn tone. ¡°I am countess Beatrice of house Ravilna. My pleasure,¡± she said with a curtsey.

    ¡°I am Azcheron, the Rahal Saint. The pleasure is mine,¡± he replied while acting more elegantly than he ever did. He could see the disturbed and confused look on Anton''s face, so it must have been quite credible. However he did not bow ! The Saint never bowed.

    In any case, the countess did not seem to mind that the polite young man before her had made the entrance of the room explode just half an hour ago.

    That''s a good start. I can''t have my potential supporters freak out about such a small thing.

    ¡°A Rahal Saint, you are ? Forgive me, lord... Azcheron ?¡± She did not seem to know what title she should be using for addressing him, so he nodded to let her continue. ¡°I''m afraid I do not know much about your status and the Rahal clan, aside from what professor Vardt here told me. That would be that you came to meet us from a faraway island, where your clan reside, is that right ?¡±

    ¡°That is indeed the case. And the Rahal Saint, as there can be only one, is merely the head of the clan. As such, I can also be considered its representative or ambassador.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± She seemed to think of something for a moment. ¡°I do wonder what a person such as yourself, with your rank and position, would hope to find in our boring and corrupted capital ?¡±

    Azcheron wasn''t sure if she was mocking his position, or simply mocking everything in the world. By the way she described she capital, he could guess it was the latter.

    ¡°Why, there is only one thing that I want from the people gathered here.¡± He leaned closer as he noticed the alert and attentive expression of the countess. ¡°The required support to shake up the empire''s foundations,¡± he said with a smile.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    That was a lie. That clearly wasn''t Azcheron''s actual goal. He didn''t care enough about the Empire to try and change its ways, unless it turned out his clan''s past had something to do with it. No, that sort of thing would be a consequence or a collateral damage at most, maybe. But he had to beguile the countess by any means necessary, and the bigger the lie, the better. He figured she was that kind of person. The sort of woman that would be prone to support and finance any venture that could bring chaos or cause uproars, just to be distracted from her boredom.

    The countess hid her face behind her fan for a bit, the whiteness of the fan contrasting with her dark brown hair. Finally, she smiled back.

    ¡°Would it be impudent of me to ask you about the way you intend to do that ?¡±

    ¡°Not at all. But I cannot tell you much yet, obviously.¡± He carried on in a low voice, so that no word would find its way to some of the undesired ears around. ¡°I gather you are more of the witnessing type, than the acting one. Surely you would not mind being kept in the dark, as to maintain both suspense and surprise intact ?¡±

    That was a dangerous game. Azcheron would have to think up a few stunts to keep her entertained later. But he knew he was going to win her to his side at this rate. She had the look of someone who found a new toy or a promising book.

    ¡°I may be fine with that. Well then, lord Azcheron, can you at least humour me ? What sort of plot can I expect in the near future ? Give me your best synopsis.¡±

    ¡°For the opening act, what would you say about an expedition to the Desolate Lands ? I was also thinking of meeting dragons. I''ve been learning their language with this purpose in mind.¡±

    Her expression was priceless. If the countess had managed to somehow maintain her composure during Azcheron''s entrance, as befitting a bored noblewoman in her late twenties with plotting as a hobby, she did not succeed to do so this time.

    She must have been about to say something when she saw Anton''s face. He wore the smirk of someone who had been way too often on the receiving end of Azcheron''s antics, and who enjoyed seeing other people in his place.

    It seemed Anton''s reaction did the necessary convincing for any remaining doubts the countess might have harboured. Finally, she took a clear step toward Azcheron''s side.

    ¡°...You are not leaving the capital any time soon, I hope ?¡± Azcheron nodded. There was still time before winter ended. ¡°Wonderful. In that case, I would very much like to pursue our interesting little talk another time, preferably in the days to come. Away from prying ears...¡± She smiled maliciously.

    Azcheron grinned back. She was right, there were far too many curious characters wandering around them. They agreed on a day and an hour to hold a proper meeting, and both separated. The countess went to chat with other nobles, and Azcheron carried on his search for potential patrons.

    This one went well. I guess... Out of the three powerhouses tonight, I managed rather quickly to get one on my side. For now. Well then, onto the next.

    That would be Hector Talir, headmaster of the Academy.

    * * *

    And headmaster Talir turned out to be no challenge at all for Azcheron. They had a quick but straightforward talk where they made things clear between them, and agreed on a very defined collaboration. Not that Talir had high expectations for the expedition, but it coincided with his interests, so he took a gamble. The rest of the evening passed without much trouble, until Erin signalled Azcheron to come to her. Her role here was to wander around the hall and listen to bits of conversations in case anything of interest was discussed, occasionally showing herself by Azcheron''s side to make their association known.

    Though not as much as Azcheron, Erin was gathering many looks. For she was a beauty, but also a Verald. And one with a curious reputation, after all. Talks of discord within her family, rumours of her eloping with this strange commoner, and whatnot. Nobody could afford to ignore or avoid her because of her name, and the arrogant act she was putting tonight made it very clear who she was.

    ¡°Have you stumbled upon an interesting conversation ?¡± he asked as he approached her in a corner of the room, away from everyone else. Anton was managing and keeping busy the people he was previously talking with.

    ¡°More like, I stumbled upon a... colleague ?¡± She discreetly pointed at a man that had, at first glance, nothing remarkable about him.

    But Azcheron quickly grasped what she meant. Why he was unremarkable. That was the point. It had worked until here. Azcheron might not have noticed him without Erin''s help, because he was too focused on dealing with the nobles and figuring ways to gain their favour without revealing too much about him.

    The man had been prowling around the room, never too far from Azcheron, and more importantly, always close enough to eavesdrop on his chats with the others nobles. He was doing the same thing as Erin. He was a spy, albeit not a very good one. It was obvious at this point. There were many other people trying to learn of the content of the Saint''s chats, but this one had been following him everywhere. Even now he was taking quick glances toward Azcheron and Erin, but he couldn''t get any closer without risking looking suspicious since they were purposely putting distance between themselves and the other guests.

    ¡°How should we deal with him ?¡± Erin inquired.

    ¡°I can''t risk anything rash until I know whose side he''s working for. It''s not the Farril, right ?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Unlikely. They''d use servants if they wanted to spy on you in their own house. Or maybe Darius. But I doubt he''d agree knowingly to that. And the guy listened on all your conversations, no exception, so I think it''s probably not one of the three big players here.¡±

    ¡°So...¡± He thought for a bit. ¡°It couldn''t really be some unknown noble, most don''t hold enough power to be concerned and worried by what I could do... And it''s too soon for anyone without connections to know much about me. That leaves only unpleasant options. You know what I mean ?¡±

    ¡°I know. It''s probably some high-ranking guy. From an important guild, or the imperial crown, or one of the four houses...¡± She frowned. ¡°I sure hope it''s not them. I''d find it distasteful, but that''d be the kind of thing they''d do.¡±

    ¡°Well we won''t be able to do anything about that guy as long as we''re here. And now that I know there''s a snake in the room, I''m not confident I can keep talking to the nobles while acting innocently and unsuspiciously.¡±

    ¡°We don''t even know what he managed to overhear. You think he could have used sound magic to help him ?¡±

    ¡°I would have felt it. And even if I was too focused on the nobles and missed it, either Anton or Roharl would have noticed and warned me. I''m not sure about Hector Talir since he might not entirely trust me yet. In any case, we should act discreetly.¡±

    ¡°Do you have a plan, then ?¡±

    Azcheron smiled. ¡°Maybe. I''ve more or less obtained what I came here for, so we don''t need to stay. Why don''t we try to lure him ?¡±

    He strode toward Anton and his group, making sure the spy could hear what he''d say. ¡°Anton, dear friend, I''ll have to take my leave soon. Something came up.¡±

    ¡°Eh ? That''s... sudden. Don''t you want to enjoy the reception a bit more ?¡± The old mage seemed to notice that something was wrong.

    ¡°Impossible, I''m afraid. It was a pleasant evening, though. Sorry to drop that on you without warning, but could you take care of the rest ? Send my regards and apologies to the others.¡±

    Azcheron tried to make it look like he had a pressing matter to attend. Anton didn''t insist, probably preferring not to get involved in whatever might be about to happen. Hopefully, the spy would take the bait.

    After saying their farewell to the people present, Azcheron left, followed by Erin. Gabriel accompanied them to the exit, and they made small talk. Once outside, they started to walk away, but slowly, as to remain visible to anyone who''d exit the manor after them.

    Without looking back, they could hear the door opening and closing discreetly, in the silent nocturnal street.

    The snake took the bait.

 21 - Imperial Capital IX

    ¡°I can''t believe I still have to say it nowadays. Stop wearing conspicuous clothing. Spies haven''t been wearing black cloaks and mysterious hoods since forever. That''s an assassin thing, don''t get these jobs mixed up. It''s meant to make you look scary, but in your case it''ll just make you look damn obvious. And seriously, stop doing things like hiding in corners, walking on rooftops and breaking into people''s homes. You''re not a thief. And since you''re an idiot, you''ll get caught. Ah, yes, there''s that too. Please, oh please, forget about funny devices and clever tools, customized carriages and beautiful, dangerous young ladies. There won''t be any of that. You read too much books. At best, you''ll be courting some old lady and reluctantly indulging in the ''pleasures'' of the flesh with her because that''s the only way you''ll get any information from her. Yes, congratulation, you understand now that being a spy is akin to being a whore. Do you still want to do it ?

    -Spying for beginners : how to get started in spying in five lessons, bestseller by the ex-imperial spymaster¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    They kept a rather slow pace as to make sure the spy would not lose them. He did a more or less okay job at prowling around in the reception, but there was no guarantee he''d be able to tail someone in the capital.

    While they walked, they started to discuss nonchalantly to avoid raising suspicions. Azcheron felt it was a good time to review the evening and to put some order in his gains. He used sound magic to stop the spy from eavesdropping. If the spy couldn''t use magic, he wouldn''t know it. If he did, all the better, he''d find it even more fishy and would definitely follow them.

    ¡°I think it was fairly successful. Out of the three major power present, I''d say I have at least two on my side.¡±

    ¡°Talir and Ravilna, huh... Can you really trust them ?¡±

    ¡°Well, as long as I give them what they want. The headmaster''s expectations are pretty much the simplest. Not necessarily the easiest, but at least he''s very clear on what he wants.¡±

    ¡°Right, he looks like a pragmatic man that regards highly his interests.¡±

    ¡°Mh. He''s not like Anton, that''s for sure. I wonder if there is bad blood between them ? Still, for now I can count on him. The man thinks I can benefit the Academy and the mage community, so I won''t have any trouble having him aid me for the expedition.¡±

    Hector Talir was, indeed, the kind of man that would support Azcheron as long as it was good for the Academy''s reputation and power. And what could benefit more to such a man, than an expedition in the Desolate Lands, a place of mystery and death where mana did not exist in the air ? It was basically the greatest challenge for every mage.

    He carried on. ¡°I''ve done well to mention dragons, too. Everything related to dragons is supposedly interesting for mages, scholars, historians and whatnot. He should probably give me enough researchers and archeologists.¡±

    Azcheron could obviously not manage an expedition on his own. He didn''t particularly know what to look for in the Desolate Lands, so specialists and experts would be more than welcome. They''d be able to properly identify the things that would unmistakeably bring him glory and fame.

    When Talir voiced his concerns about the necessary manpower to protect the scholars, and the means to, in a more general manner, survive in what was little more than a death pit, Anton and Roharl came to his rescue. Both vouched for his ability as a mage, and even if he wouldn''t be able to use magic freely in the desert, they insisted that he could manage to keep everyone alive with his wits. Without these two intervening, the headmaster would have probably discarded Azcheron''s request.

    Azcheron also pointed that Erin would be a considerable asset, seeing as she was skilled, battle-hardened, and also smart. Showing by the same occasion that the lady Verald was Azcheron''s comrade and would take part in the journey. Moreover, he was planning to ask the countess Ravilna for some reliables soldiers who wouldn''t mind going for a trip in the most famous graveyard of the continent.

    ¡°Then, what about the countess ? I wasn''t here when you talked with her.¡±

    ¡°Well... She has quite a character, that''s the least I can say.¡± He scratched his chin. ¡°I clearly can''t trust her, ever. If anything I think she''s the least trustworthy person I''ve ever met. She''ll be an ally as long as she finds me fun and entertaining. But she''ll forget about me and leave me to the wolves without batting an eye, the second she thinks I''m boring or no longer capable of doing something interesting.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a great ally to have !¡± Erin said mockingly.

    ¡°Heh. Plus, she might be the less powerful of the three, seeing as she''s only the daughter of the Ravilna''s head. Still, she has a great deal of influence, can rely on her name, impact her father''s decisions, and more importantly, she has money and she''s free to use it as she likes. Ultimately, she''ll agree to support and finance anything that manages to catch her curiosity. As long as I can do that and provide her with antics and stunts such as going west to meet dragons and explore a desert, we''ll be fine.¡±

    I''ll have to make them look bigger and more daring each time, though. I did promise her that I''d throw the Empire into chaos... Damn.

    Maybe I should just do it. For fun. Shouldn''t be too hard. Maybe I''ll even manage to overtake the Empire ? Then I could become a tyrant or an evil overlord. Hmm, so many career paths...

    ¡°That leaves the Farril house. I''m actually surprised they didn''t try to befriend you more, with you knowing Roharl and Darius. Maybe they didn''t enjoy that you made their door explode ?¡±

    ¡°Haha, I think they are just treading carefully. Lord Farril didn''t seem hostile when we spoke, even if it was for a short time. What''s his name anyway ? Anton told me but I forgot. Or I wasn''t listening.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know either. I think it''s Garret ? Garrias ? Wait, we don''t care about that. Carry on.¡±

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°I''m confident I''ll have him in my pocket in the future. We didn''t even agree or talk about anything concrete and definite, but I''m fairly sure I''m in favour of the Farril house as a whole. Even though Roharl gave up his name, it looks like he still has a good amount of influence on his family. That''s a renowned hero for you I guess. Good thing he seems to like me.¡±

    ¡°Indeed. Ah, there''s Darius too. In fact he might be even more important in the future, right ?¡±

    ¡°If he inherits the house, yes. I don''t know if he has siblings or something, however. My mistake for not asking... Well, I''m not that friendly with him. You, however...¡± He stared at Erin, grinning.

    She frowned and turned to the other side. ¡°Why, I wonder, are you looking at me like that.¡±

    ¡°Come on, I''m just joking. Seriously though, he seems to fancy you. I don''t feel proud to ask that of you, but I''d like it if you remained on good terms with him. I don''t think he is a bad person, and he might turn into a real ally.¡±

    Erin tried to pout or something of the sort, but it didn''t suit her. She made a scary face instead.

    ¡°Well it''s not like I was planning to go and smack my knee on his face, and while spitting in his eyes, insulting him and telling him not to approach me ever again unless he wants to have his elbows bent in the other way.¡±This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°That... sounds like an awfully detailed scenario. Did I just save him unknowingly ?¡±

    ¡°NO ! I was joking ! Why do you always take what I say at face value when you''re the one who''s casually plotting the most ignoble things most of the time !¡±

    Azcheron laughed and shrugged. ¡°Back on the matter at hand, I actually think the Farril could prove to be the most trustworthy allies we could find in the aristocracy. If we manage to really befriend Roharl and Darius, it''ll become a safe collaboration based on mutual respect and friendship ! Friendship, my dear Erin !¡±

    ¡°You look like you''re mocking the word ''friendship''. No, I guess you indeed are. But you do know you are right even though you''re being sarcastic ? It wouldn''t be a bad thing to get closer to these two.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. Since the support of the countess and the headmaster is more of a conditional thing. That''s why I said that, even mockingly. Ah, I guess we also managed to do two others things tonight.¡±

    ¡°Eh ? And that would be ?¡±

    ¡°First, I made my immediate goals known. Not only to these three people, but to the whole reception. Soon the word should spread that, I, Azcheron, whose reputation has already started to grow, will depart for the Desolate Lands by winter''s end.¡±

    ¡°Even if most of them don''t believe you''ll come back alive ? I''m actually certain that some are secretly laughing about it, even perhaps hoping you''ll fail.¡±

    ¡°It''s fine if they don''t expect anything. What matters is that they know, and that they talk about it. So this way when I come back alive and successful to everyone''s surprise, it''ll be in a shocking and thunderous fashion. I''ll be famous instantaneously.¡±

    ¡°You know, I''m starting to wonder whether glory and fame are just tools for your goals, or if your quest for truth is just an opportunity or a pretext to have songs and books written about you...¡±

    ¡°Heh. Why not both ?¡±

    Although you have a point. I''d be lying if I said I didn''t care about the glory ! I''m the Saint, after all, it is my duty to make my might known.

    He kept on. ¡°As for tonight''s last success...¡±

    ¡°It''s my name, right ?¡± Azcheron nodded. ¡°You made our association known, and people will start to speculate about the Verald''s involvement. It''s a risky move.¡±

    ¡°I know. But this way we''ll know for sure what they think about all that. Either they''ll keep a low profile to avoid rumours spreading, or they''ll finally act more decisively. We''ll have to be on our guard from now on.¡±

    Erin tugged on Azcheron''s sleeve as to slow his pace. ¡°About that. Shouldn''t we take care of the snake ? He has been dedicatedly following us for some time, now. I don''t think he''s a professional or anything like that though, and I wouldn¡¯t want him deciding to stop tailing us because he got tired.¡±

    He slightly turned his head as to look behind him, without being too obvious. ¡°Indeed, he''s an amateur of some sort. Let''s find a street were we can greet him then.¡±

    ¡°How do you want to do that ? If we interrogate him and let him go he''ll run to his boss and spill everything he has learned, including the fact that we caught him. And if we kill him it''ll raise suspicion and might give away the fact that we''re wary.¡±

    ¡°I''ve got the perfect idea. There''s a spell I''ve been wanting to try ever since I read about it,¡± Azcheron replied merrily. ¡°We won''t interrogate him but at least we''ll be able to check his face and his belongings without him knowing.¡±

    Erin looked at him, slightly confused, but nodded. She pointed to a long narrow street where they could ambush the man. They entered, walked to the other end, and Azcheron started to gather mana in the alley.

    An almost invisible gas formed in the narrow passage, and only the attentive eye could notice it by spotting the faint blurring in the air. The darkness made it fairly impossible to see, in fact. The alley was at least fifty meters long, which should be enough for the spell to work if the man didn''t cross it too quickly. The ideal thing would be to have him stand here and wait, until the magic took effect, but it''d be hard to set up without it being suspicious.

    So, Azcheron and Erin stood at the opposite side of the alley, waiting for the man to enter it. As he did, they began to walk away slowly again, so that the man would follow them at the same pace. After a short time, Azcheron heard a faint thud. He turned back to witness the unconscious body of the spy. If the man had smelled anything that could have warned him, he didn''t seem like he managed to react in time.

    ¡°Was that sleep magic ?¡±

    ¡°Yes, sort of. I used gas. We should check if he''s still alive, just in case. I''m afraid I made the magic very potent,¡± Azcheron said flatly as he walked toward the body.

    Erin grimaced. ¡°Great.¡±

    ¡°Well, I couldn''t risk the gas not working. It''s the first time I try such a spell, so...¡± He took the man''s pulse, and gave the verdict in a slightly dissatisfied tone. ¡°He''s alright. ...Eeh, except for the thing he fell into. Is that puke ?¡±

    ¡°Why do you sound disappointed ! Did you actually try to kill him ?¡±

    ¡°No, but, you know. If it turned out I could use it to kill someone so stealthily, that would have made me the best assassin of the Empire, or something like that.¡±

    ¡°Haaah. Of course. Well, let''s not assassinate him now that he''s asleep, and search him instead.¡±

    They crouched and took a moment to observe the guy and go through his belongings.

    ¡°He looks like some random noble... He really is unremarkable. Does his face ring a bell to you ?¡± Erin shook her head. ¡°Hmm. Well we should assume he was invited by Anton and the Farril, seeing how his clothes follow the reception''s dress-code. Was he coerced by someone else who learned he would be coming to my party ?¡±

    ¡°That''d be my guess...¡± She stood up and scratched her cheek. ¡°No papers, letter or seal, no handkerchief, pen or jewellery... This guy''s not even worth robbing. For a noble he''s pretty devoid of... things. I don''t know.¡±

    ¡°Someone posing as a noble then ? No, the others would have noticed if there was a guest nobody knew. I hope ? So, maybe he was careful enough to avoid wearing and taking on him anything that could reveal his identity or affiliation...¡±

    ¡°Should we get back and ask Anton or someone trustworthy ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know. We''d have to either carry him or get Anton here before he wakes up. And we''re pretty far away. I don''t even know how long he''ll be asleep and I don''t want to be seen carrying a body. One of us could go look for Anton while the other keeps the man unconscious, though. Or in the end perhaps we should interrogate him.¡±

    ¡°Hmm... Ah, maybe check the clothing itself ? See if there''s not the signature of an artisan or some tell. Maybe a secret pocket if we''re lucky...¡± she said without sounding too hopeful.

    Azcheron complied. ¡°Is that a thing ? Well I guess if you''re a skilled tailor you''d want your name on your creations... Oh.¡± He suddenly smiled and waved for Erin to come closer. ¡°We almost missed that because of the darkness.¡±

    It was an embroidery. Some coat of arms was stitched on the outfit''s lapel. Seeing it, Erin''s face darkened.

    ¡°...Huh. I guess I shouldn''t be that surprised. I envisaged it, in fact.¡±

    ¡°So who is our little snake ?¡±

    ¡°Some nobody, like we thought. There''s only one reason I''d recognize his crest.¡± Azcheron understood what she meant. ¡°He''s basically a retainer of the Verald.¡±

    ¡°I guess we know their stance now ? Clearly they are wary of me.¡±

    ¡°Why was he even here anyway ? And how come a spy would wear his crest on his clothes ? What if we''re being tricked ?¡±

    ¡°It''s nothing to be taken aback by. I don''t think he even expected to be caught. You know, hide the tree in the forest. It''d have been even fore fishy if there was an unidentifiable guest at the reception. Though it turned out to be convenient for us, that''s for sure. But just in case, we can still keep in mind the possibility that the Verald are being framed, if you want. As for why he was present... Anton knows almost nothing of your situation, and I didn''t ask him to sort out the houses we''d want to meet with. Actually we should be glad he didn''t invite someone from your family. That... would have been awkward.¡±

    ¡°I bet he did, but they must have refused. They''re the kind of people that would never come to a reception hosted in the honour of someone like you. You know they don''t fancy you, right ? Even without this whole spy thing...¡±

    ¡°Of course. I''m sure they didn''t wait to learn that I was a commoner to dislike me. Being seen with you was sufficient,¡± he mocked.

    ¡°Right, so what do we do now ? If the guy realize we were onto him, he''ll report everything and next time we''ll have to deal with more professional snakes. That could be annoying.¡±

    ¡°Usually, I''d answer to such a behaviour with an well-deserved beheading, but...¡± Seeing Erin''s disapproving look, he groaned. ¡°Hah, I know, I know. Wrong choice.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I don''t know how ''appropriate'' that would be. Please find something else than head removal, and more generally, execution.¡±

    Azcheron laid his back onto the wall and thought for a while. ¡°Well, I used sleep magic because it allows for more flexibility regarding our cover-up.¡± He fixedly looked at the puke splattered on the man. ¡°Mmh, I guess it could work... are there inns somewhere close ? Or places where we can buy alcohol ? Any location with drunk people will do, in fact.¡±

    Erin raised an eyebrow. ¡°Yes ? I think... a few streets away, there should be a lively neighbourhood with everything you want. Why ?¡±

    ¡°Here, help me lift the guy. We''ll make it look as if he almost drank himself to death. When he wakes up surrounded by vomit, empty bottles, and other unconscious people, even if he has doubts about what happened, he''ll be so embarrassed that he''ll never report the full story to your family. No spy would dare telling their employer that they woke up in the middle of drunkards and barrels of beer, not remembering half the evening when they were supposed to tail someone.¡±

    ¡°What''s with this plan ? It''s very lame. I hope it''ll work, at least.¡±

    Azcheron shrugged. ¡°That''s the best I could think of right now.¡±

    Truly a great way to end the evening, he thought.

 22 - Imperial Capital X

    ¡°The dragons living in the western mountains are known as stone dragons, or grey dragons. The word is the same for both in their tongue, similar to how red and fire dragons are the exact same thing. Thankfully, grey dragons are not like their aggressive red counterparts. In decades and decades of observation, only twice did they leave their mountain to attack people in the Empire. Most of the time, they prefer to rest in their grottos, waiting for miserables wanderers to cross their rocky valleys. Then, if they feel like it, they eat or petrify the poor lads, depending on how hungry they are.

    -anonymous traveller¡±

    * * *

    Jormas

    The capital''s west gate was noisy and lively, and it was late in the morning. People would take their lunch in a couple of hours, but for now, they were busy working outside.

    The weather had started to get better. Winter was making way to spring, and with spring came once again the soft warmth of the clear sun.

    Jormas was loading wooden crates on one of his carriages. He had unexpectedly received an important job recently, one of military importance, even. In a few days, he''d be delivering supplies and equipment to the western fortress, and some soldiers would accompany him. Whatever they planned to do with all this gear mattered little to Jormas, as long as he was paid for the job, but he still felt anxious about going west. The fortress was not far from the dragon-infested mountains, after all.

    He stopped to sit for a bit and wipe the sweat on his balding forehead, and yelled something to his apprentice. The damn brat really wasn''t any closer to being a proper merchant than five months ago, Jormas thought. He had an odd feeling of deja-vu.

    As he caught his breath, gazing at the ground, he saw two feet walking toward him. Somehow, he knew whose eyes he''d meet if he were to lift his head. Yes, this scene felt atrociously familiar.

    ¡°Good morning, brave man. How was your stay in the capital ?¡± an amused and smiling voice spoke.

    Jormas sighed and looked up to stare at Azcheron.

    ¡°Thank the Second Emperor, it was cold but bearable. Why in hell are you here and how did you know where to find me ?¡± he asked, knitting his brows.

    ¡°Hahaha ! Do not underestimate my information network ! What do you think I''ve been doing this past three months, bumming around or something ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know. But I have a feeling you are here for only one reason.¡±

    Azcheron crossed his arms against his chest. ¡°Why, of course. That would be, going with you to the western fortress in two days.¡±

    ¡°Nnng, how do y-... Tch. Since you seem to know everything, you also understand that this isn''t a civilian convoy this time ? I can''t take a kid like you, sorry.¡±

    ¡°Hah ! I expected no less from you, Jormas ! You''ve been selected for this job precisely because of your work ethics ! We''ll be fine.¡± He had his usual nonchalance, and it pissed off Jormas a bit.

    ¡°... Huh ? Did you not hear what I said ?¡±

    Then the brat suddenly took a serious tone. ¡°Did you not hear what I said ? You, and not anyone else, have been selected for this job. Why do you think so ?¡±

    He paused to let Jormas'' mind catch up.

    ¡°I''d rather not work with a caravan master I''ve never met, so I used some connections to have you, whose meticulousness and seriousness I know and trust, take charge of the convoy.¡± He observed Jormas'' expression with an amused look. ¡°Who do you think are the soldiers accompanying you anyway ?¡±

    This damn brat. Damn brat ! I''ll kill him.

    ¡°... You really enjoy making a fool out of me, eh ? That''s the second time you practise your theatrics and dramatic revelations and whatnot on me. Brat,¡± Jormas said, half angry, half amused. He didn''t really know what to think of the situation, but at least he understood that he had to thank Azcheron for this job opportunity.

    Well, thanking him... That would wait until Jormas came back safely. Knowing that Azcheron was going to the west, and that it was Jormas'' job to take him there... He couldn''t help but feel an ounce of dread. What did the brat plan, and how the heck did he obtain so much influence in mere months ? Who the hell was he anyway ?

    ¡°Well, I can see by the look of worry on your face that you''re unsure about this whole thing. Do not falter, for your participation will imply neither warring nor dragon-fighting. From the fortress onward, it''ll be only me and a handful of lucky chosen who will get to brave the many dangers of the west,¡± he said proudly.

    Jormas couldn''t really think of anything to say. What he had just been told was beyond him. He''d better do as if he hadn''t heard that. Yes, that was for the best. Better not getting involved in the brat''s mess.

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°That went well,¡± Azcheron said to no-one in particular. He was walking back to Anton''s house after leaving Jormas at the west gate.

    He had expected the merchant to get angry ¨C angrier, seeing as he was angry, just not as much as Azcheron had imagined ¨C and maybe wave his pride around, saying things like ''I don''t need your help to get jobs like that'' or ''I don''t want to own my success to anything other than my own abilities''. Things like that. Stupid people things.

    But no, Jormas had been understanding. That was the proper reaction for a stern, rigorous man like him. In any case, it was probably a good idea to tell him about Azcheron''s involvement now. It might be rude to reveal these kind of things at the last minute. Only Erin and Anton would tolerate that neglected of a timing.

    Of course, Azcheron used his connections with the Farril house to make it happen. In the end, it wasn''t anything troublesome. Lord Farril was the minister of trade, after all. He only had to ask Darius to have a word with his father, and in exchange for this favour they would have a spar when he came back from the expedition. Azcheron had refused when he first met him, but it wasn''t like he had a reason to avoid it anymore. He was simply hungry and angry at the time. Now that Darius was something similar to a friend ¨C an acquaintance ? Azcheron wasn''t sure ¨C they could have as many spars as he wanted, as long as he''d let the Saint eat before.

    Food was important for a mage, as you needed a clear mind to cast magic properly. You couldn''t do much when all you could think about was roasted chicken instead of the chemical manipulations necessary to induce combustion ! Idiots tried, and they roasted themselves in the end. Well, that''s what Anton said. According to him, the training grounds were the loudest right before noon, when the students started to lose their concentration and mess up their spells. Consequences went from merry students laughing to horrified students screaming, with the occasional Anton-breaking-fingers-induced screaming.

    Well, that was that. He was indebted to the Farril, but the debt would be repaid easily. Azcheron didn''t dare imagining what the debt would have been if he had asked the countess Ravilna, instead. She''d probably demand the destruction of a kingdom for each request, or something of the sort. Truly a creepy woman. Were she not a youthful beauty, no one would have any trouble to see that she embodied chaos itself. Alas, people mistook her foxy laugh for seductiveness and femininity, when really it was nothing more than glee and evilness.

    Mh. I wonder why I have such an opinion of her. The meeting went well, in the end, and she gave me the soldiers I wanted.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Indeed, Azcheron and the countess had finished their talk at the Ravilna manor the other day. It went as expected, and Beatrice Ravilna agreed to take care of the soldiers. The Saint had asked for men who were at least interested in visiting the Desolate Lands, and if possible eager to do so. That meant the choice would be sparse, and it would not amount to anything more than a mere unit. Not many people actually wanted to go there. Most were crazy or suicidal. But there was no need for an army to come, a small unit would suffice ¨C it was in fact what Azcheron wanted.

    The expedition had to be as stealthy as it could be. You''d want to avoid attention, with all the things trying to kill you in both the mountain range and the desert ! Only idiots would send armies there. In fact, some idiots did. Azcheron had read about that while doing his research. Some kings or generals would occasionally try to ''conquer'' the west, not that there really was anything to conquest aside from sand and rocks. Needless to say, it never turned out well. The results should have been obvious to most people, but blind greed and careless ambition didn''t usually make a man the smartest of the bunch. They were warned, advised against and whatnot, but the dedicated advisors who took it upon themselves to do their job properly ¨C advising ¨C were either fired or hanged. By the neck if they were lucky, otherwise by the crotch, depending on the cultural variations of the manifestation of brainless anger in powerful individuals such as princes and lords.

    Some countries really have barbaric ways, Azcheron concluded.

    The point was, some ¨C not very smart ¨C people challenged the west, regardless of what other ¨C smarter ¨C people said to them. Naturally, they didn''t plan ahead. They didn''t envision the obscene logistic issues that would be caused by an army trying to cross a mountain inhabited by dragons, and then said army getting cut off from the supply line because... the dragons ate the supply line, and the people guarding the supply line, and the people who came after to replace the lost supply line, and then the army when it became weak and starved. So many logistic issues, so little planning. Truly a shame. Dragons could be really hungry sometimes, or so it seemed.

    By all accounts, the grey dragons living in the westerns mountains weren''t the most aggressive among their kin, but would you really act nice and polite when you stumbled upon an army trying to walk through your garden and your house ? No. You''d eat the army, obviously. At least that seemed to be the reason behind the dragons'' way of dealing with intruders in their home. You would have some chance of surviving the venture if you came in a small group, which was Azcheron''s intention, but an army, no, an army wouldn''t pass unscathed.

    Then, there was the desert. Amidst the considerably numerous tragedies that were the historical reports of armies trying to cross the mountains, some did succeed, strangely. Only to encounter another form of death. Azcheron found an old diary in the library, that probably belonged to a soldier from these times of bravery and stupidity, in which there was mention of a poll that circulated among the infantry. Said infantry had successfully passed the mountain, and the soldiers were having a debate about what sort of demise they''d prefer to meet if given the choice.

    The first choice was being converted into a snack for the dragons. The second choice would be to die of starvation or thirst because the only thing to eat and drink here was sand, or human bodies and fluids. And the third choice was to be stomped on by the stone golems, repeatedly, until death ensued, which would occur very quickly, since the golems were large and heavy after all. Eventually, the results of the poll were evenly spread between the three generous choices. What demise the soldiers actually met in the end, would unfortunately not be known, to Azcheron''s great dismay.

    The main lesson was that, if there was one major cause of death in the mountains, there were two in the Desolate Lands. Of course, everyone knew that, even Azcheron. Still, the poll anecdote made for a fun story, in his mind.

    As for the reason an army had even less chances of survival than a small group, it was because the stone golems were in fact intelligent beings. Humans thought they could use numbers to take down lone golems, but such a thing had never happened. When they noticed a horde of humans barging into their desert, the golems gathered, as to crush numbers with numbers, and an army of golems about to trample you was the last thing you''d want to see. Well, it would actually be the last thing you''d see.

    When they weren''t feeling like running over small soldiers, the golem simply went away to do whatever they liked, which would be, supposedly, eating mana and walking on sand, like always. There was not much else to do in the Desolate Lands. When the golems acted that way, they merely waited for the intruders to get lost and decease on their own. That meant by starvation, mutiny, asphyxia because of a sandstorm, bleeding to death because of an absurdly sharp rock, suicide and whatnot. The desert could kill an entire army in the most miscellaneous fashion.

    Azcheron had to thank the library for all this information. Not that he would have tried to bring an army to the west, but these little things were nice to know. He had to thanks to poor souls that served as a prime example of what not to do there.

    * * *

    ¡°Ready when you are,¡± Jormas said.

    ¡°We have to wait for Darius, then we can leave,¡± Azcheron replied.

    It was the day of the departure. Azcheron''s group were waiting at the west gate, prepared to depart. The cargo was entirely loaded, and the group of scholars and soldiers was complete. Azcheron found no fault in being the leader of the expedition even though he had neither practical experience nor a proper sense of responsibilities, but he believed Erin would somehow manage the ''logistic part''.

    The scariest thing was perhaps the fact that their sponsors also found nothing to object to Azcheron handling the leadership. The Saint himself was aware of how careless the whole thing was but in a convoluted twist of logic of which he had the secret, he ended up convincing himself that it was a sound decision. Well, to his defence, he had his plotting and his knowledge of the Dragon tongue on his side. Of course, the others members had no way to know in what kind of mess they got dragged in, yet. They still hadn''t got much time to get to know each other, but soon they would.

    The trip to the western fortress would take a month, then they expected to take between a day and a week to cross the mountain, depending on the dragons'' current location. The mountain was reputed to be tremendously huge, and there were many possible ways to pass. It all came down to which routes were far enough from a dragon''s sleeping spot at the time.

    Right now they were waiting for their friend Darius, who was supposed to bring them something. The whole situation was cryptic as hell, as neither Azcheron nor Erin knew what Darius had to give them, and not even why he didn''t think about it earlier. According to him however, it was important, and that would be the reason he ran back to his manor just to retrieve it. What an imbecile, was what Azcheron wanted to say, but he didn''t. Because Roharl was also here. You didn''t insult someone''s family in front of said someone, especially if he was called the Dragon Slayer.

    Why is he even here ?

    This question was starting to pop up way too often. At this rate, Roharl''s actions would soon become as extravagant and unfathomable as Azcheron''s.

    That''s why I call him my rival. It never had anything to do with magic. Flamboyance, yes. The bastard may be old but we follow the same path.

    ¡°Kid, if you actually encounter one of them, don''t rely too much on my advice. Talk your way out if you can.¡±

    Mmh. Huh ? Was it Roharl who just spoke ? What ? Who is this ?

    Azcheron glanced at Erin to try to obtain an answer by seeing her expression, and he did. She also seemed puzzled. Indeed, ''twas Roharl who spoke.

    ¡°This sounds strange coming from you. Talking ? Is this a hidden trial or something ?¡±

    ¡°No, do take me seriously this time. You''re lucky that this mountain has only stone ones. They''re not too fiery, you may very possibly manage to pass without them bothering themselves with you.¡±

    Roharl''s speech was somehow different than usual. The cacophonous merriness was gone. There was a curious respect and solemness in his voice. As if, beyond all the boasting and noisy extravagance, what primed was the reverence for the dragons. As expected of someone who spent his life fighting them, he must have known both their might and their beauty, better than anyone else.

    Azcheron smiled. ¡°Do not worry. I don''t intend to antagonize any of them. I''d very much have a talk with them if the opportunity presents itself, so fighting shall be my very last resort.¡±

    The Dragon Slayer stayed silent and gave him a long indecipherable look.

    While pondering the meaning of Roharl''s behaviour, Azcheron noticed Darius running toward them. He looked exhausted. He had to run through half the city, after all. Even though he could use a less potent version of Manasprint that he learned recently, the fatigue wasn''t diminished by the spell, and the use''s body took the toll regardless.

    ¡°Sorry... for... the delay...¡± he managed to blurt out through his sharp breathing. It looked like he had a pulmonary disease or something.

    ¡°Now, now, don''t die on us, eh ?¡± Roharl said, maybe thinking it was smart to give him a slap in the back. It wasn''t. Roharl''s slaps were like mana blasts. Darius was now on the ground, coughing and looking like he was about to puke his lungs.

    ¡°Uughhu...¡± He finally got up, after crawling away from Roharl and Azcheron. Was he scared ? Azcheron almost felt hurt. ¡°Here... Lady Erin.¡±

    He took out a sealed letter from his pocket and handed out to her. ¡°Don''t open it until you''re at the fortress. It is very important,¡± he explained in an uneasy voice, his face red as a tomato.

    Erin took the letter without a word, simply bowing her head.

    ¡°Well then. May fortune be with you all. Azcheron, I trust you''ll come back alive to pay your debt.¡±

    Azcheron simply gave a confident smile. Darius walked away, and Roharl followed him after nodding. No other form of farewell was needed. They had already said their goodbyes to Anton and Tania.

    And so, Azcheron, Erin, Jormas and the others departed for the west.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some detestable authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, having found an easy opportunity to make the reader pull his own teeth out in annoyance and irritation, depicted Darius'' letter as a confession, therefore starting a love triangle, a lot of unnecessary drama, and an enervative series of misunderstandings.

    History tells of a much more preferable truth : the letter was merely a missive written by the hand of lord Farril, as to grant our protagonists passage though to western fortress, toward the mountains. Darius'' apparent state of uneasiness and blushing was in fact the consequences of the torment he went through, moments before. The letter was given to Erin because she was the sole responsible-looking person of the group.

    But the story of the Love Triangle Misunderstanding Letter shall be spoken another time ¨C or not spoken at all, because there''s nothing to say anymore ! ¨C for the story of the deadly western expedition is now about to be told.

 23 - The western expedition

    ¡°The western fortress is truly an astonishing edifice. Did you know that the first architect that designed it, made it so that it would provide the very best defence against red dragons ? They all followed his directives and realized midway that the thing they has started to build would be perfectly useless against grey dragons because they did not breath fire. The next architect had the brilliant idea of making it sturdy against both grey dragons and humans. They demolished the previous junk they made, followed the new directives, then realized midway that there was no human country to the west, and that there were tens and tens of fortresses between here and the closest border. It was absolutely pointless, because in addition the terrain was the worst possible choice for defence against human invaders. In the end they settled for the current design, which is close to useless in the face of both armies, and the dragons'' petrifying magic. As I said, this fortress is astonishing, for it is probably at the same time the most costing and the most inefficient thing the Empire has ever built.

    -military architecture student¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°What are you doing ?¡± Azcheron inquired. Erin glanced to the side to see him looking above her shoulder.

    They had left the capital a few days before. They were sitting on the carriage, and Erin was carving and cutting a large and long branch of wood.

    ¡°I''m trying to sculpt a longbow, somehow.¡±

    ¡°Ooooh.¡± He nodded several times.

    Erin turned her upper body to face the Saint. They were so close that their skulls almost crashed together because of the bumpy road the carriage was moving on.

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°No, I was just thinking.¡± Azcheron dismissed with a wave of his hand, as he sat back behind her.

    Don''t tell me. You think any proper epic tale needs an archer character in the protagonist''s party or something like that.

    ¡°About ?¡± she asked with anticipation.

    ¡°How it''ll be useful because we''ll lack ranged offence without my magic.¡±

    Eh.

    Erin looked at the half-carved bow in her hands. She replied in a unconfident tone. ¡°I thought the same, but truthfully I don''t know. I doubt arrows would be very helpful against dragons and golems.¡±

    He scratched his cheek. ¡°True. But well... I''ll still take anything I can, even if it doesn''t seem effective. You never know. Are you any good with this thing, anyway ?¡±

    ¡°Mmh. I practised a bit in the past but I never really used a bow in real fights. I like swords more.¡±

    Azcheron simply grinned and went back to whatever he was doing before. They weren''t guarding the caravan right now. Erin looked around her, to see the men the countess provided. Out of the six soldiers that agreed to accompany them to the west, she only befriended their captain for now. The man was called ''Pat'' by everyone, but his real name was Philemon. The origin of the nickname Pat was a mystery, but all that mattered to Erin was that the tall bearded man appeared to be skilled and reliable.

    According to the countess, Pat used to be an elite soldier in the Imperial army, before becoming a mercenary captain. He seemed smart enough to recognize both the dangers of the expedition, and the peculiar position Azcheron had in the group. Since he was at the same time the organizer, the leader, the only mage with battle experience, the lone Dragon Tongue interpreter, and an unpredictable prick, it didn''t take much time before Pat understood that the Saint was at the same time a blessing and a curse to the group''s safety.

    The five others were also mercenaries of various pasts, but each were willing to come to the Desolate Lands. Wilhelm and Isabella also did their time with the army. Caspar used to be a gladiator in the south. Jeffrey was a mercenary since his teens, and Rudolph had been a bounty-hunter all his life. Neither Erin nor Azcheron really knew their motivation for getting involved in such a dangerous operation, but it didn''t take a genius to guess that it had to do with money and glory. Only, these guys weren''t blinded by the prospects and had a clear awareness of what they should expect. They decided to come nonetheless.

    Which wasn''t exactly the same for the scholars that Talir had sent them. It seemed that the headmaster''s choice was based rather on their skill and knowledge in field of research, instead of their willingness to take part in the expedition.

    So here was professor Nathaniel, erudite in western history, not very eager to discover at first hand the Desolate Lands he spent so much time studying, back in the Academy. The man was rather young for a professor of this school, perhaps forty or forty-five years-old, and that was mainly the issue. He claimed he was way too young to go and commit suicide in this wasteland, but unfortunately for him, Talir knew he was one of the very few people in the continent who could hope to read and write the ancient western language, of which only bits and fragments were known.

    Azcheron was curious and tried to learn it, but he failed miserably because the thing was once again an obnoxiously evil language, of a different enervative kind than the Dragon tongue however. Were they to find ruins of some sort, Nathaniel would be the one to shine.

    Cowering next to him was an flabby old man named Yorl. Headmaster Talir insisted the guy would prove useful if they came across anything that looked like an artefact or a random stone with magic scribblings. Anything that may or may not be of runic nature, he''d be the one with the most chances to make something of it, without triggering anything unwanted ¨C for instance if a rock turned out to be a receptacle for the sealed soul of a forgotten abomination.

    The last scholar, Baestar, was also a mage, though he claimed he wasn''t. Indeed, it did not seem like he was very interested in using magic in any sort of dangerous situation. He probably hoped he''d only have to cast a few utilitarian spells to study the sand, the atmosphere, and maybe the golems. As long as they were strictly unmoving and possibly dismembered. He was the less reluctant of the three, but that didn''t mean he was a jackass who''d try to study a moving golem. Not even a jackass would do something like that anyway.

    That was the gist of what Erin knew. It was more Azcheron''s job to manage the scholars and organize their search with their help. The Verald knight and the other soldiers were more preoccupied with the overall safety of the group, even now.Stolen novel; please report.

    Just because we''re going to the continent''s most famous deathtrap, should not outshine the fact that our caravan is not safe on these roads. Jormas'' cargo is military-grade gear, which would make for a good profit in any thief''s mind.

    The escort wasn''t numerous at all, but at the same time the caravan wasn''t as huge as it was during their trip toward the capital. There was only four carriages this time, and Erin was confident that Azcheron, the mercenaries and herself would be enough to deal with any kind of threat. Jormas wasn''t worried and had no trouble convincing his staff, and the scholars were too busy dealing with feelings of denial and impending doom to care about getting attacked by bandits.

    These people from the Academy are truly unreliable. Hopefully they won''t be so scared that they''d miss important findings once we get there.

    Erin, same as Azcheron, wanted to make the most of this trip. She wasn''t hungry for glory like the Saint, it had more to do with not wanting to go back to the Desolate Lands a second time because some idiot researcher was pissing his pants instead of properly doing his job.

    Erin was willing to risk her life for Azcheron''s dubious quest, but it didn''t mean she wasn''t scared. She could not afford to show it however, even to Azcheron. She was to be the one he''d rely on, if something went awry.

    It surely is an ungrateful job I agreed to take. But I knew what I was getting into when I said yes. No way I''ll back away now. It''s stressful as hell, but I have to admit I''m also excited.

    She looked at the almost-finished bow she was holding. It was really crude, clearly not a masterpiece ¨C not even of a regular quality, the wood had not dried yet, and the measurements were sloppy ¨C, but it should do the trick. In the west, there would probably not be any kind of situation where an arrow fired from a proper bow would make a difference anyway, but even then with her half-baked weapon she could use flaming arrows and create a diversion, or it could serve as a signalling tool. There were many non-offensive uses for a bow, and now she could also hunt for food with it. She could only hope the piece of junk would not suddenly break at the first occasion.

    * * *

    A month later, the western fortress appeared in the horizon.

    It was Erin''s first time seeing it. The fortress had nothing in common with the usual Imperial architecture. It also had nothing in common with the usual stronghold. It was much larger and taller. Brown bricks, lot of tall square towers, high sturdy walls, the castle was standing out against the greenery of the landscape. Were it not for the huge mountains right behind it, it would look even more spectacular.

    As they got closer, Erin noticed the terrain and the environment. Plains and hills where anyone could easily manoeuvre whether they were a single rider or a whole army. It was clearly not designed to protect the Empire from human attacks, against which the fortress gained no advantage through its location. It was here for only one reason : dragons. As such, its defences were all facing the mountains. Erin and Azcheron were approaching the stronghold from behind.

    ¡°So our journey comes to an end,¡± Jormas said, walking to the side. Azcheron, who was also next to Erin, replied to the merchant in a merry voice.

    ¡°Indeed. See ? Nothing bad happened. Your worries were unfounded.¡±

    Jormas scoffed. ¡°Pfah, I''m still afraid that you''ll do something very stupid, like bringing dragons back to the fortress. Where I''ll be waiting because I''m supposed to return to the capital with you.¡± He paused and Erin noticed a faint sadness in the tone he carried on with. ¡°Who knows how long I''ll have to wait here. You may not even come back.¡±

    Azcheron glanced at Jormas and smiled. Erin knew that her friend was fond of the old merchant. Or was fond of annoying and messing with the old merchant. Those things were the same for him, she''d say.

    She silently chuckled, as they slowly advanced toward the fortress. Pat approached them.

    ¡°How long are we staying at the fortress ?¡±

    Azcheron put his hand to his chin. ¡°Hmm. Depends on what we need to prepare. I want to check the armoury to see if I can find useful things to make up for my magic. We''ll stay the night, at least.¡±

    ¡°I see. I know a few people serving here, I was thinking of catching up with them, if it''s fine with you.¡±

    ¡°Oh, sure, sure. Do as you see fit, we don''t know if we''ll come back alive after all, hahaha !¡±

    No one else was laughing. They didn''t take it the wrong way, though, everyone had the time to get ''acquainted'' with the often inappropriate ways of Azcheron.

    Eventually, they entered the fortress through a large iron door, on the east face. Erin felt fairly oppressed as soon as she was inside. The high walls casted a shadow on the courtyard, and there wasn''t much space between each of the numerous tall and thick towers, giving off the impression that there was a second, even higher, imposing wall. It made her feel like a little rat at the bottom of a well.

    At least I can''t say it doesn''t look safe. I don''t know how it fares against dragons, but I wouldn''t even worry about magic-propelled cannonballs and siege weaponry here. These walls and towers are damn high.

    Erin''s group was briefly greeted by some high ranking official, who was already expecting the convoy''s arrival. The expedition members handed out lord Farril''s letter, which asked the officials to grant them housing in the fortress and passage toward the mountains. The man told them it posed no issue, because it was no one''s business to interfere with an sponsored expedition, even when it had to do with the Desolate Lands. The fortress''s soldiers looked like they either thought that it was brave and exciting, or that it was suicidal and meaningless. In any case it probably wasn''t worth bothering the concerned people, especially when the whole thing was backed by important houses from the capital.

    Not that Erin expected any trouble. She figured that the guys here were so bored they''d gladly send them to the west with everything they needed, just so that they''d have something to talk about in the coming evenings.

    Everyone was given some free time for the rest of the day, and they''d have a meeting this evening. Pat went to meet his acquaintances while the uneasy scholars were led to the mage quarters. The other mercenaries went to do their own things, Jormas and his staff unloaded their cargo, and so Erin and Azcheron were left alone and free to occupy themselves however they wanted.

    ¡°Let''s go to the armoury. I''ll need a proper sword, even though I won''t really know what to do with it,¡± he said, striding without waiting for her.

    True. You couldn''t swing a sword to save your own life, she mocked in her mind.

    Well, to Azcheron''s defence, he had tried, but quickly convinced himself that it would be much more stylish to hold and swing his weapon with magic. Only a few could even hope to do something like that, seeing as it required a lot of mana to wield a sword with strength, speed and accuracy, with one''s mind. Not that he made any progress, seeing as his swordsmanship was fairly unremarkable, both the real one and the ''magical'' one. His extravagant use of raw mana didn''t compensate much for poor sword skills, although it could turn out to be very interesting in the long term. This time however, he''d have to use his own mana sparsely.

    On the other hand, Erin couldn''t say either that her own training proved very successful. Azcheron was a surprisingly great teacher, but for all the months they spent at the Academy she had only managed to learn one enchantment ¨C the most basic spellblade enchantment, sword hardening. There was one silver lining though, she had spent to much time studying this single spell, and with Azcheron''s knowledge of raw mana, she didn''t need the incantation anymore. Chanting was still faster, but it was her small pride nonetheless. As the years passed, she had come to believe that she''d never be able to use magic, and yet...

    As Azcheron wandered in the fortress, Erin followed him, not bothering to wonder about how he had already managed to learn the armoury''s location.

    They walked through many corridors, passed in front of various rooms, among them the battle-mages'' armoury ¨C it was more like a large warehouse filled with artefacts and magical junk ¨C and the infirmary. Apparently the healers here were quite skilled, as expected of a stronghold supposed to fight off dragons. The people here all looked bored, but the truth was that most were actually elite soldiers or mages.

    Some time after, they arrived at a large room that looked like a another warehouse, filled with weapons, armours and tons of... stuff. There were too many things to try to describe the contents of the room.

    While Azcheron was busy rummaging through whatever caught his attention ¨C it seemed like he didn''t care about swords anymore ¨C, Erin took a look at the weaponry and the plate armours. She didn''t believe for a second that her own equipment would be outclassed, but she was curious as to what kind of gears the soldiers here used. It was basically the same as Jormas'' cargo, except wearier and older. Nothing that would make her envious. Her weapons and armour were also old and dented, but sturdy nonetheless. She found a nice and not too heavy sword that Azcheron would be able to wield easily. It was a plain longsword, but it seemed well forged. Hopefully no one would care if they took a few things from here, since the fortress had just received a new batch of weapons.

    Not that Azcheron seemed to care about what people would think if they saw him pillaging the armoury. She noticed he had already made a small pile of random things he apparently deemed interesting. Containers, barrels, various things. She came closer to observe the mysterious pile of stuff.

    Oh. I see, that''s what he meant by replacement for his magic. Indeed, that could work.

    Azcheron had gathered two barrels of powder, small pouches, bottles and containers, strings and rope.

    Gunpowder and other materials for bomb making. He''ll only have to cast a small spark to trigger it. This way he has a substitute for fireballs and smokescreens.

    She watched silently for a moment, arms crossed, as Azcheron kept finding things to compensate for his magic, amidst the junk-filled armoury. She wasn''t exactly sure if letting Azcheron dabble with explosives was a responsible thing to do, but oh well.

    Finally, he turned to Erin, a proud grin plastered on his face.

    ¡°Think we can make something interesting out of this ?¡± he said as he started to grab some materials to craft new and terribly unsafe weapons.

    She smirked and went to help him. They''d have work to do before they departed the next morning.

 24 - The western expedition II

    ¡°As a mage, I''d advise against going to the Desolate Lands. Not speaking about the golems, the dragons and the desert trying to kill every living being in general. It''s the atmosphere. This isn''t about being forced to cast spells with your own mana. Every mage who has been there knows what I''m talking about. It''s such a brutal change from the rest of the continent. The lack of mana will make any magician ill. The air will become painful. It''s worse than climbing a tall mountain or diving deep into the sea. It feels wrong and nauseating, as if the body is being stripped of its life force. No point in thinking about fighting stone golems and wandering the cold sand. The mage''s first enemy in the desert will be the awful urge to puke and collapse on the ground in foetal position.

    -veteran magician coming back from the Desolate Lands¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Morning came, and with it, the time to depart to the mountains.

    Needless to say, everyone aside from Azcheron seemed to be at best uneasy, at worst shivering and feeling nauseous. Needless to say, the scholars were all in the latter category. The mountain range was only a few hours from the fortress on horseback, so it could be said that the danger was imminent.

    ¡°Right then, I see some of you shaking in excitement and anticipation. I get it, but don''t be impatient ! We''ll get to see dragons soon enough ! Impatience brings carelessness, and that will get you killed ! Kahaha !¡± Azcheron''s ''motivational'' speech had a peculiar impact on the people that were shaking. They started to puke in joy and eagerness.

    No one could guess whether Azcheron was being serious or simply joking, but this way he made it obvious to them that he wasn''t scared. But even the Saint couldn''t avoid being afraid, although as the leader he would not show it. He knew that Erin was doing the same thing, they both were the moral strength of the group.

    They had to look crazy and confident enough. They had to look like they were the entities that made the expedition feasible. They had to convince themselves of that.

    It wasn''t too hard for Azcheron. He felt that with Erin, he could manage to overcome whatever hurdle they''d face starting today. That''s to say how much he trusted her capability and his own. Once his expedition members finished their vomiting session, they went to the stables to get horses. Depending on their route, they might have to discard the mounts at some point, but at least until they arrived at the mountains they could ride without any issue.

    Azcheron smiled as he witnessed Erin and the mercenaries jumping on their horses, while the scholars had to get some help.

    Here''s a prime example of the differences between people with practical experience, and bookworms. Heh.

    As he approached a horse he deemed proper for him, his grin froze into a grimace. He stared blankly at the animal and stopped moving entirely. Erin''s voice came from behind.

    ¡°What''s the matter ? You don''t like your mount ?¡±

    He turned his head slightly and, judging by Erin''s uneasy reaction, must have given her a terrifying look.

    ¡°Err... Azcheron ? Want to trade horses or something ?¡±

    ¡°Nnng... How...¡± he muttered.

    Erin dismounted and walked to him. ¡°I can''t hear you, what''s wrong ?¡±

    ¡°...How do you do this ? How do you... utilize a horse ?¡±

    ¡°Eh.¡± She rubbed her chin with her hand. ¡°You... don''t know how to ride one, do you ?¡±

    Azcheron gave Erin the meanest, blackest glare he could manage through his immeasurable embarrassed anger. Indeed, it had never crossed his mind. He did think about riding horses during his trip from Longhills to the capital, but not once he realized he had no idea how to ride. Since he always opted for walking until now, this critical understanding never hit him before.

    He could see Erin emotionlessly turning around and stiffly walking back to her horse. As she grabbed the reins, he could hear a badly suppressed giggle ¨C who did she think she was, a cute maiden !? ¨C, but to his ears it sounded similar to a criminally mocking snicker ¨C that was more like it, a vicious woman, yes. He could only scowl as she finally spoke in a half-compassionate, half-amused voice.

    ¡°It''s nothing to be ashamed of. Just ride with me and hold tight, alright ? We don''t want you to fall.¡±

    Erin putting a stool next to the horse was the nail on the coffin. The rock on top of the nailed coffin. Then the mountain on top of the rock. Whatever else there was after that. Without uttering a single word, he mounted the horse, sitting behind this cruel red-haired woman, piercing the back of her skull with his cold yet burning eyes. Only Pat dared to chuckle at the scene, the others having either enough intimacy with the concept of shame to know how it felt ¨C those where the ones who puked in front of everyone ¨C or being too scared of the Saint''s wrath.

    They eventually left the fortress to ride toward the mountains, although Azcheron had envisioned the scene as a more stylish one.

    * * *

    A few hours later, Azcheron''s group was climbing a steep slope. They had to dismount and guide the horses by the reins because the terrain was rough and irregular. The soldiers from the stronghold had told them that the shortest and easiest route, a deep valley, would probably be safe currently, seeing as they didn''t spot any dragons around it in the last months. As a precaution, Azcheron would use both sound and sight magic to scout the mountains, as long as he had access to raw mana.

    It''s already feeling rarer and sparser with every step, and we barely entered the mountain range.

    Hopefully, they would pass without any issue, and they''d be able to bring the horses to the Desolate Lands. They had taken enough food and water for both the expedition members and the mounts. The supplies should last at least two weeks. It would make their visit far less dangerous if riding was a possibility, because no one imagined that fleeing from a golem on foot would be an easy thing. They''d have to be wary of the environment, of course, to avoid running into the infamous deathtraps of the deserts, which were mainly very sharp and pointy rocks, and random deadly holes and crevices.

    Such a pleasant landscape, yes. I can''t wait.

    But for now they were in the mountains. There was only the sound of boots and hoofs stomping on gravel and rocks, with the occasional sword banging loudly against stone because of some careless idiot, making the mounts whinnying. As noisy as the horses were, they were allowing Azcheron and Erin to take various things with them. For one, the new weapons they hastily crafted the previous day. Their packages were numerous and somewhat heavy, and they''d be too burdened if they were to carry everything by themselves. The mounts were all from a strong breed, trained and feed with scouting, supplying, and various military operations in mind, so they didn''t have to worry about the weight of the peculiar luggage.

    They made a large quantity of and explosives, some of which were very small and light. Once ignited, their purpose was to explode at the first impact, and they would be fixed on Erin''s arrows. Explosive arrows, in other words. These projectiles were crude, brutal and barbaric, but Azcheron felt it suited Erin''s style. They ended up borrowing a real bow from the soldiers, because the piece of junk that Erin made was really crappy. Even then, it was still a mere bow and since she wasn''t that good with it, they had to find another way to make it work as a weapon, not just as a tool. The explosive arrows would be much heavier so she''d lose a lot of range, and it would not be as potent as Azcheron''s spells, but the destructive power of the powder and the range of the longbow, even diminished, should be enough. If it worked as intended, of course.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    For himself, he made a few smoke bombs in addition to regular explosives. What he needed mostly was smoke for defence, and explosive power for offence. And a sword. Erin had found him a nice sword. He''d be grateful, were it not for the humiliation she made him suffer through earlier.

    If the situation really asked for it, in last resort he''d use some extremely mighty magic. Since he would be forced to draw from his own mana pool, which was easier to work with, he might as well use advanced and difficult spells.

    It''s been a long time since I''ve casted a high-velocity fireball or a compressed mana orb ! I kind of hope the golems are resilient enough to let me do some dangerous magic. My pool is much larger than most people so I can afford to cast a few taxing spells while still keeping a safe amount of mana... Can''t wait ! Though I also really want to try these explosives arrows.

    As they made their way through the bottom the valley, Azcheron felt that something was amiss. The horses were getting nervous. Amidst the noises of gravel being crushed and rocks hitting other rocks, he could swear he had heard a different sound with his enhanced hearing. He lifted his palm and waved downward, signalling the others to stop and keep silent.

    Then everyone was able to hear it. It came from the mountain, and it felt heavy and oppressive. From beyond the grey cliffs above them, yes, there was something. Something roaring, in that very low yet very high eerie pitch.

    There''s no doubt about it. It feels too familiar. Even the others know what this is despite never hearing it before.

    It was the continuous roar of a dragon.

    The group was starting to panic, in a strange way. They grimaced, paled, began to shiver, but they didn''t say a word. No one would make a sound, no one would speak. No one would dare. Even the horses were frozen in fear, their eyes darting around, there wasn''t even the need to mute them or put them to sleep with magic. Aside from Azcheron, only Erin and Pat seemed to manage a semblance of composure. But it looked like it could crumble any moment now. Erin was looking at Azcheron with somewhat anxious and pleading eyes. What should we do, she seemed to ask. Do something, she seemed to beg.

    Why are dragons here ? This way was supposed to be safe. Shit. I don''t know what to do !

    But as he was about to give in to distress and nervousness, he noticed. Yes, he realized.

    The roar was a sentence. The dragon wasn''t just roaring, it was speaking.

    Of course. Why couldn''t I understand that ? Dragons are smarter than humans. There''s no way they''d just act like stupid angry dogs and growl at people for no reason !

    As he tried to listen to the eerie yet majestic growling-sounding chant, he wore once again an expression of realization and enlightenment. He glanced again at Erin''s pleading face, and answered with a confident smile. He could see a glimmer of relief in her beautiful golden eyes.

    The dragon was saluting them. The roar was a greeting and an inquiry. The mighty being was merely addressing the people trespassing in his home. From that finding, Azcheron could gather that people were getting eaten because they were deemed rude for not answering. Maybe ? Then perhaps the dragons didn''t know that their language wasn''t spoken anymore within the human civilization.

    But there were more pressing matters at hand than the possible obliviousness of the dragons. Someone was asking the intruders who they were, and Azcheron had to answer. He tried to speak in a decent speech.

    ¡°Greetings, great dragon. I, Azcheron, apologize for our trespass on your territory.¡±

    Azcheron could see the shocked faces on the others, except Erin who now had an expression of confidence and, strangely, pride. After all, he was trying to talk with a dragon, which was exactly what he kept boasting he would do, a month ago. That was indeed an astonishing thing to witness.

    Yes, it makes sense. Erin better be proud, for she knows me, honourable draconic diplomat by profession, personally !

    The expedition members, who couldn''t possibly understand what Azcheron said, were even more surprised to hear the continuous roaring stop. It came back a few seconds later, different this time, more similar to what Azcheron did.

    ¡°Human, you are able to fathom our tongue... Verily, such a rare sight.¡±

    What ! So they''re aware nobody can speak their language ! Then why the hell are they eating people !

    Before Azcheron could keep pondering on the esoteric ways of the dragons, the roaring continued.

    ¡°Human, for what purpose have you come hither ?¡±

    Yes, the old moustached professor had warned him. The dragons had the fancy of mixing archaic words in their speech, turning an already annoying language into some kind of hell for the novice ear. Azcheron answered as best as he could nonetheless, indulging in the same fashion.

    ¡°Prithee, I am one who seeks answers. To this end, I wander whithersoever I believe could grant me sooth.¡± He had no idea if his attempt at sounding elegant was any good.

    The choir-roar voice occurred yet again.

    ¡°Speak, human. We are curious.¡±

    It speaks normally now. Did it notice my pitiful struggle ? And it said we, so how many are they around us ? Well, this dragon made a clear demand, so I''ll oblige.

    ¡°I wish to learn of my clan, of the Rahal clan''s past and origins.¡±

    The silence that followed made Azcheron wonder if he had just doomed everyone with a careless confession. There was no guarantee that dragons would know about the clan, but if they did, they would not necessarily be allied or friendly with it.

    Come what may. At least it''d told me that something happened with the dragons long ago...

    Eventually, rocks started to move, stones began to crack, and the valley looked like it was about to collapse. Azcheron thought that the dragon had caused a landslide to kill them all, but before he could use magic to protect everyone, the chaos stopped. Without anyone realizing how, a creature was now looking at them from the top of the valley.

    A dragon.

    It was grandiose, imposing, and menacing. It was monumental, and seemed to be at the same time part of the mountain, yet something entirely different. The sun shined against the splendid stone scales coloured in various shades of ashen grey, the two wings made of silver skin and brown leather, the dark feathered mane, the pair of elongated black horns shooting backward from the head. It was the most beautiful thing Azcheron had ever seen. He felt like an meaningless insect in front of the stone dragon.

    And it was only one of the many others that were supposedly lurking in the mountain. But this one must have been an elder or something, judging by its size. It was far bigger than what dragons were supposed to be. Right now it was sitting on its hind paws, its upper body standing up straight, and it must have been as tall as a windmill, at least. The comparison was strangely adequate, seeing as the wings were as large as, if not larger than, the sails of a mill. For a second, Azcheron felt angry with himself for likening the magnificent being to a windmill.

    The dragon was no mill, and so it turned its elongated head toward the group. If it had eyes, they couldn''t be seen from this angle. It spoke again, without opening its mouth.

    ¡°Here is a name we had nigh forgotten...¡±

    It seems the dragons also use magic to speak their own tongue... Azcheron thought, not immediately realizing what the dragon had just said. Mmh. Eh !?

    The stone dragon carried on. ¡°Human, behold our decision. We wish for you to further your journey, and to prove yourself worthy of your blood. Do so, Azcheron, and erelong we shall speak again.¡±

    The chaotic sound of falling rocks occurred again, and a smoke cloud covered the group, blinding them. Before they knew it, everything stopped again, and the dragon could no longer be seen. One last roar reached Azcheron''s ears.

    ¡°Many trials await you. You are warned. Now, begone...¡±

    And the valley became silent. Azcheron turned to face the expedition members. He was met with various faces. Looks of awe, fear, reverence, or confusion. There was something akin to admiration in Erin''s eyes. Her reaction was the one that had the most impact on him.

    Erin and Pat approached him. The mercenary captain spoke first.

    ¡°What was that ? Did you just... speak with a dragon ?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I guess so.¡±

    ¡°What did you talk about ?¡± Erin asked with a grin.

    ¡°Turns out we only had to introduce ourselves and explain that we wanted to visit the Desolate Lands, then they granted us passage,¡± he said nonchalantly. He''d tell Erin the details when they would be alone.

    ¡°Well, I suppose now we know why the soldiers couldn''t spot any dragons here. This one was hidden in the... rocks ? Sleeping, maybe.¡± Pat scratched the back of his head, trying to figure out something from the dragon''s extravagant sense of theatrics.

    Azcheron shrugged. There was too much he has to think about at the moment.

    The others began to talk among themselves. They seemed very relieved and convinced that Azcheron had just saved them by bargaining with dragons. Which wasn''t half wrong. They realized that since the dragon left, the mounts'' fear had finally kicked in. They had started to shake, breath loudly and neigh. Azcheron used a weakened sleep magic to calm them, but it wasn''t very effective and it took some time before they relaxed.

    Now, that was... very interesting. He finally concluded in his mind, as they carried on their trip.

    He didn''t miss anything from this encounter. As cryptic as the dragon had been, and as approximative his own mastery of the language was, Azcheron managed to gather a lot of information. What the dragon said, what it didn''t say, how it spoke, how it looked, how it appeared and disappeared...

    From here on, the Saint could only ponder and think.

 25 - The western expedition III

    ¡°The unsightly mind of a cruel king provoked an unforeseen decline. Our civilization became one that shed blood for the sake of supremacy. Then, the cogs and gears of war and hatred pulled us toward irreversible consequences.

    -fragment of an ancient stone tablet¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    By the end of the day, they had successfully crossed the mountain.

    From atop a cliff, Erin and the others were met with the empty western landscape bathed in a red tint because of the setting sun. Once night came, they realized that, contrary to their expectations, the desert''s sand wasn''t yellow or golden. There was only ghostly white and grey land for as far as they could see. The moonlight only helped to make the sand appear eerie by giving it a silver glow, and the entire place had a feeling of wrongness.

    That must be because of the lack of mana, she thought as she observed Azcheron and the scholars. They were grimacing and making disturbed expressions. I wonder how uncomfortable it must feel. Maybe it''s like visiting a snowy country when you''ve spent all your life under the heavy southern sun ?

    It must have been very displeasing for Azcheron in particular. He had a prodigious affinity with raw mana, and now he was in a location where he couldn''t feel a single bit of it. He was pale and sweating, he looked so ill and pitiful that somehow Erin wanted to hug him. Even though she knew it wouldn''t really help him.

    As they carefully walked down a dangerous slope, Azcheron tripped and almost fell to his death.

    ¡°Urgh, this isn''t going to be as fun as I imagined...¡± he said in a groan. ¡°Sorry Erin, but for now you''ll have to lead. I can''t think properly, I feel like I''m about to faint.¡±

    Erin nodded as she held and supported Azcheron with her shoulder.

    If he died by falling off a cliff, he''d probably immediately die a second time, out of embarrassment... She joked to herself. She was half-serious, though.

    ¡°It''s okay," she tried to comfort him. ¡°You''ll be fine. If it''s you, you''ll manage to endure, to get used to it.¡±

    He just sighed and kept silent. Erin could see in the corner of her eyes that he was still trying to glance around and surveil the desert. Not that he could use his scouting magic now, but he did it nonetheless.

    They were somehow able to climb down the cliff without losing any horse, but at the cost of several hours. When they finally stood on the soft silver sand, it must have been the middle of the night. There was no wind, but the stagnant air was chilling. They made a rudimentary encampment, lit a fire with wood they had brought, and went to sleep. As always, Azcheron and Erin slept cuddled together ¨C no, perhaps because of Azcheron''s state, they really had no choice this time. Erin didn''t feel like letting her shivering, sick-looking friend sleeping all by himself on the cold, inhospitable sand.

    She was both worried and proud of him. He may have been looking like he was about to empty his stomach right now, but earlier in the day he had saved them all from a very possible death. When he was speaking with the dragon, the whole scene felt so majestic. Erin was impressed. Erin admired him. Because Azcheron was merely human after all. Despite all his smart plots, his amazing talent, his understanding of the Dragon tongue and whatnot, he was weak. Right now he was sick and vulnerable, like any human should be from time to time. That made him feel so real, so close to her, so much like a normal person, and that, in turn, made his feats even more daring and worthy of awe.

    And he doesn''t know how to ride a horse, heh.

    They still had to make sure no golem would stomp them during their sleep, so Pat and Caspar took the first watch. Hopefully, the desert''s inhabitants were easy enough to spot so that the group would have time to prepare themselves. The day had been tiring, and soon Erin fell asleep, embracing tightly Azcheron with her arms.

    * * *

    Erin took the last watch, just before dawn. They decided that they would sleep a few more hours, because they could not risk being tired while wandering in such a place. It wouldn''t do for one of them to bleed to death because an artery got carelessly ripped on a sharp rock. Azcheron wasn''t in a state, nor a location, to properly use healing magic. Everyone was of the opinion that he should be resting as much as possible, but apparently he decided otherwise. When the others were sleeping, he got up and walked toward Erin, away from the camp.

    ¡°Are you sure you don''t want to lie down for a bit longer ?¡± she asked as she watched him sitting down next to her.

    ¡°I''m better. Not fine, but better.¡± He smiled faintly. ¡°I''ll get used to it, like you said.¡±

    ¡°Okay then.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Before she could ask ''for what'', he went on. ¡°I have no idea where we should go now.¡± He pointed to the west. ¡°Maybe further into the desert. I suppose we''ll have more chances to find a golem as we go farther away from the mountains.¡±

    Right, I should have expected that. You have no intention of avoiding the golems. If I say something like ''you''re sick and you told me I was to lead for now, so let''s forget about your stupid plan'', he''ll hit me, I guess ?

    ¡°Any idea on how to keep everyone alive when we stumble on one of them ?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he answered flatly. ¡°I won''t know until I see one. We can''t rely on stories and descriptions, since they were made by people trying to run for their live with their mind clouded by panic and hysteria. A testimony from a frenzied witness is the most inaccurate thing there is.¡±

    ¡°I imagined that much. Then at least let me and Pat take care of the scouting and navigation. You''re still ill and it would tire you too much. I''ll need you to have a clear and apt mind when we encounter a golem. I''ll need you to think like you''ve never thought before.¡±

    He acquiesced with a nod.

    After a short silence, Erin spoke again. ¡°I already know the answer, but is it really necessary to find golems and whatnot ? You could already be pretty famous if people learned you had a chat with a dragon.¡±

    He chuckled. ¡°I know what you mean. But it wasn''t a chat.¡± He leaned closer to her, and continued while keeping his voice down. ¡°The dragon inquired about our purpose here. And I answered. Guess what ? I believe this one knows about my clan.¡±

    Erin couldn''t help showing her surprise. She thought he only bargained for the group''s safe passage. She signalled him to carry on.

    ¡°The dragons seemed very eager to see me pursuing my journey here. They asked that I prove myself worthy of my ancestors, or something like that.¡± He frowned. ¡°Then there was some fishy prophecy. About trials awaiting me. I can only guess that they expect me to at least take down a few golems. Or at least they have something waiting for me at some point. Maybe it''ll be soon, maybe it won''t be until a few months or years. I don''t know what ''soon'' means from the perspective of thousand years old entities.¡±

    Damn. Damn you. Why didn''t you tell me this before ? No, I can guess why. It''s not something we''d want the others to learn. This changes everything.

    ¡°So you confirmed that the dragons know about the Rahal clan. In a way we already have accomplished most of our goals, yet they can''t be bothered to tell you more about it for now, and they want you to brave some dangers and stuff ? Like a heroic quest for goodness and world peace,¡± she mockingly said.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

    ¡°Heh, that''s the gist of it. They''re acting as if they''re oracles of some sort. These dragons are pretty obnoxious. Oh, yeah, you won''t believe it, they''re so pompous they also managed to make their own language even more annoying than it is already.¡±

    She let out a small laugh. They remind me of someone. At this point I wouldn''t be that surprised if you really turned out to be a descendant of dragons. You share the same insufferable taste for theatrics and cryptic schemes.

    They kept staring wordlessly at the horizon for some time. The small fire they had made for themselves would go off any minute now, and it barely kept them warm at this point. The sun would soon make up for it, as it was raising behind the mountains. There was no sound, no wind, only the breathing of their sleeping companions and the sparse crackling of the dying fire.

    They turned their heads when they heard a groan coming from behind. It was Pat who had awoken. He glanced to the eastern sky, and started to wake the others. It didn''t take much time for everyone to get ready. They seemed to have got enough rest for now. It must have been around the middle of the morning, so it was time to get moving.

    They rode toward the west. Erin and Pat were scouting ahead of the group, so they could use the mounts for the moment. Rudolph and Isabella took care of the rear. It would be too tiring to climb the dunes while their feet sinked in the soft sand. Azcheron was riding once again with Erin, doing some sort of meditation to get used to the atmosphere. In the end, the somewhat cold air was a blessing. If there was one thing they were grateful for in the Desolate Lands, it was that the heat wasn''t amongst the potential death causes. Humans and horses could bear the chilling nights with fire and furs, but the scorching heat would be another thing. Water was still the great absent here, like in any other desert.

    I wonder if the Desolate Lands get hotter in the south. I can''t imagine it. The last thing we''d need would be this wasteland being as hot as any other desert. Well, we don''t even know how far this things goes. For all we know it could cover nine tenths of the world and we are living in the last chunk of hospitable land there is.

    The thought made her shiver. There was evidence that the desert had not always been here. When and why it came to be, however, no one could say with certainty. Only small bits of historical accounts from the old western civilization told them that whatever caused it, they most likely witnessed it but couldn''t do anything to stop it.

    What if it came ? What if it grew and passed the mountains ?

    It doesn''t look like there was any kind of change for centuries, but you never know. I can guess why information about this place would be valuable. In the end, the desert is still a threat as long as we don''t understand why it exists...

    Since she was lost in thought, she almost didn''t notice. But in the corner on her eyes she caught Pat''s horse stopping. Then she saw Pat''s frozen expression, and she understood. She glanced in the direction he was facing, and spotted it. A large and bizarre humanoid figure ¨C a golem, no doubt ¨C far in the north. Far ? Then it must have been huge. It looked like it was getting taller with each second passing. Or maybe... the golem wasn''t that far. Yes, it was running. Toward the group. Shit, why is that thing sprinting !? Fortunately, Pat snapped out of his trance and yelled to the others.

    ¡°Prepare for battle ! Golem incoming !¡±

    Erin turned to Azcheron who was holding to her back and called out to him. ¡°It''s fast ! What do we do ?¡±

    He was also observing the humanoid shape that was closing in on them. ¡°...We can''t take any chances, and there''s no time to design some clever tactic.¡± He paused. ¡°Get your new bow and your funny arrows, we''ll try to stop it before we get stomped on,¡± he finally decided with an excited grin.

    They both dismounted. Erin found a tall dune to serve as a vantage point, and Azcheron signalled the others to hide themselves. They could hear the fast and heavy footsteps of the running golem.

    ¡°Think you can reach it from here ?¡± Azcheron asked as he lit an arrow. Small pouches of powder were attached to the tip, and the idea was that upon impact the arrow would break and fire and powder would meet. Somehow.

    ¡°Are you kidding ? Did you forget that I''m not an archer and that these arrows are damn heavy ?¡±

    Now that they thought about it, it didn''t sound like it would work. Erin had not a lot of real experience with archery. And the arrows were indeed heavy. They made tests at the fortress, and it would have been probably less trouble to just throw the damn thing like a regular bomb.

    But Azcheron insisted that explosive arrows sounded really cool, and in truth even Erin wanted to try it. In any case, they had to wait for the golem to approach. Which would not take long. They could see it more clearly now. In the end it was some sort of assortment of various rocks and stones, of all kind. The only humanoid aspects of it were that it possessed four limbs, was standing on two of these limbs, and had a rock that served as a head. Bigger rocks were used for the torso, and in the end the most remarkable thing about the golem was that it was as tall as a house from the capital. A four or five stories-tall house made of stone, and of course, the weight that came with it.

    It really, really won''t do us any good to find ourselves under this thing. Alright, let''s try these dubious arrows.

    She nocked her arrow, aimed at the golem and waited in a pinch draw. She really didn''t know much about archery, but Azcheron looked like he would not allow her to pass on this ''opportunity'' to embarrass herself.

    When she deemed the moment right, she released her grip and fired. The heavy flaming arrow flew and... missed the golem, by far.

    ¡°Eh... I think we underestimated the weight of these things, you know ?¡± Erin said as Azcheron wordlessly handed her another arrow.

    Seeing as he would still not discard his idea, she fired once again. Surprisingly, it hit their target. It wasn''t hard because it was really not far away from their vantage point now. Yes, the golem was very very close. But the projectile didn''t explode.

    ¡°What the hell !?¡± Azcheron yelled and complained as they started to run down the dune.

    ¡°Yeah, well, I''m not surprised ! I think there''s a reason nobody uses explosive arrows, you know ! It''s just a shitty idea and magic works way better !¡± she managed to mock, screaming between her ragged breaths. They had to get to the mounts and immediately ride away from the golem. It was fast, but the horses should be able to outrun it, as long as the terrain was not too chaotic. Maybe they would have to discard some of their luggage, though.

    As Erin and Azcheron joined the group, Pat looked like he was about to inquire about why the golem was pursuing them instead of being dead, because that was what everyone had been expecting. Erin pointed to the horses and signalled that they had to flee. No time to talk. The golem would not wait until they explained everything. ¡°Let''s... strategically retreat for now, mmh ?¡± she only bothered to say.

    No one would be crazy enough to object, so they promptly mounted the horses and began to flee. Clinging to Erin''s back, Azcheron watched the golem as it ran after them. ¡°I think we should aim for the legs !¡± he shouted in her ears. The stomping sounds of their stony pursuer were deafening and made it hard to hear what people were saying.

    ¡°With arrows again ?¡± she wondered, frowning. She wasn''t keen on showing her archery ''prowess'' a second time.

    ¡°No, that was a dumb idea, let''s just throw stuff and explosives at his feet !¡± And he started to go through the packages attached to the horse. They didn''t bother to try to warn the others, because it was too noisy and everyone was further ahead anyway. Still holding onto Erin''s back, Azcheron eventually managed to grab a rather large bomb. In the corner of her eye, she watched him as he ignited the bomb with magic and observed both the fuse and the running golem, working out the timing. After a short moment, he simply dropped the bomb to the ground, and for a few seconds nothing happened.

    Erin only had the time to hear Azcheron say ¡°Get ready-¡± before he covered her ears with his hands and turned her head away from the golem, while a massive flash and a thunderous deflagration occurred. The power of the explosion blasted everything away, the horses and their riders were sent flying and a large cloud of sand, gravel and dust accompanied the shockwave.

    For some time, Erin could neither see nor hear. She didn''t even know if she was standing up or not. There was only a blinding white everywhere and a extremely high pitched sound. And pain. Yes, everything hurt. But pain meant she was alive. That, at least, she knew. If she concentrated, she could move and feel sand and small rocks around her. The explosion hadn''t killed her, and the golem hadn''t walked on her, yet.

    What happened ? I don''t think I even have a sense of time. Shit. Did we get the golem ? Do we have casualties ? It hurts, damn. I hope I''m not injured. I hope I have all my limbs. What about Azcheron ? He was just behind me, he must have taken most of the blast.

    Erin tried to speak, but she wasn''t sure she managed to. If she did, she couldn''t hear what she was saying. She tried to get up, or at least what she thought was up, and not even two steps in the tripped on something. It was large and soft, something organic ? But it was not breathing. Groping around, she realized it was a horse. Dead, she figured. Slowly, the shrill sound and the painful brightness began to dim. As the whiteness of the flash disappeared, she was rewarded with the whiteness of the sand. She grimaced.

    Shit. I don''t know where we are. We couldn''t have gone far even though we were blasted away. Did the explosion changed the whole landscape !?

    She looked around, still dizzy, and immediately spotted a large pile of rocks. Many chunks of stone were also scattered around it. The golem. It wasn''t moving anymore, and it seemed that the explosion had destroyed much more than its legs.

    Damn you, Azcheron. What the heck ! Did you pack some kind of enhanced powder inside the bomb, or what !

    Erin could see some dark bumps of various size, half-sinking into the sand. Horses and some members of the group. They were moving and groaning so at least they weren''t dead. Azcheron, Pat and a few others were nowhere to be seen, so she started to search for the missing people. They must have been buried under the sand or something like that. As the others regained their senses, they followed her example once they got a hold of the situation.

    She found Pat, unconscious but breathing. Curiously, for the moment no one was grievously injured. Most of their wounds were caused by the shockwave and the fall. Good thing there was almost only sand around here, because the infamous sharp rocks ¨C which they had yet to see ¨C would not have been so forgiving. As she pondered on the fortunate outcome and made her own conclusions, an angry voice echoed and gave Erin her smile back.

    ¡°Nnnnng, I feel like I''ve never had so many consecutive bad ideas in such a short amount of time. Hello ! Is everyone fine ? Did I kill somebody ?¡±

    This guy... Why does he sound so happy even when he''s clearly angry ?

    ¡°You almost did. We lost a horse,¡± she replied, walking toward Azcheron who was still buried in sand till the waist.

    He looked at the only horse not moving and neighing. ¡°Sorry, horse. Was it ours ?¡±

    She shook her head. ¡°Surprisingly, no. We were the closest but we''re fairly unharmed, so I imagine you used magic ? Or else most of us, and especially you, would be in many small parts right now.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I did my best to contain the explosion and the shockwave, but it was much more powerful than I expected.¡± Hearing that, Erin snickered and pulled him out of the sand, and he dusted off his clothes. ¡°Huh, I guess it somehow worked, in the end. But it ate a good chunk of my mana.¡±

    ¡°What the hell was that explosion ?¡± Pat inquired as Isabella supported him. He was still wobbly as he had apparently just regained consciousness.

    Azcheron gave a malicious grin. ¡°Just a test. Now that I more or less know what it takes, what do you say about going golem hunting ?¡±

    Yeah, I don''t know ?

 26 - The western expedition IV

    ¡°From the earth and the stones, they were given a body. From our science and magic, they were given a life. Yet it was our weakness, our vice, that gave them their purpose : destruction.

    -fragment of an ancient stone tablet¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°Hunting, you say ?¡± Pat said disapprovingly. ¡°Isn''t this one enough ? We haven''t even studied it yet.¡±

    Azcheron nodded, only half-listening to Pat''s opinion. ¡°Mmh, mmh, you are right, let us study the thing. Yorl ! Baestar ! Time for you to do your job ! We''ll have an anatomy lesson of the most exotic nature, aren''t you glad ?¡± he said as he stared at the two scholar who clearly weren''t as enthusiast as him. They had just avoided death and it seemed they weren''t sure yet if the greatest danger here was the presence of golems, or Azcheron.

    Not caring one bit about the scholars'' personal feelings, he ushered them toward the rocks that were the golem''s cadaver. Erin and Pat followed, and basically everyone else did so. No one could say they weren''t curious.

    They didn''t really know what to look for. It didn''t seem like the rocks were infused with mana, not now that the golem was destroyed anyway. Baestar tried to cast some detection magic on the rocks but as they expected these were plain, normal stones, albeit of different and seemingly random types. Yorl couldn''t find anything that looked like a rune or an artefact. Nothing seemed unusual, aside from the fact that these rocks were trying to kill everyone a few minutes earlier.

    The scholar concluded that whatever turned regular rocks into moving golems was a spell casted long ago. It would confirm the theory that the golems were feeding on the desert''s mana ¨C that was why the spell maintained itself without anyone pouring mana in it. A self-sustaining golem was a terrifying thing. How it worked though, they couldn''t know.

    So if these golems were to, say, cross the mountain toward the east, they''d turn our lands into a similar desert if we were to let them wander too long there. I wonder how many of them and how long it would take to reach this level of desertification. It should be very long, with all the forests and areas naturally dense in mana. Not that I really want an answer, because there''s only one way to know. If I was an evil lord, though...

    Azcheron was smiling to himself while thinking, but apparently it showed on his face because everyone looked at him as if he had noticed something they didn''t.

    ¡°Did you find something, Azcheron ?¡± Yorl inquired.

    Ugh... Should I tell him that I was imagining the end of the Empire ? Oh, that would make for a good distraction for the countess Ravilna !

    ¡°Nothing of the sort. I was just wondering how old they must be.¡± He paused, then stared at Baestar. ¡°Say, could you... tell the age of magic ?¡±

    The scholar made a confused face. ¡°Huh ? What for ?¡±

    ¡°I mean, is there a spell that could date the activation of another spell ?¡±

    ¡°Ah ! Err... I don''t know if it''s even possible. I see what you want to do, but if our theory is correct, the original mana, with which the spell was casted, is long gone and now only the desert''s mana remain in the golems... In any case I can''t even do anything with this one.¡±

    ¡°Mmh. Too bad. Guess we''ll have to find others golems to try it while they''re alive.¡± Of course, Azcheron didn''t really think it was ''too bad''. More like ''very convenient''.

    ¡°Yes, I- ¡­ Hah ! What ! No ! NO. I''m not doing that !¡± Baestar accompanied his refusal with an energetic gesture. It looked like he was fighting off an army of bees.

    Rudolph stepped in. ¡°Could it be that you have another way of dealing with them, apart from explosives ?¡±

    ¡°No, we''ll use bombs again,¡± Azcheron replied with his best smile. The worst thing was that he was lying, he had other means. He just didn''t want to resort to those yet.

    The general reluctancy could be witnessed effortlessly. Even Erin seemed unsure. Nothing like experiencing explosives at first-hand to discourage people from using them.

    ¡°Don''t make such sad faces. This time we''ll avoid being right next to the deflagration, it''ll be less dangerous !¡± he added, trying to obscure the fact that golems were already plenty dangerous, even without Azcheron''s irresponsible usage of bombs.

    Erin suggested a way. ¡°An ambush or a trap of some sort ?¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°Once we find a golem, everyone except me and Azcheron will hide somewhere. We''ll bait the golem to a location were we''ll have planted a small explosive, or just someplace where we can throw it without danger. It''ll be just enough to destroy its legs.¡±

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°Yes, that sounds safe. We don''t want to blow each-other up with bombs, after all. Haha !¡±

    Why aren''t you laughing. Trying to lighten the mood here. Is everyone still angry with me ?

    ¡°...Yes, we wouldn''t want that,¡± Pat said.

    ¡°That''d be a shame,¡± Baestar concurred.

    ¡°How fortunate for us to have Erin with us,¡± Wilhelm added.

    ¡°She sure seems to know how to safely use explosives,¡± Yorl concluded.

    The verdict was unanimous. Azcheron being in charge of battle plans involving explosives was deemed unhealthy. Erin was a much less dooming alternative. Realizing this, the Saint''s mood became grumpy.

    * * *

    ¡°Come on, stop sulking. You look like a child,¡± Erin complained.

    ¡°Hrmpf,¡± was the only answer Azcheron bothered to give.

    They had been riding for two days now, without seeing a single golem since the one that attacked them. The group was either unlucky because their targets were busy walking somewhere else, or something might have been happening. Maybe the golems decided to avoid the group, because they learned some way or another that it had defeated one of their own. Maybe they were preparing a large scale offensive as revenge. So, either the group was unlucky, or it was about to be very unlucky and doomed.

    Which wasn''t even the reason Azcheron was in a bad mood. He had still not forgiven the others for the distrust they placed in his ability to wield the funny explosive powder. He''d still be there to ignite them, of course, but the main attraction, the pleasure, that was the throwing, yes, well this was taken away from him. Even though he had been nice enough to heal the injured horses because of his blunder ! Ingrates.

    However he didn''t care enough to resent Erin. And it wouldn''t do to start a feud with the person he was riding with. Azcheron would rather manifest his discontentment like any adult would, through responsible sulking. This, and the fact that he was still clinging to Erin''s back, made him look like a pouting child. Even he was aware of that. But sulking was sulking ! There was no point in sulking if you stopped doing it all of the sudden, for no reason. It was a negotiation method like any other. The Saint wasn''t above cheap tricks when it came to bargaining. No matter the moral price, the Saint always won his negotiations ! His might was grand and his will was made of unbending steel.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    So, Azcheron resorted to the pouting child act. It had been going on for two days now and he wouldn''t budge. He could have played on the atmosphere devoid of mana making him ill and uneasy, but by now he was used to it, enough so that it wouldn''t show too much. So the sulking would prove more effective.

    That, and he somehow didn''t want to take advantage of Erin''s protectiveness. Her behaviour the first night, when he felt like he was about to puke and faint, was not lost on him. Azcheron wasn''t a fool, nor was he dense. It didn''t sit right with him to act like a jerk by abusing of her feelings of kindness. It was a conscience thing, perhaps. That was the rule he gave himself since he had told Erin about his goals, and since she decided to follow him. He would not trick her or betray her. Well, small plots were okay. She looked like she enjoyed surprises and twists in his ''scenarios'', so he had the duty to entertain her with small things ¨C fortunately it wasn''t on the countess Ravilna''s scale. But trust and feelings weren''t small things, and Erin was now his comrade in arms. His associate, his partner, his accomplice, his friend. He felt even closer to her than he did with Anton. The Saint didn''t trample on his close ones'' trust.

    The sulking child act was permitted, however. And it worked. Erin ended up allowing that he handled explosives. Under her strict supervision, she insisted.

    ¡°Are you worried that I''ll kill us with it ? You don''t trust me ?¡± he asked, only half-satisfied, stressing the word ''trust''.

    ¡°It''s not that I don''t trust you... In fact yes, when you say it like that I don''t really trust you with this,¡± Erin mocked. ¡°But more importantly, I don''t want you to play around and end up having to deplete your mana on useless things. Who knows when we might need it.¡±

    ¡°Mmh, indeed. However do not worry, I have much more mana than your run-of-the-mill magician. I''m the Saint, remember ! But, well... now I know that trying to magically contain an explosion is a fairly self-defeating venture. It''d be less trouble to simply destroy golems with a strong spell.¡±

    ¡°Yes, that''s the point. We''ll safely use the bombs first, and if we get cornered, you do some magic to save us. You do the job we originally agreed on, basically.¡±

    ¡°You place an awful lot of trust in me and my magic, you know,¡± he said with a grin, although Erin couldn''t see it.

    ¡°I do. In both,¡± she replied flatly.

    Azcheron remained silent. The group kept searching the desert for golems.

    * * *

    A day later, their search bore fruit. The kind of fruit that made Azcheron happy, and everyone else grimacing. Fruits, plural.

    In the horizon, there was not one but three tall shadows. Three stone golems, then. It changed a lot of things. The ambush plan became insanely more risky. Yet Azcheron insisted that he could deal with the increased danger. His mana had long been refilled, and he confessed he had a handful of spells capable of neutralizing golems or even outright crushing them. The fact that he chose to make everything explode to stop the first golem, while he had access to safer alternatives, wasn''t lost on anyone. But no one was surprised, at this point so they didn''t bother pointing that out.

    The original plan was to get rid of the legs without obliterating the entire golem. They had to study a functioning one. They could probably manage to fight against three golems with explosives only, but they would not have the luxury to avoid destroying them.

    Azcheron''s magic would probably make capture possible. He was confident he could, at least. Fighting golems wasn''t hard on paper. You simply had to stop them before they flattened you.

    It shouldn''t be too hard to cut the golem in two. Once it loses its legs, it shouldn''t be too dangerous. If necessary I can take off the limbs, too. But I don''t know at which point a golem ''dies''. Since we didn''t find anything like a rune or an artefact that acted as a core, maybe it dies once it loses too much mana. Like blood loss ? Or, more likely, the explosion just destroyed whatever core our golem had. In any case, we''ll get answers this time.

    The group sneakily made its way to the golems. It didn''t look like they were spotted by their targets yet, since there was no assemblage of stone rushing toward them. Even if all the expedition members were blind, they would hear the stomping. They hid behind a large dune, still far away from the golems, where they made a small camp. From what they saw, the stony giants would not be leaving anytime soon. They were probably busy staring at the sand and thinking about rocks. That''s how it looked to everyone, at least. They were moving from time to time, so there was no doubt they were ''alive''.

    Baestar would not take part in the battle, so he used his own mana to cast a sight-enhancing spell on Azcheron and Erin.

    Now they really look like they''re watching the sand. What the hell. We searched for days and they were just here doing... nothing ? Hrrrrh, the Desolate Lands will get the better of my patience. So, how should we do this ? They don''t look too different from the first one, so I can assume they have the same sturdiness and speed... Mmh ?

    He tucked Erin''s sleeve. ¡°Doesn''t it look like they''re too large , somehow ? Or that one of them is smaller ?¡±

    Erin observed the golems for a bit before answering. ¡°Eh, I think you''re right. What does that mean ?¡±

    The question was aimed at the group, because the scholars might have an idea.

    ¡°If we assume they are manmade, then maybe their creators experimented, or maybe they designed multiple models,¡± Yorl suggested. ¡°I could be that they did what they could with the materials they had. Or perhaps different parties each made their own type of golems ?¡±

    Stone golem warfare, huh ? Now if we take into account to unexplained downfall of this civilization, that would imply there was either a civil war here, or more than one nation. If the golems are manmade, then it''s fairly certain that they are military remnants of whoever lived here before the desertification... That''s already the main theory anyway, but it would be nice to have evidence. It would be nice if we were the ones finding said evidence, Azcheron thought, smiling. Fame ! Glory !

    ¡°Indeed, the first one was composed of many different rocks that seemingly had nothing to do with each other, maybe they were low on building materials,¡± Baestar added.

    How could you get low on stone ? It''s not hard to find. Maybe they were in a hurry.

    They turned to Nathaniel as they expected him to contribute, but he ignored everyone and went to observe the golems with his own vision spell.

    Yorl resumed the conversation. ¡°Then it should be possible to find proof of their origin. Artefacts, or maybe rocks specially carved and designed for battle ?¡±

    ¡°That, or some golems created other golems with whatever they could find, however they could,¡± Erin interjected. ¡°These strange assortments of random stones feel, well, too random to be deliberate. And that''d suggest they could use magic, to some extent...¡±

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°Hm. We can''t say for sure what created them, but at least we know that they don''t answer to a single standard. So we should not expect every golem to be like the first one. The unknown is dangerous, and I don''t want to take any risk,¡± he said in a serious tone. This time, it was credible, because he spoke the truth. ¡°We''ll destroy the small golem and a big one, for precaution.¡±

    Everyone agreed. This was the safest course of action. It was as safe as a golem hunting session in the most infamous graveyard of the world could get !

    ¡°DON''T !¡± Everyone was startled by the shout. They turned toward the culprit, Nathaniel. ¡°Destroy them, I mean. Especially the small one.¡±

    Azcheron raised a brow. ¡°Why ?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, why the hell should we not ?¡± Yorl inquired.

    ¡°Do you really not know ? You uneducated oafs ! Rejoice, because I believe I just made this crappy expedition worth its suicidal nature.¡± Everyone stared at Nathaniel, who was standing in a victorious pose. He stopped when Erin glared at him because he''d give away their position.

    What is he acting all high-and-mighty for ? Does it sound like that when I do it ? I want to break his skull open.

    ¡°Oh, and what did you find, dear Nathaniel ? Surely a well-read man like you have something interesting to tell us about the culture and language of the golems ? Maybe you could have a nice talk with them so that they would peacefully surrender to us,¡± Yorl mocked.

    ¡°If you had taken the time to look away from your magical toys and grimoires filled with creepy runes, you could have opened an architecture book for beginners, therefore allowing you to notice that there are god-damn bricks and carved stones in the small golem ! You know, the kind that we use to make HOUSES.¡±

    Oooh ! Thank you for finally being useful, Nathaniel. I was starting to think that you three lackeys of Talir were nothing more than deadweight ! Especially you, whom I envisioned as a the most futile addition.

    ¡°Oooh ! Thank you for your insight, Nathaniel. I knew I could trust headmaster Talir with selecting able people for this expedition ! Especially you, whom I expected a lot from, yes,¡± Azcheron said innocently.

    Erin frowned, clearly finding this sentence unbefitting of him. Their eyes met and he shrugged.

    ¡°Yes, well, I don''t know how valuable this would be to you guys, but to me... Do you know how rare the slightest bits of info on this ancient civilization are ? We know almost nothing of their architecture ! It''s a miracle ! So don''t destroy it. It''s very precious !¡± He was beaming a large smile and sounded like a happy, thus annoying, child.

    Oh, I thought he was smart, but in the end he''s just an idiot who''s passionate about his own thing. You''re missing the most important finding if you think we should only care about how the stupid stones look.

    ¡°Esteemed Nathaniel, I see your passion, but you''re missing another important discovery if you only think about the... architectural value of the stones. Allow me to enlighten you,¡± Azcheron replied in the least condescending tone he could muster. It was difficult. Once again, Erin stared at him with disbelief.

    ¡°Eh ? Oh, please do, sorry. I was getting excited,¡± Nathaniel apologized.

    ¡°Ah, I see what you mean. Whatever the reason, buildings and houses were used as materials for these things,¡± Baestar said, observing fixedly the small golem with his magic vision.

    ¡°Indeed. From this, we can only deduce that the golems are at least partly responsible for the large lack of ruins or archeological evidence regarding the western civilization. I believe only a few stone tablets and some dusty ancient documents make mention of it ?¡±

    Nathaniel nodded. ¡°So I guess that now, we should advise historians and archeologists to go golem hunting, eh ?¡±

    I really need to explain everything, eh ?

    ¡°Better yet.¡± Azcheron smirked and spread his arms theatrically. ¡°We''ll do it for them, and get all the fame. Is this not what we came here for ?¡±

 27 - The western expedition V

    ¡°The mistake of one resulted in the end of all. The burden became the greatest mankind had ever seen. In the end, we were forced to bear the responsibility of our own doom. War was only the beginning. What came next, was the calm void. The silent withering of all things. Life was pushed back from this land, for it had become the territory of death.

    -fragment of an ancient stone tablet¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°Around here will do,¡± Azcheron said, pointing to a tall dune, as he was crouching on the sand.

    ¡°Think they''ll take the bait ? They do seem pretty busy with... whatever they''re busy with,¡± Erin wondered.

    ¡°I trust they''ll be rushing toward you soon enough, seeing how the first one was very eager to trample on our bodies. Maybe they''re stuck with some annoying order like ''smash all invaders'' or they have a conscience of some sort, and they don''t like having people in their desert.¡±

    Yeah, not that I''m exactly longing for these things to pursue me, but...

    ¡°Alright then, how do I lure them ? We''re quite far. I can''t reach them with by bow and I don''t know if they''ll even notice me from their location.¡±

    Azcheron ''reassured'' her. ¡°Again, the first one spotted us from even farther than that. I think they have a good vision, or whatever they use to perceive their surroundings. And if it doesn''t work I''ll cast something to draw their attention on you. Don''t worry, one way or the other we''ll make them come.¡±

    ¡°Yes, great. I''m so glad,¡± she grumbled.

    The plan was simple. Erin would stand on an elevated dune, where she would be spotted by the golems. The inhabitants of the Desolate Lands being very zealous in their slaughter of trespassers, they would without a doubt come to Erin with the intent of repeatedly jumping on her until extreme flattening ensues. Here came the trick ! Before Erin encountered a weighty demise, the golems themselves would encounter highly potent explosives, conveniently laying around on their way, triggered by Azcheron''s flame. Meanwhile, the small golem with bits of civilization stuck in its body would find itself immobilized by Azcheron''s magic, as to avoid being annihilated by the bombs along with its colleagues.

    Azcheron insisted that if something went awry, he''d take care of it with magic. Erin still felt uneasy.

    I do trust him with this plan, but there''s no way anyone would ever merrily agree to this role. My new role, the best role, in this fantastic play. The human bait, Erin. Soon-to-be Organic-matter-stuck-to-the-sole-of-a-giant-foot, pleased to meet you.

    ¡°Well, time to get things done,¡± she finally said as she left Azcheron and went to the dune they had chosen. She glanced at the sun, and realized they had lost a lot of time in getting closer and designing a plan. It was already late in the afternoon.

    This better be working or else it''ll be one day and one life, mine, spent for nothing.

    Once on her vantage point, she had a clear sight of the desert, and the golems in the distance. Yes, it was definitely too far for a bow. Maybe they should have set the trap closer, in fact. It''d take several minutes for the golems to arrive, if they were as fast as a horse at full speed. But they went all-out with the explosives this time, because they were spread in a large area. It wouldn''t do for a golem to survive because Azcheron failed to ignite the bombs at the right moment. Waste of mana even if he managed to destroy it immediately after, waste of Erin if he didn''t.

    Now she realized she really had no idea what to do to catch the golems'' attention. Maybe wave ? Maybe jump and scream ? Azcheron would think she went mad. As she was thinking that, he shouted. Asking for her to close her eyes, apparently. She complied, and even with her eyelids closed she felt a sudden brightness. Once she was sure the light was gone, she opened her eyes and glanced at Azcheron. He was waving and pointing toward the golems. They were running, now. In Erin''s direction, of course, because even a blind man would have felt the flash casted by the Saint.

    Now was the hard part, waiting and hoping for the plan to work. Already she noticed that the small golem stayed behind. No, it was more like he was coming, but much more slowly than the other two. She could not see why, it was too far, was it Azcheron''s magic at hand ? At this range, it was unexpected. As always, the Saint was impressive.

    A few minutes passed, and the golems would soon arrive to the trap location. Erin glanced yet again toward Azcheron, who nodded and went to hide behind a dune, and she did the same. They expected the explosion to be massive, and every bit of protection would be gladly accepted. Since Azcheron knew the location of the bombs, and the magic necessary to ignite them was simple, he could do it without even looking.

    A moment after, Azcheron triggered the trap. A much more brighter and louder explosion than before. The ground shook, and the deflagration blasted sand and air with immense strength. She saw the top of a dune collapsing onto Azcheron, and it made her chuckle even though the moment was fairly inappropriate. Then the shockwave came and she found herself buried too. She managed to get out without trouble, thankfully.

    Erin looked at the sky. It was darkened by a massive cloud of dust. The rumble was still echoing through the desert, but it should be more or less safe by now. She walked back to the vantage point, which was a lot less high than it used to be, to witness the results of the explosion.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    The large pillar of dark smoke could be seen emerging from the ground, in the distance. The land around it was completely different. Erin had been told about how from time to time, stars and celestial bodies would fall from the sky, crashing into the human realm, causing destruction and chaos upon impact. If she had to guess how it must have looked, then this had to be the perfect image. A crater of burnt ground, and a huge grey cloud. The scene was mighty and frightening.

    What came next was something that made her even more frightened. One of the golems was still running. Chunks of it were missing and it was charred, but it was moving, and coming toward her.

    How !? Did Azcheron mess up ? But the explosion should have been big enough ! Maybe there are indeed different types and this one is much more resilient ? Shit !

    ¡°Azcheron !¡± she called out, but there was no answer. He must have been ¨C again ¨C still buried somewhere under the sand, and now the landscape had changed so much, even here, that she had no idea where he could be. She briefly tried to search for him, but the golem was approaching at a fast pace.

    Well, no time to think for now. I''ll lure this thing away from here. It''d be so stupid if Azcheron died because a golem unknowingly stomped on the sand he was buried under... Still, how careless can this guy get ?

    She started to run, and in the corner of her eye she could see the golem adjusting its course to follow her. Good. Was it good, though ? Erin wasn''t sure what she could do in this situation. She had no bombs or explosive arrows, not that she had anything to light them or that she felt they could be effective against a golem that survived something that massive.

    From here, she wasn''t able to assert what the small golem was doing. Thus there was no way to know if he was still restrained, or running freely, in which case it would been that Azcheron was unconscious or had interrupted his spell for some other reason.

    Erin tried to think of a solution. The golem pursuing her was sturdier than the others, and she had no explosives or weapon that could even make a dent in regular stone. She would not manage to outrun him, and she didn''t know enough about golems to devise a plan based on their ability. She didn''t know if they could get tired, she didn''t know the method they used to see or feel the land and their target. The first plan that came to mind was to find a crevice or any sort of large hole, and to lure the stone golem as to make it fall in it. But she didn''t know if there was any crevice around here, she couldn''t afford to search because she didn''t have the stamina nor the speed for this, and even then there was no guarantee that the golem would fall blindly for her trap.

    The second plan was to find Azcheron. But with, worst case scenario, two golems trying to kill her, the idea was suicidal. If she could find a way to hide or to sneak away, she could gain enough time, but she didn''t really want to try because the cost of failure was very high. Well, she''d die, basically.

    So many interesting prospects. I should never have agreed to this plan. Now, now, Azcheron, isn''t time for you to make your appearance and save the damsel in distress !? You bastard.

    She kept running for a while, and at some point she didn''t really care about her direction or anything. Her main concern was to keep the running golem away from everyone else. Not in an altruistic sacrificial behaviour of some sort, no. She still somehow hoped that she would stumble upon a proper solution regarding her stony, noisy, rocky issue.

    The sky had an orange tint. How many times had Erin seen the setting sun with Azcheron, now ? She remembered it was like this when they first met. She was in a vaguely hopeless situation, but somehow she didn''t feel like losing heart or resigning herself. The circumstances were the more or less the same now.

    She glanced behind her. The golem was close, now. She hadn''t noticed until now the deafening stomping sound that had been slowly, but gradually, getting closer. Yes, she was really too tired. Surely Azcheron would save her again. He had to, seeing as he was fairly guilty of endangering her, this time.

    Run. Keep running. Do not falter. Even if it''s meaningless, run.

    Or else, despair will get to you, she thought to herself.

    There was a faint flash coming from behind. Finally, she thought. Finally. Were you trying to build up tension or create a dramatic effect ? Well it didn''t work. I already expected you to rescue me. God-damn jerk.

    She looked at her pursuer once again, only to witness an enormous sphere of light where the golem should have been, that disappeared a split-second after. The stone giant ¨C or the small chunks of legs that remained of it ¨C crumbled in almost complete silence. The legs looked like they were cut clean. The noise of rocks falling on the sand felt soft and pitiful, compared to the loud stomping that was occurring until mere moments ago.

    Erin halted her course. She was extenuated and drenched in sweat. She spotted Azcheron running toward her at an abnormal speed. Manasprint, she figured. He slowed down as he closed in on her. He also seemed all sweaty and tired from running. They stood here, observing each other for a time, before Erin spoke up.

    ¡°You''re late. Fashionably late ?¡±

    Azcheron knitted his brows. ¡°No... Sorry. That was careless of me, getting buried again. I''m starting to hate sand.¡± He seemed almost regretful.

    Erin snorted. ¡°Heh.¡± She observed the spare rocks that were the remain of the golem. ¡°What was that spell ? There was no sound, no explosion, nothing.¡±

    ¡°It was a mana orb. A big one, though. You''d use that to get rid of armies or castle walls, usually.¡±

    ¡°Ooh. Isn''t it overkill, somehow ?¡±

    ¡°I...¡± He casted his gaze downward. ¡°...almost panicked. A bit. I searched for you like a madman and when I finally spotted you I thought you were about to be gruesomely flattened.¡±

    She smirked. No way she''d say something sweet like ''don''t worry, I knew you would save me''. The jerk deserved to feel guilt. At this rate, she indeed would have been flattened, after all.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I thought about cursing you in my last moments. I almost died, you know, and it''s your fault. That''s an unforgivable thing to do to a lady of the Verald house,¡± Erin mocked, crossing her arms and trying to sound serious. She caught Azcheron flashing a smile.

    Hehe. Too much ? Looks like the Verald thing crushed any remaining credibility I had.

    ¡°Why the heck did you even run so far, anyway ?¡± He was back to his usual self.

    ¡°To purposely make my rescue even more annoying and difficult, of course. You looked like you were craving for some challenge.¡± She looked once again at the golem''s rocks. ¡°You really don''t need explosives, eh ? This one survived that cataclysmic explosion, yet you crushed it effortlessly.¡±

    ¡°Yeah... But the spell I used is rather taxing, you''re not supposed to cast it with your own mana. And I honestly didn''t expect anything to resist our trap.¡±

    He does look tired. He also had to use magic to search for me. And... ah, that''s right.

    ¡°What about the small one ?¡±

    ¡°I dealt with it. I just severed its limbs because restraining it while saving you was too much of a hassle.¡±

    ¡°Is it still... alive ? Functioning ?¡±

    ¡°I have no idea. But I left it in a rather good state so we should still be able to study it. Well, we need to find the others first.¡±

    Hah. Can''t I even rest ? Golems and explosions are the least of my concerns, I''ll die from overwork at this rate.

 28 - The western expedition VI

    ¡°There''s a curious anecdote about the last moments of a mad king, in a faraway country, long, long ago. I don''t know how veracious it is, but... Shall I tell you ? The story goes like this. On the verge of defeat, the king ordered his mages to do whatever was needed to prevent the collapse of his nation. ''Build more of them !'', he yelled. ''There isn''t enough stone left in the careers, your highness !'', the mages apologized. ''Then use whatever you find ! Use the houses, use the walls, use the castle ! Build more of them !'', he screamed. The mages complied, and eventually they won the battle. The city was saved, yet nothing was left of it. Every bit of the city had become part of them. In the end, fate played one of its tricks on the king. He was accidentally crushed by one of the things that stood in place of his palace, because now there were simply too many. Well, I wonder, how much of it is true ?

    -???¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°So, what do you make of this ?¡± Azcheron inquired.

    It was morning now. The Saint and the knight had regrouped in the evening, and they decided to wait until daytime to see the captured golem. Well, of course the golem was ''dead'' by the time they arrived, but since Azcheron had dismembered it in a clean fashion, the scholars were confident they could work with it.

    Baestar was the first to report. ¡°As expected, there''s no mana left it this one. I assume the two big ones aren''t worth the trouble ?¡±

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°One took too much damage from the explosion, the other is almost entirely obliterated.¡±

    ¡°Mmh... I would have liked to check out the one who survived the blast. Either the stone that composed it was special or naturally sturdy, or it had some sort of protective enchantment. Though that wasn''t enough to defend against a mana orb, eh ?¡±

    ¡°I can still show you the remains later. It''s not too far from here.¡±

    Nathaniel and Yorl entered the conversation. ¡°I, at least, have good news,¡± the former said. ¡°There are carvings of writing on some of the bricks and a large stone that looks like a stele. If we take these back at the Academy, I can probably translate it, given enough time.¡±

    Oh, interesting.

    Yorl hurriedly took his turn to speak. ¡°Well, I, too, have good news, heh. Thanks to you not destroying the whole golem, I managed to find what I believe to be an artefact.¡± He pointed to a specific spot on the golem''s torso. ¡°Parts of it, at least, because it''s broken. Probably the thing that kept the golems moving. It must have broke somehow when you neutralized the golem, and therefore the mana drain was interrupted.¡±

    Huh, that''s also interesting. Were these guys always that useful and efficient ? No, I guess we have to thank this convenient golem ! Yes, truly convenient. It made this journey worth the trouble.

    ¡°Any idea how the artefact works ?¡± Baestar wondered.

    ¡°At first glance I''d say it''s a plain mana absorption device, the kind that can be manufactured in large numbers. I think our first guess was accurate. The original spell made the golems what they are, and the artefact simply kept them working by feeding them mana.¡±

    So, the military purpose seems like a credible theory. Maybe Nathaniel''s scribblings will be able to tell us more about what happened. I can already make some deductions, but they''re far-fetched... Also, I wonder if the desert would disappear given enough time, if we destroyed every golem ? But right now, there''s something else I want to check.

    Azcheron gathered everyone and made a proposal. They couldn''t afford to stay too long in the desert, seeing as they had to be mindful of their supplies. Yet there was now three things to do. First was studying the small golem. Then, Baestar had to check the remains of the resilient golem. Finally, Azcheron wanted to see if there was a reason the three golems were initially doing nothing. This had been teasing him ever since they noticed it. Why would these overly aggressive stone giants stand here, merely looking at the ground, when they should have been able to spot the group with ease ?

    ¡°You are suggesting that we split in groups ?¡±

    ¡°Indeed. We''ll make camp here for now. Nathaniel will stay here with Isabella and Caspar, with the small golem. Baestar, Jeffrey and Rudolph will check the bigger golem that survived the explosion. The rest will come with Yorl and me.¡±

    Yorl frowned. ¡°You''re taking Erin, Pat and Wilhelm with us ? Expecting trouble, maybe ? Why am I needed, by the way ?¡±

    ¡°That''s the point, I don''t know what to expect. It could be some unknown device messing with the golem''s behaviour, in which case you''ll have something else to study. Or it could be... anything else. And if it''s moving and alive...¡± He looked at the three that''d come with them. ¡°Well, it can''t hurt to have you guys with us.¡±

    Everyone understood, but Erin voiced her concern. ¡°What if one of the groups is targeted by golems ?¡±

    ¡°Well, our group won''t have any issue. As for the other two, we''ll give them bombs. But I''d say, just to be sure, that Nathaniel and Baestar should scout their surroundings with magic, on a regular basis.¡±

    Of course, the plan was not safe ! It was careless, even. Any other time, Azcheron would have mocked and spat on such a decision. In novels, groups separating in smaller groups always resulted in awful consequences, ranging from tragic death to stupid death. But right now time was pressing Azcheron, and everyone was aware of that. The return journey would take longer if they had to carry Nathaniel''s stones, and they might run out of water for the horses if they delayed their trip back for even a day. And, although he wasn''t worried anymore about the mountain''s dragons, what if they had to take a longer route to cross it ? He was hoping they could head east starting tomorrow.

    Everyone got ready, Nathaniel''s party prepared a camp, and Baestar and Azcheron''s respective groups each went their own way. The Saint''s destination was much farther, however. He expected the trip to take a few hours.

    As the horses walked at their own pace in the sand, Azcheron, riding with Erin as usual, scouted the desert from time to time. He couldn''t afford to waste a lot mana here, because he had not completely recovered from the previous day. That was the reason he felt he had to take both Erin and Pat with him. Obviously, he couldn''t say that in front of everyone.

    Only Erin is aware of how much mana I had to consume yesterday. Baestar knows I casted a mana orb, but until he sees the remains of the golem, he couldn''t possibly know the scale of the magic I used. I may have a large mana pool, but I messed up badly and I had to drain quite a bit from it to save Erin in time. It wouldn''t do too make the others worry. There''s no guarantee we''ll find anything dangerous there, after all.

    But Azcheron''s worries eventually took shape. As they closed in on the place the three golems were previously gathered, he saw a fourth one. Inertly laying down and, he imagined, dead. Was that the reason those three were staring at the sand ? Grieving, perhaps ? No, Azcheron realized soon enough. The other golems had been investigating, trying to find out the cause of its death. Because the fourth golem seemed oddly untouched.

    This golem didn''t appear to have anything out of the ordinary. Aside from one thing. There was a small shadow atop its corpse. Whatever that was, the Saint became instantly wary.

    ¡°This... is strange,¡± he muttered, frowning. Erin turned her head and showed him a confused expression. Azcheron''s eyes looked into hers. ¡°Expect trouble. Get ready for anything.¡±

    Erin nodded and turned back wordlessly toward the horizon. After a while, she seemed to have understood the cause of Azcheron''s worry. The group was now close enough for everyone to see. On top of the golem''s inert body, someone was sitting.

    Azcheron used sight magic to observe the figure. It was clad in a steel plate armour, similar to the one Erin was wearing. A knight. The knight''s face was hidden behind a rusty close helm, and the dusty armour didn''t give away the gender of its wearer. Yet Azcheron had no doubt the person inside was a man. His posture, his size and frame, everything told of a masculine figure. He was holding a sword, and Azcheron tensed up, noticing the man''s grip tightening slightly when he spotted the group.

    A thought was itching at the back of Azcheron''s mind. He confirmed his suspicions when he examined more carefully the golem. It wasn''t untouched. There was a single hole in the middle of the torso. He remembered Yorl pointing at this particular spot.

    That was were the golem''s core was supposed to be. The hole and the knight''s blade were of the exact same width. Azcheron immediately dispelled his sight magic. He had a feeling he might need his mana.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Great. This feels like one of these badly written stories. When the protagonist''s party encounters a potential threat, while his own power is restrained or weakened. No way I''ll fall for this plot device ! This guy''s obviously skilled, but if he really is an enemy I''ll play it safe and just murder him immediately.

    The group stopped at a safe distance from the golem''s corpse and the mysterious man. The knight stood up and waved at them.

    ¡°Hello. What a coincidence, meeting people here ! ''Tis not the most popular destination for leisure trips,¡± he said, speaking through his helmet.

    He speaks Common ? So he''s probably from the Empire or the north. Maybe he''s an Imperial knight. Did he guess we were from the Empire by seeing our clothes ? But he''s right, this place is not a mere vacation location. Why is he here ?

    Azcheron stepped forward. ¡°Good day ! A curious coincidence, as you say. It appears we also have the same hobbies. Golem hunting ?¡± He pointed to the pile of rocks.

    The knight''s head tilted. ¡°Why, of course. What else is there to do here ?¡± He jumped off from the golem, landing on the sand.

    ¡°Indeed, there isn''t much to do.¡± Azcheron squinted his eyes.

    This knight is so fishy it''s not even funny. Is he alone ? Doesn''t he have a mount ?

    ¡°Yes... This place would make us crave for any distraction, really. Did you witness the large explosion that occurred yesterday, not far from here ? It''s the reason I came back here, in fact. I was hoping it had attracted more golems for my hunt ! Sadly there''s only one of my first victims.¡± He nonchalantly motioned to the rocks behind him.

    Should I tell him about our explosives ? It could dissuade him from trying anything stupid, or it could make us look threatening enough for him to do something brash... There''s no way to know. I''ll try to play it off as something mundane.

    ¡°As it happens, we are the culprits. We were... distracting ourselves from boredom, I suppose ? I hope it didn''t inconvenience you, err...¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± He took a few seconds to take his helmet off. ¡°Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself.¡±

    The helm revealed a surprisingly ordinary face. His features were manly enough, without being too defined or rough. Unremarkable eyes, normal complexion and dark brown hair. He must have been around thirty years old. The only thing that struck Azcheron was the large confident smirk plastered on the knight''s face.

    Yorl gasped. Azcheron glanced at the group but aside from Yorl, nobody was reacting in an intriguing way. Erin seemed tense, though. Like Azcheron, she probably felt that the man''s presence here was very odd.

    ¡°I am known as Oscar. Perhaps you''ve heard of me.¡±

    Azcheron raised a brow. Yes, he had heard of this man. Unfortunately, he had heard of this man.

    Now he understood Yorl''s reaction. The scholar probably saw him once in the capital. Another quick look at the group told him that everyone else also knew of this name. Because they behaved as if they were about to draw their swords.

    The reason was simple. Oscar was a hero in the Empire. And at the same time, he had the worst reputation a hero could possibly have. Even Anton deemed the guy the greatest jerk the continent had ever seen.

    After all, Oscar was infamous for vile deeds such as stealing achievements and killing other heroes or notorious individuals.

    Well, that''s convenient. I''m not a hero. Yet. And I don''t have any known achievements. Yet. Well in truth, I''m somewhat achieving, at the moment. In the middle of the act of achieving major discoveries in the Desolate Lands. Right, that''s bad. We can''t let him know about our findings regarding the golems.

    In any case, let us not antagonize him. I''ll start with a proper greeting. He may be a professional bastard but he''s still a hero, with connections, ties and whatnot.

    He glanced yet again at Erin and grinned. She made an panicked expression and before she could stop him, he irresponsibly, yet knowingly, wasted mana on sound magic.

    ¡°I AM AZCHERON, THE RAHAL SAINT ! I HAVE INDEED HEARD OF YOU ! IT IS AN HONOUR TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, OSCAR ! YOUR DEDICATION TO PURSUE GLORY SHOULD SERVE AS AN EXAMPLE TO US ALL !¡±

    Oscar made a surprised face, but his smirk promptly came back. It seemed to be more of an amused smirk than a condescending one. ¡°Haha ! My, my... Azcheron, eh ? The pleasure is mine.¡±

    It worked ! Wonderful.

    Though Erin looked horrified. Maybe it was an insensitive thing to say ? Oscar was a rascal and a murderer, after all.

    Oscar carried on. ¡°It''s good to see high-spirited youngsters like you. Especially ones who don''t lose sight of what matters in life ! My ways are suffering from a large misunderstanding nowadays, and I was starting to think that maybe the whole ally of justice thing had became the trend...¡± He sighed in relief. ¡°Thank you, Azcheron. You gave me my confidence back !¡±

    Azcheron''s group seemed somewhat less tense now. It was probably a relief for everyone to know that they were in Oscar''s favour.

    If this whole hero thing didn''t work out, I was thinking of becoming an famous assassin with stool metamorphosis magic, but maybe I should really make my career in politics, flattery and Empire overtaking. Enters a new potential job opportunity, the Imperial Palace !

    Yorl decided to speak up, revelling in worldliness. ¡°Well, it surely is a surprise to meet you here, lord Oscar.¡±

    Oscar stared at the scholar for a bit, before finally remembering who he was. ¡°Ah ! If it isn''t professor Yorl ! What in the world is a famous academician like you doing in this remote wasteland ?¡±

    ¡°Hahaha ! Well, I was thinking that I''d like to visit the dreaded Desolate Lands before I die ! I''m getting old, you know.¡± They both chuckled and indulged in small talk. Yorl adopted a confident attitude, this Yorl was entirely different from the whining one they had to bear with ever since they left the Capital.

    This old guy... I can''t believe it. I''d have buried him in the desert myself had he not found this artefact. Still... even a guy like Oscar isn''t a stranger to these social things, huh ? Well, it matters not.

    Azcheron walked to Erin who was standing a bit farther away. He tried to joke about the situation, while she clearly was in the mood for reprimanding him about his stunt. They were having great banter, from Azcheron''s point of view at least, when they heard it.

    ¡°...and it turned out these golems were built with stone and rocks from houses and walls. Some even had writings on it !¡±

    Yorl. It was Yorl, of course, who else ? Are you kidding me ?

    The Saint was seriously considering offing the stupid scholar right now, but he had spilled too much already. Beheading him would not change anything at this point.

    ¡°Ooh... I reckon you would be bringing back quite the discovery.¡±

    Azcheron froze when he saw Oscar''s face. His expression was different. Colder, he''d say. And it wasn''t just his face, his whole posture was different. As if...

    This is bad, he thought, and his worries were confirmed when he saw in the corner of his eye Erin stiffening up. He wasn''t the only one to feel uneasy because of Oscar''s bearing.

    ¡°Mmh ? ''Would'' ? We will, you mean, haha !¡± Yorl said with a troubled voice.

    Shut up ! Stop insisting ! I''ll kill you !

    ¡°I''m afraid you won''t ?¡±

    And Yorl fell on the sand.

    Azcheron''s eyes widened as he saw blood gushing from the scholar throat. Hmm ? Though I thought about it, I don''t think I actually killed him. And I wouldn''t have done it like that. Beheading would be the right way, no ? What''s with this half-hearted job...

    The sound of swords being drawn brought him back to his senses. But when he looked away from Yorl''s convulsing body, Oscar was already thrusting his weapon in Pat''s chest. The sword had pierced through Pat''s steel armour as if it was nothing.

    In the blink of an eye, Azcheron gathered a large quantity of his mana in a sphere, a mana orb. The spell flew straight at Oscar, but he effortlessly dodged it.

    Shit, was the only word Azcheron could think of. No one just ''effortlessly dodged'' a mana orb at full speed. There was too much information coming in. The agility and the reflexes of the man. An enchantment ? Then the stone golem and the armour. What kind of sword could penetrate such materials ?

    Wilhelm staggered, and Azcheron knew that the soldier was already dead before he even collapsed. Oscar just stood here, next to the three bodies, smirking. The Saint figured Erin and him were only alive because they had been talking a bit away from the group.

    He assessed the situation.

    Three dead. I couldn''t even see properly what happened and I wasted mana. He''s fast. Then I''ll need faster magic. Though I can''t just throw things at him and hope it hits, I need to make my spells count. He glanced around. Where are the horses ? Did they run ? There''s not much in terms of escape means, now. So... no choice, we have to fight, heh.

    ¡°I''m sorry, Azcheron. But I can''t really let any of you come back alive from here. Especially if you plan to return with important discoveries. That''ll dim the greatness of my own return. But you understand, right ? I pursue glory above all, so I can''t let you claim these achievements. You will die here and I shall be the one to bring your findings back to the capital.¡±

    This is a bad joke. I get why people say you''re scum, now. Killing everyone because you''re hungry for fame. So predictable. Damn zealot. It''s like you''re the evil version of me. Are you mocking me, is that it !? Hrmpf.

    ¡°Erin,¡± Azcheron called out. ¡°I think it''s time you try out the hardening enchantment I taught you. Or else you won''t be able to block this guy''s strikes.¡±

    ¡°I imagined that much.¡±

    ¡°So I see that you''re a mage, and your friend Erin must be a spellblade, like me. I''m even more sorry then. This is probably not your dream environment for a mortal combat.¡±

    You bet. You''d be already dead if we weren''t in this place. How convenient for you !

    Azcheron drew his longsword with fashion, even if he knew that only Erin would be able to stand up to that man''s skills. Drawing a sword looked cool, Azcheron liked to look cool, and people learning about his tale would enjoy him looking cool. With one hand, he stylishly pointed the tip of his blade toward Oscar, but he was ready to cast a spell with the other.

    Oscar griped his own sword with two hands. ¡°But if you two still intend to struggle, I can only commend you. Azcheron and Erin, fight bravely, and people shall know of our clash when they hear my tale.¡±

    Wha-... How dare you ! Nnnggg...

    His smirk widened even more. ¡°The harder you struggle, the better. I never say no to an epic battle since it''ll end up in my story. Now, I guess this is where they would place the cliffhanger. Give our future listeners a run for their money, will you ?¡±

 29 - The western expedition VII

    ¡°People say that I got where I am today by stealing achievements from others. How mean ! You can''t steal from someone who''s dead. It''s not my fault if the heroes don''t survive their wounds. True, sometimes I''m ''responsible'' for their demise. But hey, knife-throwing and archery can be tricky, everyone can miss once in a while ! And sometimes I''m just ''too late'' and both the dragon and its slayers have already bled to death when I arrive to help. But hey, intentions matter ! I don''t see why I shouldn''t get the glory and congratulations if no one else is there to claim it. I mean, it''s free honour, I''d be stupid not to take it !

    -Oscar, honest hero¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Oscar rushed toward the two. Immediately Erin chanted something and took a low stance, while Azcheron casted a high-velocity fireball.

    But Oscar shouldn''t be able to dodge or stop his course in time. He didn''t try, in fact. Instead, his blade brightened up for a moment and there was a brief high-pitched sound. Before Azcheron knew it, the fireball was flying in his direction.

    He only had enough time to put his arm up and create a crude magic shield before getting blown away, rolling and bouncing against the rough ground. The explosion raised a thick cloud of smoke and dust.

    He gasped and his eyes widened as he tried to get up.

    PAIN. IT HURTS ! Shit. Oh, damn, this is true pain. Did I break my arm or something ?

    ¡°Azcheron !¡± Erin called out, but before Azcheron could think about answering he heard loud metallic noises. She was already fighting off Oscar.

    ¡°I''m okay !¡± he finally replied. Although he wasn''t exactly okay. He couldn''t see why because of the smoke, yet he could definitely feel he really wasn''t okay. But he couldn''t afford to make a sound indicating his state as he heard swords clashing ¨C it wouldn''t do to disturb and worry Erin while she was fighting blindly in the smoke.

    He could hear Oscar taunting them. ¡°Good ! When death visits you, you should always fight it ! Send it on its way back ! Resist ! Struggle ! Make it interesting, or else nobody will remember you !¡±

    Was it a taunt, though ? Azcheron wasn''t sure. The man was probably as honest as one could ever be, in fact.

    ¡°Life''s all about being remembered. Or is it death ? I always mix them up,¡± Oscar concluded.

    The Saint almost felt like laughing. He''d surely do it if Erin wasn''t fighting for her life and if he didn''t feel like his arm had been trampled on by a golem. As the dust cloud slowly dissipated, Azcheron looked at his aching body and grimaced in disbelief.

    Shit. Shit shit shit ! My arm looks seriously weird ! What the heck ! It hurts ! It hurts ! I''m going to die ?! It hurts like hell ! I want to puke. I''m drenched. Because I''m sweating ? No, I''m also bleeding. What, from everywhere ? And what''s this smell ? Is that me ? I really stink !

    He took long but rough and shaky breaths and tried to assess the situation even though he felt he was about to pass away from the pain. With his eyes on the verge of tears he could now see, through the smoke, silhouettes and faint glowing streaks of light, hitting steel repeatedly. He could guess from the shadows he saw that Erin was being pushed back with every strike.

    Okay. Okay, calm down, and think. I have to think. What the heck was that ! Some spell-repelling enchantment on his sword ? And now he''s probably using some mana-coating to strengthen his blows. Then when he stabbed through Pat''s armour, some powerful piercing-enhancement magic. Shit, how many spells does this guy have on his sword ?! Either that or it''s only one damn highly advanced spell. It hurts so much I don''t want to fight. What do I do ? I don''t know how we can win.

    It hurts so much I don''t know if I can stay conscious. He''s a strong spellblade, skilled with both sword and magic, it''s obvious. I don''t know if Erin can win against him. And I don''t know how to use my magic in this situation. It hurts so much I don''t want to think anymore.

    I don''t know if we can win.

    For the first time in his entire life, Azcheron felt real, imminent danger.

    * * *

    Erin

    Erin was on the defensive. The pressure Oscar was putting was intense. Her opponent struck fast, hard, and with an insane accuracy, considering the thick dust cloud, even if they were close enough to see each other.

    Her ears were rigging from the clashing of their blades. Each blow made her arms tremble. Oscar''s attacks packed too much power. And her mind wasn''t focused. Is Azcheron hurt ? She kept wondering, but she could not give in to panic.

    A flash came in the corner of her eyes. She dodged and the light grazed her face. What happened to him ? Something warm flowed from her cheek. Another scar ? Hey, my face isn''t a cutting board... An upward blow came. Her bones and muscles creaked as she parried and lost her balance. Crap. She threw herself sideways to avoid another strike. Stop thinking, just dodge and strike. Listening to herself, she got up, avoided a slash and bashed Oscar with the flat of her sword, then kicked him away before he could riposte.

    She caught her breath and glanced at the dents on her weapon. My sword won''t hold with those heavy attacks. How long can I keep the enchantment ?

    She looked up to see Oscar thrusting with one hand. Erin deflected, but he threw a punch with his free hand. Stunned, she fell, sand getting in one of her eye. SHIT ! Instinctively she rolled to the side, just in time to avoid a blade piercing the ground. Alright, she thought as she rose to her feet once again. Alright. I can do this, but where is Azcheron ? She swung heavily with her right, griped her dagger with her left.

    He took the spell head on. She kept pounding Oscar with her sword, but had trouble judging her distance with one eye. Damn, I don''t have the time to think.

    She ended up missing and Oscar elbowed her face. As she staggered, she blindly slashed at his arm with her dagger. It hit something soft, between the joints. Oscar groaned, and Erin caught the glimpse of a foot swinging. Sudden pain in her head, she dropped her sword. There was the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, dripping from her lips.

    Erin came to her senses, only to defend from a overhead slash, breaking her dagger. Now unarmed, she immediately charged and tackled him, then hammered his face with her fists. How''s the taste, she asked in her mind as he spat blood between each slam of her armoured knuckles. But Oscar let out a mesh of a laugh and a cough as he pushed her back. She fell and reached for her sword just in time to block a strike. They came to a stalemate, but the man soon had the advantage. Erin was stuck onto the ground because of Oscar putting all his weight on his blade, which was getting dangerously closer.

    He was too strong and too heavy. Erin watched with dread as the tip of his glowing sword slowly dug into her chest armour. Clenched her teeth as she felt the cold steel slicing through her flesh underneath. Then they heard a high-pitched noise.

    Oscar threw himself to the side as a massive wind blade passed right above them. The dust cloud cleared up from the wind.

    ¡°Erin, move !¡±

    She rolled away, and a volley of magic missiles flew toward Oscar.

    But he deflected every projectile with his blade. Then small pouches were thrown between the two knights, and smoke erupted from it.

    Erin saw the figure of Oscar backing away, so she did the same and retreated with Azcheron. She could finally rub her eye and get the sand out. As they ran through the smoke, Azcheron dropped explosives on the sand. With his left hand, she noticed. He was probably wounded.

    She heard the trail of explosives detonating behind them. More dust clouds would be raised. As they exited the powder-smelling fog, she could clearly see Azcheron''s injuries. She was horrified.

    His right arm was bleeding and covered in large burns. The skin and flesh had melted and he was shaking from the pain. He had bruises and cuts all over his body, probably because of the rocks when he fell.

    It didn''t look like he could use his arm anymore. Could she still call it an arm ? It was a lump of blackened molten flesh. She could see what seemed to be charred bones at some places. It was a wonder he was able to concentrate enough to cast the wind blade, let alone manage to stand up, refrain from screaming his lungs out or simply stay conscious.

    What the heck was that fireball, Azcheron ? She glanced back to the cloud behind them. And how did that guy repelled it ?

    As if reading her mind, he addressed her concerns.

    ¡°He''s using some kind of complex enchantment. His blade can deflect spells and has a few other... boons. How''s the melee ?¡±

    ¡°Looks like you''re right. His blows are awfully heavy and damaging, even with my spell. I don''t think I can win against him by myself. We''ll need your magic, and... I know it''s a stupid question, but are you okay ?¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°I''ll survive. I think. The wounds, at least.¡± He didn''t seem very sure. ¡°Don''t know about surviving that guy, though. What about you ?¡± He observed the blood dripping from Erin''s side.

    ¡°It''s a superficial cut, I can still move well enough.¡± It was a small lie. The wound was probably deep, but not as hindering as Azchron''s. ¡°Can you heal yourself ?¡±

    ¡°...I''ll seriously run out of mana at this rate. I''m using magic to dull the pain a bit, but I can''t afford to do more if I want to be of any use.¡± He grimaced.

    In the distance, they saw Oscar calmly pursuing them. The smirking bastard waved.

    ¡°Right... Can you think of something ? I don''t know how much time I can buy you but I''ll do my best to keep him busy while you find a way to save us.¡±

    ¡°I wonder if that''s even necessary... Look.¡± Azcheron pointed a shivering finger toward their opponent who was keeping a slow pace even though he could probably easily catch up to them. Oscar''s wounds weren''t as bad as theirs. ¡°He''s polite enough to let us discuss a strategy, at least¡±

    Surprisingly, Oscar replied. ¡°I''m letting you two regroup and talk because it builds dramatic tension. Makes for a more enthralling and flamboyant story, meaning more glory for me. I could just make it all up, but nothing beats reality when it comes to... realism, haha !¡±

    ¡°He could hear us ?¡± she wondered.

    Azcheron frowned. ¡°Sound magic, huh ?¡±

    Is he mocking us ? He''s acting like a villain from a novel. Taunting the protagonists, letting your opponent regroup and whatnot, that''s something only people like Azcheron would do... I''d never have thought that there was be someone even more annoying than him when it comes to theatrics and crap like that.

    So, should we keep running ? But Azcheron doesn''t look like he can manage a faster pace, and there''s no saying when Oscar may decide to attack.

    Azcheron froze suddenly. Erin turned back and sent him a quizzical look. Why was he stopping ? Why here and now ? But the Saint wasn''t looking at Erin, he was looking far in the horizon. Cold sweat ran on her nape.

    ¡°Don''t tell me it''s what I''m thinking. Please don''t tell me it''s them.¡±

    From here, Erin could see not only Azcheron grimacing, but also Oscar, looking in the same direction. Frowning and gritting his teeth.

    No doubt then.

    She glanced to the side. Yes, she expected to find a golem or two in the distance. What she caught sight of was much worse.

    Dozens of them.

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Did the battle attract them ? Perhaps it was the explosion from yesterday ? Maybe Oscar did something to draw them here ? No, he doesn''t look too pleased either. He''ll run out of stamina and mana if he fights for too long, he''s still human after all.

    Azcheron''s tired eyes darted back and forth between the golems and Oscar. He wasn''t moving, he just did the same as Azcheron, observing both groups and thinking. How did he get here anyway, didn''t he have a horse ?

    Should I try to make a deal with him, something like a truce to let us fight off the golems together ? But then what ? No way he''d let us escape since he still has the advantage.

    He then stared at the incoming stone giants. They had at least a few minutes before they arrived. But once they were here, it was over. No horse, no hiding place. He glanced at Erin, seeking help. But all he saw was the fear in her eyes.

    That was unusual. Those pretty golden eyes. There wasn''t that kind of expression in them, before. Even when she was surrounded by bandits or by nightmarish bats. Even when they encountered dragons and golems for the first time.

    There had never been despair in her eyes.

    Should we try to flee anyway ? But I can''t do it with my injuries... even without Oscar, this place is dangerous as hell.

    Azcheron closed his eyes and sighed. But Erin could make it. Should I go with the altruistic hero route ? He wondered to himself. I can probably buy her time. Something flashy... I''ll sacrifice myself with a cool line for instance... If I can stall for time, she can do it. If it''s Erin, yes. She can survive this shit-hole.

    He looked again at Erin. He must have been making a very sad expression, because she answered him before he even made his suggestion.

    ¡°I''m not leaving without you. I''m not going back. Not without you.¡±

    Azcheron simply smiled. Many thoughts surged in his mind, but for now there was only one that mattered.

    ¡°To the death, then. Unless we figure something out.¡±

    She nodded.

    No despair left in the golden eyes. Was it even here in the first place ? They seemed radiant now. Azcheron made up his mind. He''d live another day, and many after that, to be able to see these golden irises, again and again.

    With his valid arm, he wiped the blood and the sweat drenching his face.

    Think. Think. Think. What do I have, what can I use ? I have Erin. I have my magic, even if not much is left. I can have the golems if I want. Yes.

    Azcheron made a mental image of the golems. He tried to think about the direction they were coming from, the area he and Oscar were.

    Right now, we could use the golems. Depending on how we play it, they''ll either be our doom or our lifesavers. If we can''t kill Oscar, then make the golems kill him. If we can''t escape, then use them as a distraction. It''ll be easy to mess up though, and we''ll die. I should concentrate on Oscar for now. If we can beat him before the golems arrive, we have a chance. Leave him half-dead so that they''ll rush toward him or something.

    He locked his eyes on the enemy knight.

    Okay, once again. What do we know, and what can we do ?

    We have numbers on our side. It''s the most basic strategy, but numbers are always important. Even Oscar would have trouble dealing with two enemies at the same time. Shit, I would have killed the guy twenty times already, made the whole area explode or something, if only there was mana in this damn desert ! So the question is, how do I make myself useful in these circumstances ?

    Azcheron''s gaze wandered on the enchanted sword. Dancing around the pummel, the grip, the blade, searching for anything that could help him.

    He only triggers his enchantments when his sword hits or blocks, as to avoid wasting mana. Meaning that in the long run, compared to me who has already spent quite a bit, Oscar will win, even if I should have a larger mana pool than him. He also looks like he has abnormal eye-sight and reflexes, so we might assume he could have another enchantment on him.

    Now eyes closed, he pictured what little he had witnessed of Oscar''s ability. The magic being countered, the fight he glimpsed at through the smoke, the retreat.

    He''ll easily dodge or deflect my magic no matter how accurate my spells are. I could cast a powerful enchantment on Erin''s blade, but I don''t know what will happen if Oscar blocks it with his own repelling spell. Actually, there''s no guarantee it''s only limited to his sword... For all I know he could use this thing like a regular spell, and he''s just tricking us into thinking that it''s an enchantment on his weapon. I see you ! Sneaky bastard ! Think you can outsmart the damn Saint !?

    Though I have no evidence about what he can or can''t do, eh.

    Something came back to his mind. Or do I ?

    He spoke to Erin with sound magic, not wanting to risk Oscar eavesdropping.

    ¡°Is his armour enchanted ?¡±

    ¡°Err... I don''t think so. It looks like a normal plate armour to me. It''s his sword and his own enhanced body we have to be wary of.¡±

    Looking at the horizon, he assumed they had maybe two or three minutes before the golems arrived.

    ¡°Can you beat him if you don''t have to worry about defending ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know... Do you have a plan ?¡±

    ¡°Yes. Focus on offence, I''ll support you with spells.¡±

    ¡°What ? Aren''t you afraid he''ll deflect everything ? Do you have enough mana left anyway ? And what about the golems after that ?¡±

    ¡°There''s no time. Do you trust me ?¡±

    She nodded.

    ¡°Then go. If the golems are here before it''s over, well...¡± He shrugged and gave a wry smile. ¡°It''ll indeed be over.¡±

    Without saying a word, she charged toward Oscar. He noticed her immediately and took a stance.

    Earlier when I threw a wind blade he opted for dodging instead of blocking. So at least that means his armour can''t do shit against magic. Then why did he release Erin and dodged ? Is a large wind blade harder to repel because of its wide area of effect ? Or is it because it would be a waste of mana ? Either way that would be convenient for me. I need a spell that he''d rather dodge, I don''t want my magic being deflected and hitting Erin.

    The Saint stopped dulling his senses with magic, because he needed all the mana he could spare. The pain from his arm became once again abominable, but he had to endure it. He had to concentrate. Thankfully, he wasn''t going to cast any difficult spell.

    Azcheron took a gamble and created two small wind blades. It was one of the most basic spells, not requiring much from the user, so it was the perfect magic for this situation, because he had to keep his last bits of mana for the golems after that.

    The two spells reached Oscar before Erin came in range. It was hard to judge the size of a wind blade, so the hero would probably have no time to realize these ones could be easily repelled. And if he did, he''d think it wasn''t worth it. As Azcheron hoped, Oscar dodged.

    Good. This is it. We can do this.

    The man regained his footing just in time to receive Erin''s attack. It made him stagger, and she kept hammering him. But she was wounded and tired, and it got weaker and weaker.

    He blocked every blow and was about to riposte, so Azcheron casted another blade. Oscar stepped sideways, and Erin thrusted, aiming for the head.

    Oscar avoided it by a hair''s breadth, but once again had to dodge a wind blade just after. He succeeded by twisting his body, but as a consequence it seemed he lost his balance. Erin followed with a heavy strike. He tried to defend, but it must have been too much for him. His weapon was sent flying as he fell on the ground.

    Oscar grimaced as he grabbed Erin''s sword with his hands, before she could bury it in his face with a downward slash. Her blade was dulled and somewhat blunt, and Oscar''s gauntlets were thick, but even then, with the weight and the speed of the blow, it was obvious that he broke quite a few bones in his hands and fingers with this stunt.

    Erin glanced at Azcheron, she probably hadn''t much strength left. The instant he saw them locked in this position, the Saint casted the fastest spell that came to mind. A high-velocity fireball, ironically. Erin backed away at the last moment, and Oscar raised his arms to protect himself.

    ¡°Nnngggrrrh !?¡± he groaned as the sudden blast of flames tossed him away, rolling on the ground.

    What''s that sound ? It''s dear Oscar. How delectable. The whimper of pain from the man almost made Azcheron forget the agony from his own hideously wounded arm.

    Once again, the explosion created a thick, dark cloud, and Azcheron threw a small volley of wind blades in it, for good measure. Then that was all, he now had only enough left for a few golems.

    He called out to Erin as she went into the smoke. ¡°Is he dead ?¡± Though she would probably have trouble knowing because of the poor visibility.

    There was a metallic sound and a moan. That was Oscar. Another clashing noise. ¡°Shit !¡± That was Erin.

    Are they still fighting ? This guy, why won''t he die !? We don''t have all day ! Azcheron turned his gaze to the horizon. ...Right. There''s no time for Oscar anymore. We have to disappear regardless.

    ¡°Erin, we''re leaving !¡±

    Soon enough, Erin came out of the smoke. ¡°I think he escaped by now. He managed to find his sword. But he must be wounded, that''s for sure,¡± she finally said with a tinge of anger.

    As they ran, Azcheron glanced back, and noticed something exiting the smoke. It was Oscar, indeed fleeing in the other direction. He was struggling to keep a fast pace, and looked very injured. One of his arms was charred black, and part of his armour had melted. He wasn''t smirking anymore.

    Serves you right, hehe. Damn bastard.

    But Azcheron''s glee was short lived. There was no time to rejoice, their battle wasn''t over yet.

    The golems were here.

 30 - The western expedition VIII

    ¡°Ever ran out of mana ? Not the funniest thing in the world, I tell you. It''s like having a really really bad hangover, with all the customary nausea, headache and grogginess. On top of muscle cramps, shivering, fever, ringing ears and whatnot. Well it''s bad enough to make you think about suicide sometimes. Of course you end up blacking out, especially if you''re not used to the feeling. Good news ! These nice symptoms stay for a while even after you wake up ! No need to tell you why mana-drain is our favourite spell for the questioning of enemies mages...

    -military intelligence magician¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    Shit shit shit shit.

    ¡°Why are there so many !?¡±

    Erin was running as fast as she could while supporting a faltering Azcheron. A handful of golems were chasing them. Needless to say, the stone giants were much faster than them. But Azcheron was dealing with them in any way he could.

    He glanced back once again. Erin could hear the sound of crushed rocks. Another golem had been disposed of. She wasn''t even that worried about the golems. Was she loosing her mind ? No, the threat was indeed here, but Azcheron would take care of it. Like always.

    ¡°Erin,¡± he said in an almost silent voice.

    She kept running, not sure if she heard something because of the stomping noises.

    ¡°Erin, listen.¡± She turned her head and realized he was in a really bad state. Empty eyes and saliva running on his chin. ¡°I''ll have to burden you soon.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ?¡± she asked, panicked.

    A golem came from the side. Azcheron flickered his wrist, and a small chunk of the golem''s leg disappeared in a tiny sphere of light. The stone giant crumbled on the sand and tried to crawl, no longer able to stand. It had been going on like that for a while. They had quickly used up all their explosives ¨C most were given to Nathaniel and Baestar ¨C so Azcheron had to use his magic early on to neutralize the golems. The amount of mana he used to make the golems fall was ridiculously small, but it was all he had left.

    ¡°I''ll probably pass out once the adrenaline wears off,¡± he said, confirming that he was at his limit.

    Erin looked behind them. There were still a couple of pursuers. She noticed, even farther in the distance, another group of golems. Probably chasing Oscar. Would he survive or end up being stomped to death, she couldn''t know. But she honestly wouldn''t be surprised if he managed to escape, even with his burns and broken bones. Rather, she''d almost find it strange if he didn''t. That was to say how much of an opponent he was. What about Erin and Azcheron''s escape then ?

    I can do it. I''ll save us. There''s no way we''re dying here. Not here, not now. We didn''t beat the shit out of Oscar just to get stomped on by these dumb oversized puppets.

    ¡°Don''t worry. Leave it to me.¡±

    ¡°Heh... That line is stylish.¡± He turned his head and shortly after, Erin could hear the golems getting crippled by the mana orbs. Then the stomping came to a stop. ¡°I think I read it somewhere in a book ? Eh... Don''t know which one...¡±

    ¡°Probably one of Anton''s. Hey ! Didn''t you say they all were cheesy and uninspired ?¡± Erin asked.

    She casted her gaze on the stone remnants, barely moving. Nothing was really chasing them anymore, but they kept running nonetheless, just in case.

    The Saint didn''t answer. ¡°Azcheron ?¡±

    Then he suddenly collapsed. Erin managed to catch him before he fell and cracked his skull on some random rock. ¡°Azcheron ! Wake up !¡± But he was unconscious, and didn''t look like he would open his eyes anytime soon.

    Is this what happen when you deplete all your mana ? Or is it because of the injuries ?

    She examined his arm once again. It seemed worse than before. The burnt flesh was emitting a foul stench and now the wounds were dirtied with sand and dust. Pus everywhere. His whole body was drenched in blood and sweat. He had many small bruises and cuts everywhere. She didn''t think too much about it before because they were busy fighting and escaping, but now it was obvious.

    Be it from shock, blood loss or infection, he''d end up dying at this rate. After surviving Oscar and the golems, he''d die. In her arms.

    Shit. Shit ! Why don''t I know some magic !?

    No time to lose, she had to act quickly. Without anything at hand to treat him, not even water ¨C most of their belongings were strapped to the horse, who ran somewhere ¨C there was only one thing to do. She gritted her teeth and carried Azcheron. She had to carry him. The weight and the distance didn''t matter. Her being also injured and extenuated didn''t matter.

    She''d carry him until they arrived at the camp. There, they could at least clean him and dress his wounds. Perhaps Nathaniel or Baestar knew some healing magic, who knew ?

    She could only hope. Hope was the last defence before despair. Walking on the white cold sand for hours, she could only cling to the tiniest hope if she wanted to ignore the pain, the fatigue and the fear.

    You won''t die, right ? Tell me you won''t die...

    You can''t die here, after all. Because you have so many things to do. What will you do if you die before you find out about your clan !

    You can''t die, you''d be the laughing stock of all those nobles ! You can''t die, not before you have that spar with Darius.You promised him. You can''t die. Not after dragging me here. You can''t leave me alone.

    Look how much of a hassle this is ! So much sweat, it''s getting into my eyes.

    It''s all blurry. It''s all your fault, so please...

    Don''t leave me alone.

    Don''t die. I forbid you.

    * * *

    NathanielStolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Eh... Is it palace ? Or castle. No, I''m sure it''s palace.¡± Nathaniel sighed. ¡°Hah... If only I had my lexicon...¡±

    He stood up and dusted off his clothes. ¡°Well, it''s the word for the king''s house, no doubt,¡± he said to Isabella as if asking her opinion.

    She shrugged. ¡°I wouldn''t know.¡±

    Of course you wouldn''t. You mercenaries are indifferent and uncaring people after all. Hah... What''s a bit of glory and money when there are such astonishing things to discover ? He complained in his mind, staring at the carvings on the stone.

    He went to sit next to Baestar. His group came back an hour ago, rather disappointed, though not empty-handed. It turned out the strange golem was made of something akin to obsidian. Once again, no magic was left in the rocks, so there was no way to know if it only owed its resilience to explosions to the materials.

    Well, it didn''t matter much to Nathaniel. He was interested in the western culture, not in geology or whatever. Though info on the strange golem could have casted some light on their origin and purpose.

    ¡°Aren''t they taking too long¡± ? Baestar asked, pulling Nathaniel away from his thoughts.

    ¡°They should arrive any time now. We don''t know what they may have found, so perhaps they are taking their time,¡± Caspar said from behind while scouting the horizon. Baestar had casted sight magic on him.

    ¡°True...¡±

    They had to thank the Academy. Learning that vision spell was the norm for the scholars here : unsurprisingly, there had been too many cases of myopia and deteriorated sight among the Academy''s employees, so some had no choice.

    A lifetime of studying scrolls and grimoires by the candlelight will do that to you.

    Though one could rightfully wonder if overusing this eye-straining spell would not bring worse consequences.

    The group fell silent and Nathaniel went back to his scribblings once again.

    Even after hours of studying, the only thing he managed to learn for now was that there was a mention of the king''s palace. Or castle. Surely it was palace, but maybe both were the same in this language ?

    This western language is a real pain, sometimes... I should have taken the Dragon tongue classes back then, instead... That old teacher, what''s his name, with his moustache... He sure has a lot of students nowadays. Seems like everyone goes to him for lessons. Even that youngster Azcheron.

    ¡°Hey, someone''s coming.¡±

    Speak of the devil ? I wonder what took so long. I can already imagine Yorl''s idiotic grin.

    ¡°Eh... Isn''t there something strange ?¡±

    Nathaniel got up and blurted out a small incantation, then gazed in the distance with his vision spell. True, the group seemed... thiner ? Smaller ? As if they had no horses. Why, though ? As the returnees approached, Nathaniel obtained his answer quickly thanks to his sight magic.

    Something happened. Because out of the five that went there, only two came back. The group rode toward Erin as fast as they could once they understood that there was a problem.

    As Nathaniel approached her, he was met with a frightening, alarming sight. Azcheron was unconscious and being carried. He had bloodcurdling injuries all over him, and his arm was in an especially bad shape. It was no arm at all, at this point.

    The heck ! What happened ? And where are the others !?

    But it was Erin herself that scared him the most. She looked like a ghost. Pale and weary, drenched in blood in sweat. Nathaniel noticed a large gash under her pierced breastplate.

    Did she carry him in this state, all the way from there ?

    Yet behind half-closed tired eyelids, her irises were burning with an eerie fire. Was it a will of steel, or simply madness ? Nathaniel could not fathom.

    Of course they didn''t stand here doing nothing like oafs, and helped the two wounded as soon as they dismounted. There was no time to lose. Answers could wait, but Azcheron wouldn''t. He looked like he had already one foot in the grave. More like, he had already everything but a single hair in the grave.

    How come he''s still alive ? And what could have caused such a situation ?

    Nathaniel and the others could guess that Yorl, Pat and Wilhelm were dead. Whatever managed to put Azcheron and Erin in this condition would surely be enough to kill any normal person.

    Erin stared at Azcheron. ¡°Treat him,¡± she said in a pained voice. ¡°Then we have to leave this place quickly.¡±

    Baestar complied and used magic to clean his wounds. Neither him not Nathaniel knew anything about healing arts, but the mercenaries could patch him up at the camp. At least well enough for him to survive the return trip to the fortress.

    Erin''s words echoed in Nathaniel''s mind. He didn''t need to know why they had to ''leave this place quickly''. The sight of these two was enough to convince him.

    They spent the night here, Azcheron and Erin''s wounds were summarily treated, and the group departed at first light.

    * * *

    The journey toward the east took a week. The mounts were heavily burdened. Not only did they lost four horses because of Oscar, so there wasn''t enough of them for everyone, but they also had to carry the carved stones. Or else the expedition and the three deaths would have been all for naught.

    Still, they advanced surprisingly fast despite all this. Azcheron hadn''t awoken yet, but it was probably for the best. Nathaniel couldn''t dare to imagine the pain one would feel because of such injuries. Though the young mage was in a critical state, they had no choice but to transport him by horse. It was dangerous, but always preferable to a certain death if they stayed in the desert, away from any medical care. The healers at the fortress would probably be able to stabilize him.

    They are elite mages trained for healing people fighting dragons, after all. I don''t know what they can do about his arm, but at least they should manage to save his life.

    Of course, everyone must have had certain thoughts about the situation, and Nathaniel was no exception. There was the temptation to hold Azcheron and Erin responsible for the deaths of Pat, Yorl and Wilhelm. Nathaniel didn''t particularly like Yorl, but he had to admit he respected the old man as a researcher, for his experience and dedication. The mercenaries however, they must have liked Pat and Wilhelm. Caspar and Rudolph didn''t seem to care much about the whole thing, but Isabella and Jeffrey were clearly affected by the news. They were colleagues at least, comrades and friends at best. Naturally, there was tension, and Nathaniel was almost expecting someone to try to get on with it and slit Azcheron''s throat or something.

    But when Erin explained what had happened, things calmed down. Everyone knew of Oscar and his supposedly awful personality. The mere thought that the guy was lurking in the desert made Nathaniel shiver. He couldn''t bring himself to blame only Azcheron for the loss of three people. Even if his decision to split up was careless, everyone agreed with him, and no one could have expected Oscar to just show up, and in the end they even fought him off. That was a feat. Oscar was a bastard and a murderer, yes, but he murdered heroes, not random bums.

    They all understood, to some extent. They kept it to themselves, but surely some still felt anger and resentment. Yes, if they could stand up to Oscar and fend him off, then why didn''t they do it before he killed their comrades ? If Azcheron was supposed to be a powerful mage capable of battling stone golems, why didn''t he use his magic sooner ? Was he playing around again, as he did with the explosives and the golems ? If Erin was that skilled of a knight, why didn''t she protect anyone ? She could cross a damn desert with fatigue and injuries just for that one guy, but she couldn''t do anything against a lone enemy ? They probably thought things like that.

    But showdown and drama would wait until they were safe, in the fortress. And there was still the possibility that Azcheron would die before that. Perhaps some of the mercenaries were hoping for it.

    Understandable, Nathaniel thought, half trying to justify his own mixed feelings.

    As they were climbing the slope leading into the mountains, Azcheron fell off Erin''s horse. Something breaking could be heard as his body dropped on the hard ground. Nathaniel watched with unease as everyone, except Erin, just witnessed the scene without a single care in the world. Erin wordlessly dismounted, carried the unconscious Azcheron and struggled to put him back on her horse, only Rudolph bothered to eventually help her. She examined his body briefly before resuming riding.

    All in the most painful, freezing silence. What was an awkward sight at first became truly oppressive. Nobody dared to look at Erin in the eye. Some of these people would probably never be able to work together again.

    The group decided to return through the valley. It was the shortest route. And Erin insisted it was the least dangerous. Because the dragon sleeping here had already acknowledged them, she said. They owed it to Azcheron, she said. They should be glad he was still breathing because else there was no guarantee the dragon would let them pass, she said.

    Regardless of the reason, she''s right. Better the dragon you know that the dragon you don''t. Is that the saying ? I''m not sure.

    As they walked the ground covered in rocks and gravel, they tried to be as stealthy as they could. Just in case. They expected a roar or something, but nothing happened.

    ¡°Stop cowering. They''ll let us pass,¡± Erin said in a cold voice.

    How the heck would she know ? Nathaniel wanted to ask, but he already had his answer. Azcheron, somehow, was regarded by the dragons. What would have happened if, as Erin pointed out, he''d have died before they arrived ?

    A quick glance around told him that everyone felt awkward. Deep down Nathaniel still had the worry that someone angry would act up once they were away from here and safe. Hopefully, time would dim the resentment, even if some scars would never fade from the minds gathered here.

    Soon, the nervousness and uneasiness let place to relief. The western fortress came to sight as they exited the valley.

 31 - The western expedition IX

    ¡°WALK. HAPPY. !!!. INTRUDERS. SAD. STOMP STOMP STOMP. !!!. HAPPY. WALK. WATCH SAND. PRETTY. EAT. HAPPY. WALK. WATCH SAND. EAT. HAPPY.

    -golem¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°...¡±

    Faint, muted sounds in the distance. Words ?

    ¡°...now.¡±

    ¡°Shut up !¡±

    ...What ? Oh, was I sleeping ?

    Who''d be rude enough to wake the Saint ? Azcheron''s neck felt cold. The wind or something ? They were rude and they left the window open ? Thinking about reaching for his feathered coat, he tried to move.

    But his body felt heavy, and suddenly everything ached. Drowsiness and intense pain from his arm.

    Ah, that''s right. So... We escaped ? I wouldn''t be alive if we didn''t.

    ¡°He''s awake ?¡± a low voice mumbled next to him.

    ¡°Gghh...¡± he tried to speak but his tongue felt furred and sticky. Bile crept up in his throat. An overall horrible sensation engulfed his whole body.

    Oh... I heard about that from Anton. So I did end up depleting all my mana... Who would have guessed ? Well, there''s a first time for everything, eh.

    Fighting against the grogginess and the nausea, he slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry and twisting but he could grasp the important parts. He was in a bed of some sort. In a rather large room, that reminded him of an infirmary.

    The fortress then... We made it back, indeed. Well done, knight Verald ! His eyes darted and spotted the red-haired girl immediately. Speak of the devil.

    Erin was standing at the other side of the room. There were many people with her. Perhaps they came to witness his glorious awakening after braving so many dangers. Since when was Azcheron so important, though ?

    ¡°...¡±

    Again, muffled voices and sentences he had trouble understanding. He forced himself to focus, and after some moments he could hear Erin''s voice.

    ¡°Good morning, Azcheron. Please don''t make any sudden movement.¡±

    Because I''m injured ?

    ¡°Keep calm. Don''t worry.¡±

    Wait, what. Oh, shit. Now I''m worried. Did you amputate my arm or something ! Am I disfigured ? And here I was, thinking I''d remain so handsome for the many years to come !

    But a glance at his body told him his arm was still here, under the fur cover. It seemed to be mostly following standard human regulation. Proper size and shape. And he managed to move what he assumed to be his fingers. He couldn''t check but he thought his face didn''t feel too weird. What then ? And why were all the people in the room geared up like they were ready for battle ? Even Erin was in armour. Was there a dragon attack !? He heard again the low voice next to him, so he turned his head to see who it was. Acute pain under his chin. That was when he understood the cold feeling on his neck. A blade. Held by a man with an angry expression.

    Okay. A very comfy way to start the day. Still better than a limb removal though !

    As he focused on the people trespassing in his infirmary, meaning his sleeping quarters, he distinguished two groups, gathered around Erin on one side, and the man with the dagger on the other side. He''d much prefer to be on Erin''s side but the situation seemed somewhat tense and it''d probably be inappropriate to voice this request.

    Now, what kind of trouble am I buried into ? He wondered, trying to identify the people who seemed to be using him as an hostage of some sort. They all were soldiers from the fortress judging by their attire. A mutiny, perhaps ?

    ¡°Don''t get any closer, now,¡± the man said. ¡°Especially you, Erin Verald. Don''t try anything funny.¡±

    Azcheron stared at Erin and gave her a smug expression as to say ''what are you going to do about that, huh ?''

    ¡°Don''t worry, Azcheron. Nothing for you to be concerned about. You should get back to sleep. It''ll soon be over,¡± she said like she was answering his silent mockery. She sounded extremely cold and angry, looking daggers at the man ironically holding a dagger against Azcheron''s jugular. The last time he saw her like that was when she was thinking of committing manslaughter ¨C when she just had a meeting with her family.

    The dozen of guys threatening Azcheron also seemed very angry and excited. In spite of that, the other soldiers on Erin''s side were uneasy and hesitant. Surely they weren''t keen on killing their comrades, even if they were committing mutiny.

    Might be wise to reach a peaceful outcome. I don''t now if the army would really enjoy seeing outsiders executing their own problem children... And I still don''t know the whole story. I don''t hate guys defying authority as long as it''s not mine, so I''ll refrain from beheading everyone today. Let''s not give Erin the pleasure of dirtying the whole room with blood either, and solve this like adults. Now, I can''t really talk. Should I use magic ?

    Azcheron gathered mana and tried to produce vibrations in the air, but it required too much concentration. With his body aching and the after-effects of emptying his mana, he had only a poor control over raw mana.

    Nnngg... I''ll just knock the guy unconscious and get on with it. He''s rubbing sharp steel against my jugular after all, so I don''t see why I should act polite.

    The Saint created a mana blast and aimed for the man. There was a deflagration, a red flash, and a low-pitched echo, as if a cannonball just flew past him. Weird, Azcheron thought, his mind still clouded. But the man collapsed on the ground as intended.

    Or, his lower half was on the ground. Azcheron frowned.

    Where''s the other half ?

    Noticing the horrified looks of everyone present, and the large hole in the ceiling, and the bits of flesh, guts and blood randomly arranged in the vicinity, he came to the realization.

    Did I fail to even adjust the power of the blast ? Ugh... What''s with this magical hangover ? It''s supposed to last a few days, it''ll be such a pain.

    He sighed once he saw the faces of the mutineers distorting into grimaces of hatred and bloodlust. However he did nothing as they turned their blades toward him and rushed to his bed.

    Hmm, but if I''m a hostage, why would you kill me ? Well, it doesn''t matter.

    The soldier at the very back of the group had now the tip of a sword exiting his eye-socket. Then, the next one found his head detached from his torso. It went on like that while Erin wordlessly carved her way through the group approaching Azcheron. A hand flying, a man sliced in two. Then a chunk of cranium found its way to his bed.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    The blood-soaked covers and sheets felt strangely warm and comfortable. Already he was feeling sleepy. Was it because he used magic while he was recovering ? As his slowly closing eyes gazed at the last falling figures, he heard Erin''s voice gradually fading.

    ¡°Azcheron !¡±

    ¡°Mhh.¡±

    ¡°...cheron...¡±

    What are you screaming for ? You told be to go back to sleep, so I''ll do just that. Would you be so kind as to protect me from any other mutiny, kidnapping, assassination and whatnot while I''m resting, thank you...

    * * *

    The pain, once again. But even if he had just woke up, Azcheron hadn''t too much trouble thinking this time. How much time had passed ? He wasn''t feeling like he had half the diseases of the world at the same time anymore.

    Well, I''m still groggy. Water... Erin, water. Looking around, he couldn''t find her. Where are youuu ! Eriiiiiiiin ! Nhhgg...

    Hah, you have to do everything yourself around here, I see.

    He opened his mouth and condensed the humidity in the air. Tiny droplets formed and soon became a small elongated spray. He directed the translucent flow between his lips. It felt so good. He was so thirsty. Did they forget to make him drink while he was asleep or what !

    Azcheron struggled to sit on his bed. He was still very weak. Pulling his right arm from under the blanket, he was met with a bandaged limb. He counted five fingers, one wrist, one forearm, one elbow, and so on. Nothing missing. It was hurting like hell but it seemed normal otherwise. A bit lighter, perhaps he had lost muscle mass ? Azcheron had trouble judging since his entire body felt so heavy, yet so frail.

    With his valid arm he touched his face, making sure nothing was missing here either. Small bruises and whatnot, but he''d still be as handsome once it''d heal. Good, he concluded with a smirk.

    He could make a mirror out of ice or something but it was too much of a pain. He''d go easy on spells for now. He could feel his mana almost entirely replenished, and he had once again access to raw mana, but even that would strain his mind. He didn''t want to pass out because of a mere spell like the previous time.

    At some point, a mage came into the infirmary to check up on him. A few questions and tests later, he left to come back shortly after with Erin.

    She greeted him with a warm smile. ¡°How are you feeling ?¡±

    Azcheron suddenly felt like teasing her. Let''s see, what would usually happen in Anton''s crappy novels ? Perhaps this... Oh, that would be mean. Only a jerk would do that. Alas Azcheron was a jerk. He faked an uneasy and surprised expression.

    ¡°...Who... Who are you ?¡±

    He regretted immediately his bad joke when Erin''s smile crumbled into the darkest thing he ever saw. Was she sad because she fell for it ? He didn''t speak when he woke up the first time but it wasn''t as if he had acted confused or something ! Was she angry because she saw through him ? Azcheron didn''t wait for an answer and clarified the situation promptly.

    ¡°IT''S A JOKE ! I''m joking !¡±

    She then appeared even more terrifying. Maybe she was angry now.

    ¡°Erin Verald, ex-mercenary, Imperial knight, saviour of my life, it was a joke, please forgive my poor humour, I''m truly sorry, please don''t kill me,¡± he said, blurting the words as fast as he could.

    Erin grimaced. How scary could she get ? Frowning and doing weird things with her cheeks.

    Ah, I get it. She''s... pouting ? Trying, at least.

    They kept silent for a while.

    It was the first time he really regretted something. Even when he realized how dangerous was his playing around with Koven, or summoning of hell-bats in the Academy, he just shrugged it off as a careless mistake. Yet not once he ever felt like going back in time to change something. Until now.

    While lost in thought, Azcheron found himself embraced by Erin. He returned the squeeze.

    ¡°Congratulations for saving me. And thank you,¡± he eventually whispered.

    He could feel her nodding. ¡°It was a hassle. Hope I''ll never have to do it again.¡±

    Azcheron snorted. ¡°It depends. Was the expedition successful ?¡±

    They separated and Erin began to explain what had happened during the last two weeks. They managed to bring back most of Nathaniel''s precious stones, and the runic thing Yorl spoke of. Other than physical evidence of western civilization, they had Baestar''s data and a crap-load of new theories regarding the desert, the golems, and the fall of whatever society existed here before.

    Considering that, the price they had to pay was meagre. Azcheron''s arm was mostly healed by the fortress'' mages, even though he''d never be able to learn swordsmanship anymore, or any other sort of martial art for that matter. He wouldn''t be inconvenienced in his everyday life, but aside from that, highly physical activities would never be the same again. Good thing he was a mage then. He laid back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

    Three dead. Out of eleven people, only three casualties. Taking into account the unexpected hurdle that was Oscar, and our sizeable gains, we did really well... And I got to meet a dragon.

    ...Trials, huh. Could it be that it knew we''d meet Oscar ? Maybe the warnings weren''t for show... In any case I''m certain this won''t be enough to have a chat the dragon again. No yet. I need... more.

    He glanced at his arm. Touching the bandages, he noticed something on his left hand. It hurts.

    ¡°Hey. I''m fairly sure this finger wasn''t broken before...¡±

    Erin casted her gaze sideways. ¡°Mmmmh.... Are you sure ? Perhaps you injured it in the fight with Oscar.¡±

    ¡°No... Care to explain ?¡± he tried to sound angry but he couldn''t help but be amused.

    ¡°You, err, fell off my horse.¡±

    How embarrassing !

    ¡°I feel like I''ve been treated rather badly while I was slumbering !¡± he replied. ¡°First you drop me on the ground and let me break my finger, then I wake up to find a dagger held against my neck. You''re such a poor caretaker.¡±

    ¡°Well, sorry.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It''s amazing how you still manage to bring us trouble even when you sleep, you know ?¡±

    Azcheron felt offended. ¡°What ! How is a mutiny my fault ?¡±

    She raised a brow. ¡°Mutiny ? Ah. Guess you wouldn''t understand.¡±

    Erin explained how the death of the expedition members caused tension in the group. Said tension evolved into conflict when some soldiers learned of Pat''s demise. He did mention he knew people here. It turned out that many of his former subordinates were here, among them some that could be considered close friends of his. One thing leading to another, they held Azcheron responsible for the whole blunder, and the Saint simply chose the right moment to wake up.

    ¡°I didn''t expect you to make the guy explode as soon as you were awake, though...¡± she mocked.

    I didn''t expect that either. This is humiliating, I''m supposed to be a master of raw mana...

    ¡°Well of course I would kill him,¡± he said proudly, covering his failure. ¡°''Twas rude of him to press a dagger against my neck. I should have beheaded him but I was sleepy and just went with the easy path.¡±

    ¡°Right...¡± She rolled her eyes. ¡°In any case, things calmed down. Of course, it''s very likely you created another batch of enemies by murdering all these soldiers, but we''ll leave soon so it should be fine.¡±

    I murdered only one and it was justified. Kind of. You''re the one who slaughtered the rest.

    ¡°Is Jormas still here ?¡±

    Erin nodded. ¡°Of course.¡±

    ¡°Oh, so he did wait for us. What a friend.¡± He put his palm on his chest. ¡°How touching.¡±

    ¡°He''s paid for it though.¡± She waved.

    ¡°Bah ! Don''t ruin my storytelling.¡±

    ¡°I''d say we have enough of that storytelling thing to make Oscar himself blush. Think he''s still alive, by the way ?¡±

    ¡°Mmh.¡± He nodded. ¡°I can''t see a guy like that letting a burnt arm and a couple golem stop him... But you know I would have crushed him, had we not met in that shitty desert ? It''s so frustrating.¡±

    ¡°I guess,¡± she replied non-committally. ¡°Would a hero be that easy to kill ?¡±

    Azcheron scratched his chin. ¡°For me, yes. For everyone else, no, I assume famous people like Oscar and Karia would be quite the abominable enemy. Masters like Karlos or Anton too. Well, Roharl is still many steps above everyone.¡±

    I think.

    He fell back into his thoughts. He had been terribly restrained by the environment, but it didn''t necessarily mean that Oscar would be a mundane opponent anywhere else. Maybe he, too, was restricted in his magic. They only won this time because Erin was the pillar, the mainstay of the fight. Anyone else would have been cut down as soon as the battle began...

    He stared at Erin. He really was lucky to have her. It wasn''t just about Oscar. She had been helpful during the whole expedition.

    ¡°What ? Why are you staring ?¡±

    Azcheron disregarded Erin''s question with a smirk and got off his bed. She supported him since he had trouble walking.

    ¡°Hungry ? I feel like I could eat a golem right now.¡±

    They left the infirmary to go to the dining hall.

    About a week later, they departed for the capital.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, having a liking for overused plot devices, depicted the Saint actually waking up with amnesia, therefore triggering unwanted drama and trampling on the readers'' patience.

    History tells of an entirely different truth : Azcheron''s joke was, indeed, just a bad one, as he didn''t lose any memory. Also, no, he never had any sort of evil entity lurking inside him ¨C he would prove plenty of evil on his own ¨C, nor had he ever been teleported away ¨C he may have carelessly or deliberately teleported people away, though ¨C, or any other sort of these common occurrences found in many of Anton''s novels.

    But the story of Azcheron''s abominable real-life take on plot devices shall be spoken another time ¨C what would his tale be like, without it ? ¨C for the story of his scandalous return to the capital is now about to be told.

 32 - Palace plotters

    ¡°The Empire''s government is a centuries old system that already proved its worth. ''Tis basically a pyramid of ranks, with each person dumping things on the people under him. It works really well currently. The Emperor has whims and creates a mess based on these whims. The four chancellors under him try to clean the mess by giving orders to their ministers. The ministers make their staff work until the issue is solved. Here we should mention how a ministry''s staff is organized. It is very similar to the hierarchy of servants. That is to say, it is once again an unfathomable clutter of ranks. No one is interested in learning that. What you need to remember is that despite the apparent chaos and hypocrisy, the whole system runs surprisingly well. What kind of sweet talk, threat or mind-magic they use to force these people at the bottom to work so efficiently for such a little pay, I do not know.

    -Third section''s human resources managing department executive president-butler¡±

    * * *

    Leopold

    He had just finished stamping the last letter of the day as he laid back in his chair, his eyes wandering along the room, on the many shelves full of precious books, the beautifully painted ceiling, the white marble walls mostly covered in tapestries. Such a display of wealth only helped to make him grimace in frustration. Leopold eventually turned his head to the side, gazing at the capital through the high window.

    As always, the sight was breathtaking. It was natural, since Leopold''s absurdly large office was located several hundred of meters above the ground. This was one the numerous privileges granted to him by his position.

    Someone knocked at the large wooden door.

    ¡°Come in,¡± Leopold said in a strong voice.

    A middle-aged secretary entered. He walked along the red carpet until he reached the desk, and bowed. ¡°Lord chancellor, an urgent missive for you.¡±

    Leopold frowned. From whom ? I shouldn''t have any pressing matter at the moment.

    He nodded, signalling the secretary to hand out the missive. He took a glance at the seal and immediately knew what it was about.

    ¡°They came back ?¡± he mumbled.

    The secretary sent a quizzical look. ¡°Milord ?¡±

    Leopold didn''t bother answering. He opened the letter and read it quickly. Once he was done, he wore a displeased look. ¡°Five days ago, hah ! I''ll need to replace this spy with a more capable one, again.¡±

    Is every single subordinate of mine an imbecile who enjoys drinking on the job, or something ?

    He supported his head with his hand, and tapped his balding forehead with his fingers. He eventually looked up, addressing the secretary. ¡°Godefroy, have you got any word of something interesting about to happen in the palace ?¡±

    ¡°There might be something, milord,¡± Godefroy answered. ¡°It seems the Ravilna family and the minister of trade have been active recently. Just like three months ago.¡±

    ¡°Garret Farril, huh ?¡± Leopold stared at the letter. ¡°Then that settles it. They found something in the west.¡±

    ¡°What would you like to do ?¡±

    Leopold thought for a bit. ¡°Nothing, for now. Just keep them under observation. You can go.¡±

    Godefroy bowed again and left the office. The lord got off his chair and walked to the window.

    That incompetent niece might be a stain on our name, but perhaps she finally proved herself useful.

    He rubbed the signet ring he was wearing, feeling the Verald crest carved in gold with his wrinkled thumb, while he kept staring at the city below him. After some time he exited his office.

    As he turned to close the massive wooden door, he caught a glimpse of his stern frowning face in the reflection of the polished gold plate indicating ''Chancellor Leopold Verald''. His grey brows knitted even further.

    ...How long will I keep on like that ?

    As the sound of his footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent, enormous corridors and halls, Leopold lost himself in thought. It happened each time he looked at this gold plate. The awe and arrogance he had first felt when striding on the marble paving of the Palace''s interior was long lost. Only frustration and exhaustion remained.

    Leopold had taken office in the chancellery decades ago, succeeding to his elder brother. They had the dream, when they were young, that one day they''d be able to hold the high-chancellery. The highest position in the Empire, second only to the reigning fool himself.

    Of course, things happened differently and didn''t go that well for Leopold and his brother, as it is often the case in the Imperial Palace. The eldest fell to sickness, the younger, inheriting his job, got stuck to the same office for twenty years because of a rival.

    If the Latrea house at least knew how to manage a country... But they merely grovel before the Emperor and don''t dare to oppose him. The current high-chancellor is just a glorified minion, and we three other chancellors are doing all the work. The nation will fall into decadence at this rate. Or before that, it''ll be crushed by the northern cities or the southern kingdoms.

    Leopold couldn''t refrain a smirk. He had been brooding over the same thoughts for years now. Always the Emperor, always the Latrea family. He was becoming obsessed with them. It was tiring him. And there was also his office, his name and his house''s reputation to manage. He still had hopes to climb that one last rank. That meant he had to be better than anyone else, smarter than anyone else, crueler than anyone else. He had to appear irreproachable, irreplaceable and invaluable.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    When the idiot Emperor would die, his successors had to realize that Leopold Verald was the only possible choice if they wanted to keep the Empire from collapsing. In order to do that, he''d also grovel in front of the right people, if necessary.

    Walking in a long corridor, illuminated by the late afternoon sun coming through the several meters-tall windows, he noticed something in the corner of his eyes.

    Speak of the devil.

    It was the Second Prince Hadrias and his court. Leopold''s main hope for the future. Both for him and the for the Empire, since the prince was not only in good terms with the chancellor, but also in the right dispositions to rule. He had a head on his shoulders, contrary to his father.

    ¡°Your Highness.¡± Leopold bowed and kept his head down.

    The prince and his entourage stopped. Leopold could see the feet of the Imperial guards and the Magic-maids circling the prince. It was protocol, even if nobody expected Leopold to pose a threat.

    A soft but confident voice spoke. ¡°Raise your head, chancellor.¡± Complying, he looked up to the young man, who was playing with his light-brown hair. ¡°Are the nation''s affairs any good ?¡±

    ¡°As usual, your Highness. Though one can only use what little ability he has to clean after a whirlwind.¡±

    Hadrias smirked. ¡°Keep up the good work,¡± he said as he started to walk away, his court and guards following.

    Such was the extent of their complicity. Obviously, they couldn''t afford to mock the Emperor in front of the prince''s entire court, but that small cutting remark was all they needed. These two were of the same opinion regarding the state of the Empire and its current rulers.

    Leopold kept walking through the corridor. It felt like it''d last for ever. It wasn''t even the longest corridor in the entire Palace. But the chancellors'' aisle was opposite to the archives, his destination. He''d spend time here until nightfall. Unfortunately, his office didn''t have the luxury to harbour the two hundred and twelve volumes of the Taxpayer Legislation Corpus. Abridged edition. The Fourth Prince had messed up with the finances of the crown by backing the construction of an entirely pointless fortress to the east, yes, where there was only sea. To protect the Empire from an army of fish and shrimps, perhaps. Regardless of the reason his idiotic son had, the Emperor was furious and ordered high-chancellor Latrea to repair the mess, at the taxpayers'' expenses, of course, because the father had the obligation to be at least as dumb as the son. In the end the job fell on Leopold''s lap, so now he had to get to work. No rest for the wicked.

    Eventually reaching the dreaded library, he found two Magic-maids in front of the doors. Unusual, though it happened from time to time. That meant he was in there. Leopold nodded to the guards, who returned his greeting. He pushed the wooden doors and his suspicions were confirmed. Another row of bodyguards were keeping watch in the massive circular room.

    Leopold glanced through the Magic-maids looking for the First Prince, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably wandering somewhere in the archives. The place was huge and basically had the shape of a large barrel, having several floors in the form of balconies, from which you could look down everywhere. The thing was, despite its impressive size and organisation, its contents were fifty times less interesting than the Academy''s library. Here laid only law and administrative texts. An hour inside this room could suck the life out of any regular human. You''d have to be something beyond human, something like a government worker, a jurist or a high-ranking official to be able to survive here.

    Which brings me, as always, to that question. Why would that man frequent such a place ?

    First Prince Alcidel seemed indifferent to his nation''s future, and Leopold saw him as the kind of man who''d do something scandalous like renouncing to his name or leaving the Palace to travel the lands. No point in betting on him for the position of next Emperor.

    But Leopold could feel something eerie creeping up when he wondered about Alcidel''s reasons for bumming around in this very specific library. When he thought deeply about it, that immature man was clouded in mystery. It was well known that the First Prince had a taste for maids and women in general, and he did nothing to hide his laziness and his disdain of etiquette. But why would someone in a position to soon sit on the continent''s most coveted throne simply spend his days in idleness, not caring one bit about his inheritance ? And how could someone under such a spotlight manage to keep most things concerning him hidden ?

    Sometimes I''m convinced that the whole lazy womaniser behaviour is an act. Hah... There are too many dangerous people prowling around in the Imperial Palace. Hopefully this man will indeed end up discarding his title and leaving the capital. He''s making the archive library an even more uncomfortable place than it already is.

    Taking a bunch of heavy books, Leopold sat in one of the velvet-covered armchairs laid-out between the rows of bookcases. As he turned the pages, trying to brave the boredom of the walls of tax law jargon, his mind wandered toward more important matters.

    The Emperor had others descendants, but aside from Hadrias, only the Fifth Princess would have been a good choice, though she was too far in the succession order. And then Leopold would have to ally with the Ravilna house. Lord Ravilna himself was alright, the man was also a chancellor after all, so he knew what it meant to deal with the mess of the Emperor. Leopold was curious as to why such a reasonable man would support someone who had no chance of accessing the throne, but maybe it had to do with the princess'' charisma. Well, that wasn''t too concerning. The issue was that the man was old and frail, and were he to pass away, his eldest daughter Beatrice Ravilna would probably inherit his office.

    Having that countess around ¨C especially as an ''ally'' ¨C was the worst thing anyone could imagine. Leopold had met her numerous times, and she didn''t seem to have a proper sense of responsibilities. The woman was so enigmatic, even he couldn''t guess whether she was frightfully smart or just plain stupid.

    ¡°If it isn''t chancellor Verald.¡±

    Leopold looked up. Under short black locks falling on his forehead, the aloof eyes of the First Prince gazed at the chancellor. ¡°Your Highness,¡± Leopold said, quickly standing up before bowing.

    ¡°Working hard ? Courtesy of my family, I take it.¡±

    Leopold didn''t answer and raised his head without being told to do so. It might have seemed rude, but the prince would never care for such a thing. That was one of the few things the chancellor was sure of. It might even displease a man like him to follow proper etiquette.

    If you dislike so much the Palace''s customs, what are you waiting for ? Why don''t you abandon your title already and make way for your brother ? Ah, don''t want to leave your women, eh ?

    ¡°Well, don''t let it ruin your health,¡± the prince carried on, waving as he turned around. ¡°You walk a tightrope. They''ll end up killing you... Be it execution or overwork.¡±

    As if I didn''t know that. What was the point of this chat ?

    Leopold watched as the manchild stroke the thigh of one of his maids. The woman didn''t flinch, and the equally indifferent prince didn''t even look at her as he passed by. You''d have to be as stoic and uncaring as Alcidel when you served under him. To be fair, Leopold knew of the training the Magic-maids went through, and that kind of annoyance probably paled in comparison.

    It was a wonder the countess Ravilna wasn''t backing the First Prince, Leopold would bet they''d get along very well. These two would not bat an eye if the Empire was suddenly engulfed in chaos. In that way Beatrice was the perfect opposite of chancellor Varymiel.

    Varymiel was as stern and rigorous as one could be. Strange thing, seeing that her house was basically in charge of intelligence, and you''d expect a cunning, malicious person as a spymaster. Not that it made her any easier to deal with. Her goals ¨C the Empire''s well-being ¨C were as clear as the day, but the woman was so cold and apathetic you couldn''t always figure her out, even though there was only one thing she aimed for. Not as bad as the chaotic countess Ravilna, though.

    Thankfully. The last thing this country needs is someone like the countess as the head of intelligence. She''d probably plot five coups per day, that woman.

    The chancellor kept diligently reading through very interesting texts about tax, tribute, and convoluted ways to make the citizens pay even more tax and tribute. Without him realizing it, nightfall occurred. He put back the books and exited the library.

    Once more, he stood in the everlasting corridor. The silence and emptiness were strangely relaxing, but it barely lasted. Leopold Verald''s mind was cacophonous, he had too many worries to ponder about. His shoulders felt heavy, he had been working since dawn. Staring yet again at the city through the windows, he sighed. Something was about to happen in the Palace. The odds that it was related to his niece''s western expedition were high. He''d have to whip his lazy informants a bit, because in the days to come would began a race to learn what was at stake, whose side to join, which camp to be wary of.

    Feeling that the others had a head start over him, he grumbled. Leopold too would have to start plotting soon, or else he''d be left behind.

 33 - Palace plotters II

    ¡°Oh, the western language ? Piece of cake ! ...Or so I wish. Again, a language that made me eat my own nails. I''ve even lost a phalanx once, when I was working on a particularly difficult text. If the Dragon tongue is overly vague and very dependant on context, the western language has a knack for overly complicated words and long, heavy lists of lexical groups that are putting said complicated words that have nothing to do with each other in the same bag. There''s so much vocabulary, and most of it is almost identical, and there''s no apparent roots or logic. I''ll take a random example : ''epopoliutil'' means ''fruit'', but ''epopoliutol'' means ''ear''. Why ? Who knows. So that means you have to learn everything by heart to understand it because nothing is deducible, which is awful, because we only have access to maybe a thousandth of the whole language. Would you have fun learning that ? I know I don''t.

    -Anonymous depressed linguist¡±

    * * *

    Anton

    ¡°Still nothing ?¡±

    The moustached professor looked up from the heavy book he had been burying his nose into. The man sighed, staring at the pile of similar looking tomes on his desk. He closed the leather-bound book with a clap and tossed it on the top of the pile. Anton glanced at the cover that read ''Ancient history of the continent, volume 8''.

    Only, the contents were in Dragon tongue. The Academy''s librarians just decided to put the covers in Common because it was too much of a hassle to decipher even the titles of the books you went through.

    ¡°What do you expect... You might even have more chances to find what you''re looking for in one of those stone tablets Nathaniel keeps in his room.¡±

    I hadn''t thought of that. Might as well give it a try, you never know.

    ¡°I see. Sorry to trouble you, but could you keep looking in here ?

    The man grumbled and stroke his moustache. ¡°I will, but I can almost guarantee you that there won''t be any mention of it. We both know the Empire doesn''t keep a proper track of its history. Be it deliberate or not...¡±

    Anton shrugged and took one of the books, flapping its pages with the thumb. ¡°I still hope that in an era where people were smart enough to speak this thing everyday, there were also some people smart enough to properly record the events of their time.¡±

    Seeing the many creepy symbols and characters winding made him drowsy. He grimaced and put the book back onto the pile.

    ¡°Well,¡± Anton carried on. ¡°I''m counting on you, tell me if you find-¡±

    ¡°Anything related to a Rahal clan or a faraway island to the east, I know,¡± The moustached scholar finished. ¡°You hammered it into my mind enough already.¡±

    Anton nodded and left the eastern tower, now heading for Nathaniel''s study. Azcheron had finally told him, albeit briefly, about his quest for truth of whatever that was. He didn''t seem like he intended to confess at first, but a slip of the tongue regarding his chat with a dragon incited Anton to press the Saint about the matter. Was it a slip, though ? Careless babble wasn''t in Azcheron''s habits, so maybe Anton had been, in a way, tricked into getting a confession out of him ?

    Ugh, this convoluted idea will give me a headache. Why can''t this brat just say things as they are instead of relying on cunning and tricking ? We''re supposed to be friends, god-damnit !

    In any case, the fact was that now Anton had his suspicions confirmed. Azcheron''s mother had already mentioned a few things, but the old scholar didn''t really act on it, nor did he try to pry any deeper.

    Of course, it only served to make Anton worry even more. Azcheron trying to make his name known was concerning in its own, but now it was obvious he had an underlying goal, which could be either inconsequential or catastrophic. And, from what the dragon said, this whole venture would probably leaning toward the catastrophic side.

    ''Prove yourself worthy'' or whatever, but please don''t do anything stupid. Don''t misinterpret proving yourself with summoning a kraken on the Palace''s roof, for example. That kind of things impresses only you. Regular people will just be horrified.

    Anton kept walking through the black-bricked corridors of the Academy, and eventually stopped in front of Nathaniel''s study.

    It''s worth a shot. Be it from draconic or western sources, anything old might hint at the Rahal clan.

    Anton was acting somewhat desperately, since he''d much rather learn of the truth with books before Azcheron caused an uproar to impress the dragons. He knocked on Nathaniel''s door and entered.

    The forty-odd year old scholar turned away from the stone tablet he was gazing at, raising a brow as he saw Anton. ¡°Professor Vardt ?¡±

    ¡°Hello there, Nathaniel.¡±

    ¡°Is there an issue with my report ? How did the brass react ?¡±

    ¡°Nothing''s wrong, don''t worry.¡± They were referring to Nathaniel''s newest finding, which Anton passed to their backers, the houses Ravilna and Farril.

    The youngest scholar sighed in relief, his shoulders relaxing. ¡°I see.¡±

    ¡°I''m here for a personal matter this time.¡± Anton waited for him to nod. ¡°It''s fine if you can''t answer, but in your studies, have you ever come across anything alluding to an island in the far east, or a clan bearing the name Rahal ?¡±

    The western language researcher squinted his eyes. ¡°Rahal... The name seems familiar ?¡± His face lit up for a second. ¡°Does it have something to do with Azcheron ?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Anton replied flatly.

    Nathaniel muttered something, and finally answered in a resigned tone. ¡°On top of my head, I don''t remember anything, but I''ll look into it and see what I can do.¡±

    ¡°Thanks. Well, don''t lose any sleep on it. It''s just a race against Azcheron. We''d want to avoid losing, though,¡± he said, purposely hinting at possible consequences.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Err... I''ll regret asking but, why ?¡± He seemed wary of Anton''s smiling eyes.

    ¡°What''s the worst that could happen, according to you ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know, the fall of the Empire ?¡±

    Professor Vardt scratched his chin. ¡°Hmm, well it''s a possibility. Consider something like that as the price of defeat,¡± he said as he left the room.

    Anton chuckled as he now walked toward his office.

    Is this how Azcheron feels when he torments people with his words and mysteries ? I get why he keeps doing it.

    His glee came to an abrupt stop when he entered his office. Who else than Azcheron waiting in your own office to put you in the most grumpy of the moods ?

    WHY is he here ? I didn''t expect to see him again until evening.

    Azcheron was peeking at the training grounds through the window of Anton''s office. The sound of wooden swords clashing and the cheers of the small crowd seemed to enthral him.

    Might as well tell him about that other thing.

    ¡°I''ve got news for you,¡± the old mage said.

    The Saint turned back to look at him, waiting for him to continue.

    ¡°Countess Ravilna and Lord Farril are preparing something in your honour. I believe they now very much appreciate betting on your success.¡±

    ¡°Of course. Though I imagine this means Nathaniel made progress ?¡±

    In the five days since their return to the capital, Azcheron, Erin and Anton had time to spread back the news and the group began to work on the second part of the expedition : making the results known. In addition to the official report that told of the expedition''s success, rumours about Azcheron speaking with dragons and fighting Oscar were spread. Azcheron would keep avoiding questions, that way the rumours would prove much more noisy and powerful. Babbling about a few scandalous things and maintaining an enigmatic behaviour, was what they believed he should be doing.

    Regarding the public information, Anton had informed the nobility, which in turn informed whoever else they felt like informing ¨C some important people in this case, it appeared ¨C, while Nathaniel started to decipher the writings now that he had access to his study and the library. Hector Talir was, of course, supervising Nathaniel''s research, but he seemed mostly satisfied with the venture. Anton felt somewhat uneasy regarding Yorl''s death, yet the headmaster wasn''t bothered one bit. He must have only cared about the notoriety it would bring to him and his school, which would, in all likelihood, greatly compensate the loss of a scholar such as Yorl.

    ¡°He confirmed that the golems were none other than weaponry. Well I don''t now whether he really confirmed it or not, but that''s what he claims. That is enough to catch the attention of a few chancellors. These people from high-up are more interested in the military gains than the cultural ones. Not surprising.¡±

    Azcheron''s expression darkened. ¡°As expected of them. The situation in the north looks bad so I can see why they''d want to get a hold on these things.¡±

    Anton understood the Saint''s concerns, since the latter shared his theories. This could very well be the beginning of a catastrophe. It can''t be that it started that way in the west, eons ago ?

    The blonde youth turned his gaze back to the training grounds.

    Anton sighed. ¡°Why don''t you go there instead of spying like that ?¡±

    ¡°Inappropriate. It would disturb her,¡± he replied in a calm, soothing tone. ¡°And I''m not as rude as to just stand around a woman sharpening her body.¡±

    ¡°Huh ? And peeking isn''t rude ?¡± the old mage scoffed. ¡°What''s with the erotic undertones anyway ?¡±

    ¡°What on earth are you talking about ?¡± Azcheron asked, frowning.

    ¡°No, what are you saying ? Oh, I don''t even care.¡± Anton waved away his confusion and Azcheron shrugged.

    Down there, Erin was training with professor Karlos. She insisted she needed more experience against people of Oscar''s level. Anton was surprised when he heard they had faced that man. And survived, moreover. Well, it seemed the fight got her thinking. There was no way to know if or when Azcheron and Erin would meet him again, but apparently the Verald knight wouldn''t take any chance. And they probably were many other people as dangerous as him so her training wouldn''t be a waste of time, the old mage concluded. Since Azcheron clearly didn''t care about staying away from danger, and had a tendency to drag Erin into his mess.

    Azcheron was still looking through the window, behaving like an obsessed madman. Anton paid no heed to and began to do some paperwork. He still felt uneasy, having Azcheron bizarrely laying around in his office, so the scholar gave stealthy glances once in a while.

    Obviously Azcheron was all for this training thing, and curiously Karlos didn''t oppose it. On the contrary, once she mentioned the name of Oscar, the bald teacher''s cold attitude immediately changed. He was then enthusiast and eager to train her. Perhaps there was bad blood between these two.

    How could there not be bad blood between Oscar and anyone in the entire world, though ?

    Azcheron kept watching the training session with smiling eyes as he grabbed a pencil from Anton''s desk with raw mana, magically mimicking stances and wielding it as if it was a sword.

    What''s this now ? Trying out things now that you got yourself crippled ? The old man mocked in his mind, referring to the dressed wounds he knew to be hidden under Azcheron''s sleeve.

    Well, regardless of his motivations, Karlos looked like he intended to groom Erin into a master spellblade or something. In that case, Azcheron would have a lot of work to do if they wanted her to do some magic, but hey, goals were important. Ah, youth, Anton sighed. With her current sword skills, she could surely do without complicated and fancy enchants anyway. Anton only had the extravagant bits from Azcheron, but from what he heard, she managed to stood her ground alone against Oscar.

    The Saint had been silent for a while now. Just as Anton noticed his unfocused gaze, he let out some kind of giggle. It was creepy and eerie.

    ¡°What''s with the smirk and the nefarious chuckle ?¡± Anton pulled him from his thoughts. Azcheron''s head tilted.

    ¡°Ever met someone planning something noble when acting nefarious ? Well that''d never be me.¡±

    The old scholar laid back in his chair. ¡°Hah, you''re scheming.¡±

    ¡°Always. When am I not ?¡±

    Anton gave a wry smile. Then someone barged into the room without knocking. ¡°How rude,¡± Azcheron muttered. Yes, rude it was, to burst in here like that. Students couldn''t hope to get away with that without getting a couple of fingers snapped. This time the intruder didn''t look like a student, though. She seemed familiar.

    ¡°Tania ?¡± Anton inquired.

    It was indeed his maid. Unrecognisable, as she was drenched, dishevelled and exhausted, breathing loudly as if she had been running. Well, it was obvious she had been running. But why ?

    ¡°P-... Professor... I...¡±

    ¡°Alright, sit down and rest for a bit. What is it ? It''s unusual for you to come here, moreover in this state.¡±

    She took a moment to catch her breath. Azcheron still hadn''t moved from the window. He stood here, arms stylishly crossed, probably also pondering on what to make of Tania''s frenzied state.

    He kept muttering, sharing his thoughts with Anton as he stared at him. ¡°Something happened. Thieves... Or assassins, perhaps. Whose ?¡±

    For some reason, Azcheron gazed again at Erin. Eventually, Tania spoke.

    ¡°A lot of people came to the house, earlier.¡± She rummaged through her belongings. ¡°I think... they were from the Palace ? There were Imperial guards and the messenger had beautiful clothes.¡±

    Oh ?

    Anton glanced at Azcheron, who shook his head. No idea either ? They waited for Tania to continue.

    ¡°They gave me this letter.¡± She finally found the paper and handed it out to Anton.

    His eyes widened as he read the message. When he was finished, he consecutively went through feelings of awe, curiosity, worry, horror and finally dread.

    ¡°Well, spit it out, dear friend. What do they want ?¡± Azcheron questioned.

    ¡°Nnnng... Well, to make things short. Seems like the Ravilna and Farril passed the word about you. You and Erin are summoned to the Imperial Palace and being granted an audience with the Emperor...¡±

    Here we go. You''re grinning, I don''t like this.

    ¡°Why the grim face, Anton ? We should be rejoicing. It''s wonderful news.¡±

    Anton must have looked like someone about to witness the doom of all things ¨C because that was actually how he felt. ¡°I''m not sure. Maybe... you should decline ? I have a bad feeling.¡±

    ¡°Not because of me, I hope,¡± Azcheron replied with his best grin.

    You know fully what I mean !

    Not bothering to answer, the professor only gave a weak smile as he casted his anxious eyes onto the letter he was holding.

 34 - Palace plotters III

    ¡°Professor Karlos'' classes follow a clear set of rules. It is very simple, really. Speak during one of his lessons and he''ll break one finger. Make any sort of sound when he''s talking, and he''ll snap two fingers. Come one minute late to the lesson and he''ll hammer five fingers. More than one minute late and he''ll dislocate a shoulder. Miss a lesson and next time he''ll dislocate two shoulders, and force you to train with both arms dangling. The rest of the body is reserved for pedagogic spars. Very simple.

    -anonymous scribble found in the infirmary¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    As he exited Anton''s office, he went to find Erin.

    The reason he hadn''t been watching from the training area itself was, as usual, simple yet convoluted. Erin''s training was gathering a small crowd of curious onlookers. In the biggest lack of modesty ever, he assumed that standing here would divide the attention between the two of them, and so it would be rude to steal a part of the spotlight. Erin fighting Karlos was a very elegant sight, and he wanted her to be seen by as many people as possible.

    He would not tolerate imbeciles treating his heroine as a failed knight. She had to show what she was capable of, to shut some babbling mouthes.

    Well of course, the two of us training together would attract half the capital ! But we better keep it to ourselves. We wouldn''t want to reveal our secrets and teamwork to everyone, now, would we ?

    Of course, all this involved something they didn''t bother to talk about, because it had been made obvious for the both of them ¨C if it came to it, they''d make up a pretext, like always ¨C which was that they intended to stick together.

    What do the people love more than a hero rising to glory ? Of course, a DUO of heroes rising to glory ! Everything goes twofold ! Lone heroes and tormented wanderers are in the past ! Double is the new cool ! We''ll take on challenges twice as dangerous, and get twice the glory ! Such a perfect plan.

    That was Azcheron''s perspective anyway. Erin probably though something respectable like ''Azcheron will summon an ancient abomination or start a war or whatever else if I''m not here to stop him.'' It doesn''t matter, the Saint replied in his mind, chuckling. She didn''t realize it yet, but her being with him would push them toward more insane undertakings. He was convinced of it.

    He arrived at the training area, now empty, save for a few remaining student talking among each other. Erin was sitting on the ground, massaging her bruised and swollen limbs. She perked up as she spotted him. Azcheron did a bit of healing magic, because Karlos could get rough ¨C always did, in fact ¨C and even Erin sometimes saw her bones snapping or her muscles tearing. Groping her calf, he took the necessary time to repair the fractured fibula.

    I don''t enjoy that much seeing that bald guy whacking his weapon against my partner, but she insisted I was not to behead him even if she was grievously wounded, so... Tell yourself it''s for the greater good. No beheading. Tell yourself it''s one of these necessities and obligations. No beheading.

    ¡°Oh, by the way, we''re being summoned by the Emperor,¡± he finally bothered to mention.

    ¡°I see,¡± Erin replied. Then the realization seemed to hit her. ¡°...Eh ? Ugh...¡±

    ¡°What''s wrong ?¡± Azcheron inquired with an innocent smile.

    She squinted her eyes. ¡°Absolutely nothing. Oh, sorry, I meant everything.¡±

    ¡°Hah, don''t act like Anton. It''ll be fine. I have planned for this.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, that''s the issue... Strange, why would both Anton and I react the same way ? Don''t you know ?¡±

    The Saint kept his fake frozen smile. ¡°Know what ?¡± Seeing he wouldn''t budge from his act, Erin grimaced and shrugged it off.

    ¡°Worry not, dear Erin. I wouldn''t do anything that would get us executed. Probably. Even if I did, we''d simply fight our way out of the capital. See ? All is good.¡±

    Erin ignored his taunt as she looked behind him. Azcheron turned, to see Darius approaching.

    That''s right. It''s the proper time and place for things such as spars and obligations. Let''s pay that debt, Azcheron decided.

    * * *

    ¡°Are you sure about it ? Doesn''t have to be today.¡±

    Azcheron gave a quizzical look at Darius. ¡°Surely you jest. I''m in the perfect mood for it,¡± he said, while Erin tossed a wooden sword to the noble. Darius caught it with one hand, but didn''t seem any more keen to spar.

    Why is it always wooden swords ? Don''t we have pikes, maces and shields around here ?

    ¡°They really take the word spellblade literally, huh...¡± Azcheron muttered, gazing at Karlos'' training armoury.

    Darius raised a brow. ¡°What ?¡±

    Erin threw another sword to Azcheron, who didn''t dare to catch it with one hand. Instead, he slowed the flying weapon with magic and planted it in the ground. ¡°It''s nothing.¡±

    Why do I need a sword anyway ?

    ¡°Still, I feel bad.¡± Darius glanced at Azcheron''s arm. It wasn''t a secret for the Saint''s entourage. ¡°You''re recovering...¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°I don''t really use my arms to fight,¡± he said, his foot playing with the sword.

    ¡°...and you have the audience soon, what if you get injured ?¡±

    Azcheron gave a sideways glare and spoke words that made Darius freeze. ¡°Are you belittling me ?¡±

    He shook his head vigourously. ¡°I would not dare.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± The Saint forced back a merry smile on his face. ¡°Then let us begin.¡±

    Darius made a complicated expression, probably thinking he would only last a few seconds, so Azcheron reassured him. ¡°Don''t worry, I won''t stomp you like Erin did. Not that I''m looking down on you, but I want to try something. Maybe you''ll end up winning, who knows.¡±

    The noble nodded as he slipped on some thick leather gloves. Thankfully, you''re not the kind of petty guy who''d quibble and babble about honour and pride and whatnot. Right ?

    They both looked at Erin for the signal. Once it was given, Darius chanted something and sparks of light randomly spurted from his weapon.

    My, my, a lightning enchant already ? Well, it would be more efficient if we were using steel weapons and armours, and if I wasn''t a mage, but you''ve learned new things at least.

    Azcheron took out his sword from the ground with mana and took some sort of stance. He was mimicking a martial artist''s stance while the sword was flying before him. He was convinced it looked cool but seeing Darius making a confused expression and Erin pinching the bridge of his nose, he thought he might as well just stop it already.

    He''d still wield the weapon with mana, though.

    Darius stepped forward and tried bypass Azcheron''s sword, but failed and had to defend against it. He had no trouble, seeing as the Saint was merely swinging the wooden stick in a random fashion.

    As the spellblade student pushed away the flying blade with a heavy blow and rushed toward him, Azcheron rubbed his chin.

    Why does it have to be only swords ? It''s a bore. Shouldn''t we try other things too ?

    As he thought that, he made some gravel and sand levitate and gathered it in a flat, round shape, akin to a shield. He hardened the whole thing with treads of mana, just in time to block Darius'' strike.

    ¡°Huh ?¡±

    ¡°It''s not against the rules or anything of the sort, I assume ?¡± Azcheron inquired just in case.

    Darius made a surprised face but a satisfied smile replaced it promptly. ¡°Of course not, you can do whatever you see fit.¡±

    ¡°In that case...¡±

    In a thought, Azcheron gathered sand and made a spear out of it, with a blunt end. He promptly poked at Darius with it, who struggled to dodge and block at first.

    Seeing that his opponent was gradually adapting to the rhythm of the pokes, Azcheron used his earthy shield to bash him. He had now the crushing superiority in the fight, but he frowned.

    Well this isn''t really different from regular magic. I''m just manipulating sand instead of ice or air... Isn''t there anything else I could try ? I want to feel like a warrior !

    Azcheron glanced around while Darius was dealing with the shield and the spear, and eventually had an idea. He dispelled the mana binding together his weapons, to Darius'' utter confusion.

    ¡°What are you-...¡± Darius attempted to say, but his perplexed expression soon became one of panic when he witnessed several dozens of wooden swords flying out of the armoury.

    ¡°Now that should be enough to make up for my poor swordsmanship !¡± The Saint grinned as the myriads of swords were levitating in a circling motion around him, pointing toward Darius.

    ¡°Why are you so obsessed with swordsmanship...¡± Erin muttered, looking away when she noticed Azcheron could hear her.

    Feeling generous, he enlightened the two quizzical faces in front of him. ¡°I was thinking about spellblades and Roharl''s fighting style. They use both magic and physical force.¡± He paused. ¡°Where''s Roharl, by the way ? I''ve been wanting to ask him something since we came back, but I can''t find him.¡±

    Darius tilted his head. ¡°Ah, you don''t know ? He went on a subjugation mission in the south a bit before your return. Rumours about a dragon rampaging or something.¡±

    ¡°What ! Why have I not heard of that ? And why didn''t he wait for me !?¡±

    ¡°It''s his job, no reason to make a scene about it.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You wanted to go with him ?¡±

    Of course, imbecile ! Dragon slaying would make me famous in the blink of an eye ! Raaaah !

    ¡°Pfah, I was merely curious.¡± He calmed down. ¡°Nothing to do with me.¡±

    ¡°What were you about to say regarding spellblades ?¡± Erin pressed him.

    ¡°Right. Well, using both magic and already existing weapons seemed pointless to me before, but I was too narrow minded.¡±

    Truly, I should have known. On the island, we basically did this everyday, stirring pots and sewing clothes with magic, but I never even wondered why.

    Azcheron carried on. ¡°You have no idea how easier it is to just move objects as they are, rather than creating them, binding their particles with mana, and then moving them.¡±

    ¡°Well it does sound easier,¡± Erin interjected, sounding somewhat offended. ¡°Doing one thing instead of three. Even I can figure that out.¡±

    ¡°Rather, how come you didn''t think of that before ?¡± Darius added, and Azcheron''s eye twitched. Darius didn''t get his answer. In place of it, he was attacked by thirty wooden swords at the same time. Needless to say, that question wouldn''t be voiced ever again.

    ¡°Stay sharp. You never know what happen in a battle, right ?¡± the Saint eventually said with a smiling mouth and deadly eyes. Darius was rubbing his many bruises everywhere, looking pitiful. ¡°Oh, something else.¡±

    The Farril youth raised his head and focused on Azcheron.

    ¡°Never cast that kind of lightning enchant against a mage. I could have just used magic to push your own blade against yourself, and electrocute you. I didn''t ''cause I''m nice, but others won''t be as considerate and plate armour can''t protect you, of course.¡±

    ¡°Not nice enough to refrain from smashing half the armoury on him, though,¡± Erin mocked.

    What''s with your venomous tongue today ? Getting beat up by Karlos made you moody ? he joked to himself.

    ¡°No, that was very educational,¡± Darius interposed himself. ¡°Thank you, Azcheron, for the spar.¡±

    ¡°My pleasure.¡± He stretched his arms in a grandiose manner. Hm, it makes me sounds like I enjoy hitting people. Which is not ¨C or just a bit ¨C true ! I''m not a sadist like Erin. He thought, staring at her. She frowned as she didn''t seem to know what to make of the stare.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± he resumed the conversation. ¡°Will you be present at the audience ?¡± he asked Darius, who nodded. ¡°Good. You wouldn''t want to miss that.¡±

    The noble gave him an anxious look while Erin covered her face with her palms. Such things only incited Azcheron to smile more than necessary.

    Darius voiced his concerns. ¡°You understand that my father and my house staked a lot on you ? Should I tell them to expect the worst ?¡±

    Azcheron shrugged jovially. ¡°I don''t know. We''ll see how it''ll turn out !¡±

    Obviously, Azcheron knew how everything would probably turn out. That, of course, he would not tell Erin, Anton and Darius, for he valued his theatrics far more than whatever mental preparation they were entitled to. Not like he was obligated to warn them !

    And soon, the day of the audience would come.

 35 - Palace plotters IV

    ¡°The Imperial Palace, in its eternal glory, is the pillar of the Empire. It is the siege of the government as much as it is the house of the Imperial family. Everlasting in its immaculate whiteness and its beautiful architecture, every king and lord of the continent is said to have stood in awe amidst its interior. The smooth marble, the mighty columns, the luminous stained glasses, the soothing silence, all inspire reverence and clarity, and embody the noble values of the Empire. The Imperial Palace can be said to be the finest work of art the continent ever harboured, and we have to thank the Second Emperor for it. May his name and memory cast an eternally radiant light upon us.

    -Official travelling guide, chapter XIX¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°This thing again. They call it a Palace but isn''t it more like a tower ?¡±

    Erin looked at Azcheron with pitiful eyes. ¡°Yes, yes, shouldn''t you be used to it by now ?¡±

    ¡°How will I ever get used to the Empire''s dubious naming tendencies, I wonder.¡±

    They were at the Palace''s gate, and Azcheron was observing the tremendously tall tower that was the Palace. Overlooking the city and its surroundings, it felt even more pressuring when you were standing in front of its base. What need was there to build it so high ? Couldn''t a regular, large and relatively flat Palace do ?

    ¡°These people...¡± He sighed.

    The Imperial guards at the entrance were glaring at them. Perhaps it was rude to criticize the Palace in front of the people working and living in it. Not that Azcheron cared about the guards'' sensibility, but he had to be cautious not to cause an unforeseen incident before the one he actually planned.

    Some high-grade butler came to welcome them at the entrance and lead them to the throne room. They passed the gates after a quick search that went without issue. Erin didn''t bring her sword, she came in her knight''s attire. She seemed to be hoping she wouldn''t regret the decision to not come fully armoured and with her weaponry, as Azcheron had led her to believe he intended on causing a very violent ruckus. He wasn''t ¨C just a regular ruckus, that was his aim ¨C but even then he assumed things could go wrong depending on the unpredictable character of some specific people. It would bring him enough attention for a lifetime, and perhaps angry soldiers and assassins with it...

    Contrary to Gabriel, the Farril head-butler, this one wasn''t talkative at all, nor was he receptive to banter. Such a poor company, and there were many floors full of endless corridors and halls, and long and high marble stairs to walk before arriving at their destination.

    Guess I''ll mess a bit with Erin to pass time, he thought as he searched a way to cure his boredom.

    ¡°Say, is there anything I need to know, like the important people or the different factions we''ll meet ?¡± he asked nonchalantly.

    Erin''s eyes widened and she looked like she was about to hit him. ¡°The heck ? You didn''t even prepare ? What did you plan then ? Do you figure you can waltz in there and do whatever you want or something !?¡±

    The butler turned his head and sent them a look full of reproach. Perhaps they weren''t allowed to raise their voices because it would disturb... the columns ? The slabs ? There was nobody and nothing in these places, only the silence and the black and white marble decorations.

    Whatever, they carried on in a lower voice. ¡°I''m joking, I''ve learned everything I could before the audience, what do you think ?¡± he said with a perfectly annoying smile. Of course, Azcheron did his research beforehand. He was as aware of the stakes and their holders as one in his position could be. Meaning, he had found access to all the public knowledge, plus some unofficial and off the record information and rumours. He had to thank Anton and Darius for that.

    There were basically as many factions as there were members of the Imperial family. ¡°What''s the name of the Imperial family, by the way ? Aestril ?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Eh ? Why would it be Aestril ?¡±

    Azcheron frowned. ¡°Why wouldn''t it ? Isn''t it commonplace for kingdoms or capitals to be named after the ruling family, or vice-versa ?¡±

    ¡°Did you read that in a book ?¡± Erin mocked. ¡°The Imperial family''s name is... just the Imperial family ? The same way the Empire is just the Empire.¡±

    Ugh, this culture... No, is it that Anton''s damn books are twisted, perhaps ? How mysterious.

    Azcheron shrugged off these petty interrogations and focused on the audience. There was the Emperor, of course, and his high chancellor, lord Latrea. The Saint had no real way to know about their disposition, seeing as the ruler had the reputation of an imbecile, and his right hand man was notorious for being a groveller, which was in the end one of the worst possible pair. Utter chaos or foolishness, but in this case it could serve and aid Azcheron''s scheme. Also worthy of attention, was the person keeping this ridiculous system from collapsing by deterring any potential threat, lady Varymiel.

    Azcheron would surely attract Varymiel''s deterring intentions ! She was one of the few he exactly knew what to expect from. Oh, Erin would not like that.

    Next was the First Prince, an oddball. No one knew who was backing him, no one knew who was in his court ¨C women, of course, but who ? ¨C and, in a more general manner, no one knew much about him. Simple as that. For now, it''d be better not to bother with him, since he either was doing nothing, or he was acting in the shadows and being very good at it.

    Then, the Second Prince and the Verald house. That was a complicated thing. The man backing that prince, chancellor Leopold Verald, Erin''s uncle, hadn''t been acting in favour of Azcheron until now. Perhaps it would change now that he was gaining notoriety, and that Erin was ostensibly involved in his ventures. Here again, there were two possible reactions from this faction.

    The Third Princess and the Fourth Prince were fairly harmless. They weren''t backed by any powerful house from what Azcheron had heard, so they would stand no chance against the Second Prince in the succession race.

    The Fifth Princess was somewhat another worrying matter. Last in the inheritance order, but with the support of the Ravilna house she might amount to something. Whether the countess had a hand in her father''s choice or not, that was once again a mystery.

    If I had to sum it up, I''d say I have a lot of potential enemies, half of which I know almost nothing of the motives, power and probable actions as consequences of this audience, Azcheron concluded. Perfect environment for an uproar ! There''s no way to entirely predict how it''ll turn out.

    He wondered how could it be that he was both happy to know half of what the future would be like, and to be unable to foresee the other half. The scheming grin probably alerted Erin.

    ¡°Do you have to do something like that ?¡±

    ¡°Why, of course,¡± he replied confidently. ¡°These... mountain dwellers are expecting things from me.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but why-¡±

    ¡°It''s not like opportunities to prove myself will always present themselves,¡± he interrupted her. ¡°And there are currently too many heroes in the Empire, no, the continent, even...¡±

    Erin waited for him to keep going.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    ¡°I need to shine in either a stronger way or a different fashion.¡±

    When there aren''t any opportunities, you make opportunities happen...

    Erin didn''t bother to insist. She must not have felt like arguing just before the audience. Soon they arrived at the gates of the hall. Rows of Imperial guards. The large iron doors opened at the butler''s request, giving view of a large, but especially high, cylindric room. Whiteness came down from the light getting through the many stained-glass windows and its reflection against the immaculate marble. The upper floors consisted of open balconies with people watching, and on the opposite side of the hall, a sort of pyramid of stairs elevated the throne and the person sitting on it.

    A quick glance told him it was the only chair in the room ¨C everyone else was standing, even the onlookers from the balconies. On the hall''s ground, important people, probably nobles and government officials, lined up behind some more rows of guards. On the stairs, a handful of richly dressed people stood.

    It reminds me of our set up at the island...

    Azcheron felt traces of magic at the back of the room, around the pyramid. He figured it must have been a mana barrier protecting the Imperial family. Was it these famous Magic-maids at work ?

    The Emperor was sitting still, against the light, his figure casted in shadows. I see they enjoy intimidating theatrics here too, Azcheron thought. Well then, the game''s on.

    And he walked forward, entering the throne room.

    * * *

    Hadrias

    The whispers came to an end as two people passed through the gates. The herald spoke in a loud voice.

    ¡°Azcheron, of the Rahal clan, and Erin of the Verald house !¡±

    Footsteps reverberating in the now otherwise silent hall. Hadrias glanced up at his father, and frowned. The idiot man was half asleep, staring blankly at the ground, his greying, dry hair dangling from under that absurdly large and gaudy crown. Drool dripping from between stupidly smiling lips.

    The emperor wasn''t even able to put on the mask of a ruler anymore. Good thing his face was clouded in darkness at this angle. High-chancellor Latrea tucked his sleeve as to wake him up. Hadrias looked back at the other side of the throne room.

    The two people entering came to a stop at a relatively far distance, behind rows of guards, as was the etiquette. The Second Prince took a moment to eye the duo.

    The man wore his long blonde hair freely, and Hadrias raised a brow as he noticed his exotic, eye-catching robe. Is he trying to compete with the Imperial family ? He smiled to himself as he realized he was also wearing extravagant clothing. He must have been around the same age as Hadrias. Sharp, observing eyes and an annoying smirk that reminded the prince of that unpleasant hero, Oscar. The irony was that there were rumours of this man, Azcheron, having a particularly bad relationship with Oscar. Not that it surprised him...

    The woman was Leopold''s niece, but she clearly had nothing in common with her uncle, aside from these cunning golden eyes. She was tall, taller than Azcheron, with deep crimson hair reaching her shoulders, and she embodied elegance in that knight attire. Hadrias would admit she was a beauty, and were it not for the scars disfiguring her, she could have done very well in the Palace''s court. But he could easily imagine knights and warriors being attracted by her charm and the aura of danger she gave off.

    He felt uneasy as he glanced behind him, meeting the eyes of his older brother. It wasn''t hard to guess what Alcidel was thinking about.

    Hadrias focused on the audience itself as the herald addressed the two guests. ¡°You stand before his majesty the Forty-seventh Emperor, ruler of the everlasting Empire. Kneel !¡±

    After a short silence, the whispers came back again, from the balconies. Erin Verald had complied and was kneeling.

    Yet this man, Azcheron, was still standing, and his grin became even wider.

    Did he not hear the herald ¡­?

    No, that wasn''t it. He heard, no doubt. He just refused to kneel. High chancellor Latrea spoke up. ¡°Subject of the Empire, why do you not kneel ?¡±

    The nobles from the balconies began to yell and shout.

    ¡°Kneel !¡±

    ¡°Why aren''t you kneeling !¡±

    ¡°Are you disrespecting the Emperor ?!¡±

    Then a thunderous voice shut everyone up. ¡°SILENCE !¡±

    Azcheron took one step and the thunder came again, from him. ¡°I, AZCHERON, THE RAHAL SAINT, GREETS YOU, THE EMPEROR, AS AN EQUAL. I SHALL NOT SUFFER ANY MORE OF THIS SILLY MISUNDERSTANDING.¡±

    No one dared to speak a word. Hadrias only noticed a subtle change in the Imperial guards'' demeanour, and the Magic-maids pouring more mana into the invisible shield around the throne.

    ¡°I WAS KIND ENOUGH TO ANSWER YOUR INVITATION, EMPEROR. HOWEVER, KNOW THAT NEXT TIME I WILL NOT TOLERATE BEING TREATED AS YOUR VASSAL.¡±

    What the heck !? Who does he think he is ? He''ll get executed...

    The Second Prince didn''t care personally, the man had greatly contributed to the Empire''s possible improvements of its military by bringing evidence that the golems were weapons, but it wouldn''t do either to have the highest authority disregarded like that. Hadrias wasn''t like his indifferent brother. He''d sit on that throne one day, and he needed said throne to be a symbol of might.

    The Palace''s court indulged in more insulting and booing. Though some people were smiling or laughing more from amusement than mockery, like that creepy countess Ravilna. But Azcheron didn''t budge from his imperious behaviour.

    ¡°I DO NOT REMEMBER ALLOWING YOU MONGRELS TO SPEAK UP ! EMPEROR, YOUR PEOPLE ARE INDISCIPLINED !¡±

    To everyone''s surprise ¨C Hadrias especially was shocked ¨C the Emperor spoke. In a frail, tired voice. ¡°And what right have you to behave in such fashion ? Are you not from the Empire yourself ?¡±

    Azcheron smiled and answered in a normal voice this time. ¡°My island isn''t in the Empire''s jurisdiction. We have never paid tribute, we have customs and a language of our own, and there isn''t even any trace of us in your much precious history books and maps.¡±

    Is it a taunt ? He says this as if he was mocking the tempering of historical records... Well, I can''t blame it. When such flaws are so publicly known, the Empire suffers as a consequence and has to pay the price.

    Lord Latrea glanced at the Emperor, who just waved, and replied in his stead. ¡°Do you come here as a foreign representative then ?¡±

    ¡°Precisely so,¡± he answered arrogantly. From the balconies came yet again the many words of disdain. Then Azcheron carried on in an entirely different tone.

    ¡°I do not mind going to war with the Empire if this is what it takes for its people to properly respect me.¡± Even Erin Verald, who had kept her head down all this time, seemed like she couldn''t help looking up in horror.

    Her horror increased twofold. As soon as Azcheron finished his sentence, the rows of guards drew their swords and assumed combat stances, while Magic-maids and Battle-butlers jumped from the ceiling and balconies and circled Azcheron and Erin.

    Despite his dire situation, the Rahal Saint was unfazed and kept on. ¡°Although, be warned, citizens of the Empire. It would not be a war of armies, sieges and tactics. It would be over in the blink of an eye, for I would send your ruler to his grave with a flick of my wrist. Your petty magical defences and guards will not amount to anything.¡±

    Hadrias felt cold sweat running down his nape. Sweating, him ? But he couldn''t take this man lightly. Every report from the informants emphasized his ability and the danger he posed.

    Azcheron suddenly let out a long laugh that echoed in the cold hall. It sounded like someone was badly mimicking a stereotypical evil laugh. But there was, without a doubt, a whole world of genuine mockery, scorn and contempt in that laugh. He eventually calmed down. ¡°Aah... Well, well, do not be so tense. You all look very uncomfortable.¡±

    Whose fault is that ?

    ¡°What is your goal here, Azcheron ?¡± high-chancellor Latrea inquired in a voice soaked with uneasiness.

    ¡°No need to brood. I don''t plan to be on bad terms with the Empire today, all this frolic was just to make my position clear. I am not to be treated as a vassal.¡±

    ...''Today'', he says.

    ¡°Now,¡± he kept on, ¡°whatever reason you had to summon me, I do not care. If we are to discuss an important matter, please send another invitation, and give me the treatment that is due to someone of my rank. Farewell.¡±

    And on these words, he turned around and left the throne hall, Erin Verald following him, the guards splitting away to the sides as they walked through them.

 36 - Palace plotters V

    ¡°How be a proper plotter, for beginners : everything is in the appearance. People need to know that you are scheming nefarious plans just by looking at you. Have a cunning smile at all times, whether you''re glaring at your sworn enemy, or bathing. Squinted or smiling eyes are a boon. You''d do well to get yourself a baggy robe where you can hide a large variety of things : poisons, blackmail letters, items waiting to be put in your enemy''s pockets as to compromise him... You can buy one at Levibel''s workshop in the main street. Do not forget to rub your hands together and chuckle on a regular basis. Always appear in unpredictable places and unpredictables times, as to surprise people ¨C you never know what you can stubble upon ¨C and more generally, as to embody danger and chaos. Finally, you need a plot or a scheme, but that kind of thing comes naturally once you live in a palace or a castle...

    -101 Palace tips for newly arrived employees¡±

    * * *

    Hadrias

    Grumpy, the Second Prince walked at a fast pace in the Palace''s corridors. He was looking for Leopold, who was hiding somewhere in the damn tower. The chancellor probably felt he''d be blamed for the catastrophic turn the audience took earlier in the day. He had no reason to, even if his niece had been at the centre of it all. The decision to summon that atrociously flashy Azcheron was made by the Emperor at the request of the lords Ravilna and Farril.

    So, Hadrias was grumpy because he couldn''t find his advisor. He was made even grumpier by the fact that his whole court was following him everywhere, not forgetting his private army of bodyguards. Maybe they were afraid Hadrias would do something rash because of his mood. But he wasn''t ! He was just getting impatient.

    This damn Leopold... Won''t he come out ?

    He really needed to talk to him. About the audience, yes, but not about responsibilities and heads about to roll or whatever the chancellor was afraid of. The consequences of the audience stretched much farther than that.

    That man, Azcheron, could either end up as the bane of the Empire, or as another of its heroes. Hadrias would very much prefer the latter. The Saint, as he called himself, had already started to establish his notoriety in the Academy and in a part of the aristocracy. It¡¯d much easier to elevate him to the rank of hero, given enough time, than just discard him as a dangerous element and try to dispose of him, with all the consequences that would come next. Hypocritical stares and whispers, for one, but the man''s wrath, also. Well, Hadrias hadn''t any guarantee that the Saint would agree to become a hero of the Empire, seeing as he made his position very clear ¨C him not being a vassal.

    Again, this thing was fishy. What was that island that no one heard about ? Where was it anyway ? Was it really a foreign country, or had Azcheron been bluffing ? Hadrias needed information, and since Leopold''s niece was involved with Azcheron... The prince knew the chancellor to be a rigorous man, very watchful of his reputation and not above sending spies to keep an eye on his family and their frequentations. So, while waiting for his personal spies to get to work, he hoped to find some sort of enlightenment about this whole thing by asking Leopold. When he''d find him, yes.

    He had checked the chancellor''s office and chambers, the archives, asked the ministers about the man''s whereabouts, but nothing. Maybe he was being subjected to some vociferations ? Hadrias set off for the higher floors, where the Imperial family''s living area and the high-chancellor''s study were located.

    Something''s wrong, he thought as he reached the floor of the Emperor''s chambers. Too many female guards. Too many Magic-maids. Not hard to figure, the eldest brother was here. As expected, he found him waiting in front of the doors of their father''s room.

    Waiting here ? What is he... The giggles and moans coming from the other side of the doors gave away the answer. Hadrias grimaced. Seeing his sibling, Alcidel grinned.

    ¡°Hi there, dearest brother.¡± The usual aloof tone.

    ¡°Alcidel,¡± the Second Prince replied coldly. ¡°What brings you here ?¡±

    ¡°That''s my question. I have a few things to say to father. You ?¡±

    He frowned. ¡°...Not your business.¡±

    Alcidel shrugged and both kept an awkward silence. It must have been even more awkward for their court and guards, forced to witness such a scene, with the disgusting groans and laughs coming from the other side of the doors as a background noise.

    The gates eventually opened, letting a bunch of lightly dressed girls escape. The cherished sex dolls of the Emperor. Slaves. One of the many shameful ''secrets'' ¨C which everyone was aware of ¨C kept by the foolish ruler. Yes, yes, of course, slavery was officially abolished in the Empire, but one would have to be fairly na?ve to expect important people from nobility and royalty to abide by their own rules and laws. In fact, owning or buying a slave here was forbidden, but the law said nothing about selling people to another nation. Slavery was one of the rare things that more or less maintained good relationships with the southern kingdoms, for now. Human trafficking, and what ensued from it ¨C life-long servitude, sex slaves, gladiators and all sorts of things ¨C stood as a pillar of these countries'' culture and economy. The people who knew about it kept their eyes closed, and their pockets filled. The common populace saw it as a urban legend at most. What, slaves in the morally immaculate Empire ? Pfah !This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    Hadrias found it distasteful. It was a stain on the Empire''s values, his values, but it wasn''t as if he had the power to do anything about it right now. Not now. So he had to bear with it each time he saw his father and his brother dragging along girls with iron collars and whatnot. Thankfully, these two weren''t the worst of the slave-owners. There were always people with... darker fantasies, and that, Hadrias wasn''t sure he could witness calmly. Thinking about it was enough to ruin his mood.

    A maid came from the room and bowed to the princes. ¡°His majesty is busy addressing some important matters and will receive you as soon as he is finished,¡± she said without much conviction, and Hadrias snorted.

    ¡°Rather, as soon as the maid finishes him !¡± Alcidel joked after the girl went back into the chambers.

    The Second Prince didn''t bother to reply. Ignoring the manchild was the best course of action. Else he''d end up punching him or something like that. Perhaps he had to thank Alcidel somehow, for inheriting the entirety of the Emperor''s lust and vice.

    Well, lust, the other siblings could also do. Hadrias didn''t miss the looks on his sisters'' faces during the audience. Azcheron probably seemed like a exotic, foreign prince worthy of awe, with his flamboyance and imperiousness. What should I make of the rumours saying he''s a commoner ? He was already thinking about marrying that guy to one of his sisters, so that he''d refrain from causing problems, and his country ¨C if it existed ¨C would be officially allied to the Empire. Once he was sitting on the throne, Hadrias wouldn''t have any trouble to arrange such a wedding, but it''d be another matter if the Saint indeed turned out to be a commoner. It''d hurt the family''s reputation, and that would also mean Azcheron was impersonating royalty. No way to really know without learning about his island, though.

    ¡°He''s dangerous,¡± Alcidel suddenly said.

    What... Who, the Saint ? Are you reading my mind or something ?

    ¡°I''m talking about Azcheron. Just thought you''d want to know.¡±

    Hadrias stared at his brother. ¡°...Why would you care ?¡±

    Of course, like Leopold, Hadrias doubted the genuineness of Alcidel''s behaviour. He was a suspicious man indeed, and the times when he''d blurt out curious things like that, only helped to make him look fishier.

    ¡°I did some digging once I learned the identities of the people father had called for the audience.¡±

    ¡°Why would you do some ''digging'' ?¡± the Second Prince insisted.

    Alcidel kept ignoring his questions. ¡°Obviously, there''s the whole expedition thing which everyone knows about, and his growing reputation among the mage community. It''d be enough to make Varymiel wary, but there''s more.¡±

    Hadrias squinted his eyes. ¡°More ?¡±

    ¡°Oh, much more. Ever heard about hell-bats being summoned in the Academy ? There''s also word that he spoke with a dragon while crossing the mountains. Then, curious rumours from the east...¡±

    ¡°The east ?¡±

    ¡°Where he hails from, supposedly. Stories of a small lord journeying to the island he mentioned, and never coming back.¡±

    ¡°You mean... the Sarlas family, who lost its patriarch half a year ago.¡±

    Alcidel nodded. ¡°Maybe ask your informants to do their jobs properly for once. You''ll be surprised when you hear of the details of the expedition and the man''s ability.¡±

    The maid opened the door once again, and signalled Alcidel to enter. The First Prince disappeared into the Emperor''s chambers before his brother could ask him anything else.

    Hadrias stood still, gazing at the closed doors, his mind trying to put the pieces together.

    Is this the reason you need to speak with father ? No, you''d inform chancellor Varymiel if you really cared... Have you done that already ? And how come you know that much ? Who else knows about all that ?

    Finding Leopold became suddenly even more pressing. The chancellor would want to know what kind of mess his niece was involved in. Better yet, it''d be a great boon if they could use the girl to monitor the Saint, or something. It''d be much wiser to ask her, rather than risking spies being discovered. If she refused, maybe they''d arrange a few deals, suggest a advantageous match for the Verald family, in other words solve the issue peacefully. If it came to it he wouldn''t mind wedding the girl. She was older and scared but it''d strengthen his ties with the Verald family at the same time. Leopold would surely not oppose having his niece as the new Empress... No, why was he thinking about that ? It was unsafe. The Saint could very well be angered if he turned out to be involved with the girl. How strange of me, Hadrias thought. In any case, he had to act before someone, most likely his father or the chancellor Varymiel, decided on a rash and stupid course of action. The Empire had enough issues like that, it didn''t need to have a wannabe hero rampaging its lands because someone in the Palace got on his bad side. They couldn''t afford to send an army or another hero after a rogue mage, at the moment.

    His father was already wasting money and troops on the preparations for that pointless northern campaign. What did the demons ever did to him ? The current Emperor wasn''t even born yet when the Free Cities took that tiny chunk of land, there was no reason to bear such a grudge, and until the hostilities started, the trade had been beneficial to both parties.

    Of course, the small diplomatic conflict blew up to absurd proportions, and now the north posed a danger and began gathering troops, so Varymiel was also backing the belligerent faction. These fanatics. Hadrias had never expected Varymiel to join their side, a cool-minded woman like her had no business with these hysterical people. Maybe she had an agenda, maybe not.

    They even sent the Great Sorceress Karia in the north. Exactly the kind of thing that would worsen the situation. Hadrias had very little hope left for the conflict to find a peaceful outcome. Well... Peaceful is already out of the equation. By now Karia has probably started to burn people alive... She must really hate demons, even though these ones have nothing to do with the abominations that creep underground...

    A common misconception among idiots. The northern demons, Hadrias believed, were akin to humans and merely had a sightly different appearance. Like Elves, perhaps ? Not that he knew of anyone that saw one in decades. Unfortunately people were quick to associate these ''demons'' with the entities lurking in ancient ruins, dark temples and forgotten dungeons. Whoever left these dangerous things laying around was probably despised by the northern demons, who had been suffering from the misunderstanding for eons.

    So, the Imperial citizens wouldn''t voice their disapprobation regarding this conflict, seeing as they did not disapprove for the most part. Most likely, it''d escalate to a full scale war. The Empire would win, of course, but at what cost ? They''d lose money, manpower and a trade partner, all because of the foolishness of the Emperor.

    Such a mess, he sighed.

    He noticed his court had been waiting for him to do something. Yes, he had been staring at his father''s doors ever since Alcidel entered the room. A pointless way of spending his precious time. Turning around, he went once again to search for Leopold, his entourage following him.

 37 - Palace plotters VI

    ¡°Of course, you have to be wary of assassins. Even the best plotter can be disposed of. Reeking of scheming and treason doesn''t make you immune to poisoning or executions ! A word of advice regarding your enemies. Don''t expect fishy henchmen wearing black cloaks, swinging around sabres and throwing daggers. It''s not how it''s done here. Rather, be careful about your every meal, about the water you wash your hands with, about walking near carriages and windows and all the ''accidents'' that could happen. You''re much more likely to have a maid putting hemlock in your soup, than having a knife plunged through your heart. Assassins in dark robes are a thing of stories and novels.

    -101 Palace tips for newly arrived employees¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron breathed out deeply as he let himself fall on a chair. A tiring day, he had been giving lessons for several hours. His growing notoriety and his rumoured capabilities caught the attention of many students that were rather keen to learn more in depth about raw mana. Obviously, when he heard about the possibility of giving supplementary lessons to students that were interested, he thought why not ? Shining as a teacher would help spreading his name, he had no reason to refuse !

    And learning how to teach magic would prove important. Erin wouldn''t become a master spellblade all by herself, after all ! She was very motivated, that woman, always training with Karlos or going to seminaries about various subjects. Even right now, she was in the middle of a lecture, if Azcheron wasn''t mistaken. About runic enchantments, I think ? The Saint scratched his chin. I wonder who does the lessons and lectures about runic magic, now that Yorl is dead... Darius had told him that one of his friends ¨C he couldn''t remember the name ¨C was studying runes and artefacts. Azcheron felt somewhat bad for getting the old teacher killed, since his students also suffered the consequences.

    Well, he brought it on himself, when I think about it. It wasn''t me who babbled out our discoveries to Oscar... Why does it feel like everyone''s holding me responsible when, for once, I''m innocent !?

    Not that he cared much. Bad reputation was still reputation. That was why he decided to act all high and mighty at the audience. He''d rather be infamous than not famous at all. Regarding that, he could understand Oscar, though perhaps not to such an extreme extent. Mhh, you never know what the future holds for you ! It''s not the first time I think about it, but if I can''t become a hero, I might as well become an evil mage whose power will make the whole continent tremble !

    Azcheron walked the covered passageway leading to the training grounds. Once here, he was surprised to find it empty. Perhaps it was too late for Karlos'' lesson. Or too early... In any case, Erin wasn''t here, probably in still in the middle of a lecture. There was no light in Anton''s office so he wasn''t there either. With no one to nag around here, Azcheron kept walking and wandering through the gardens.

    A nefarious overlord. I kind of like that idea. A noble heart that was shunned and corrupted by the world, straying away from the path of goodness, descending into darkness and whatnot... Only to become virtuous again at death''s doors, fighting for his loved one and ending his own life in a redeeming sacrifice !

    He followed the stairs leading to the higher floors. There was a garden he particularly liked, on top of a large, elevated tower.

    Such a story would surely be popular with the ladies... But then again, do I have a noble heart to begin with ? Erin would say that I''m the one doing the shunning and corrupting, but that woman''s words are poison.

    Arrived at the top, he gazed at the moon as he stood in the middle the empty and silent garden. The moonshine passing between the black towers was reflected against the slabbed path, illuminating the grass and flowers in a faint silvery light. In the distance, Azcheron could see the large shadow of the Palace, obscuring a portion of the starry sky.

    But I have my youth and my exoticness on my side, so no matter what I do, all is good. All is forgiven. Though I don''t really want to die or sacrifice myself. And Erin forbade me anyway.

    There was nothing to disturb the peace of the nocturnal garden, not even the wind. Nothing to disturb him. Nothing ? That was when Azcheron noticed. Amidst all the magical disturbance in the school, there were traces of magic lingering around here, in the garden. That was strange.

    And for a second, he felt something from a tower overlooking the Academy. Then, several faint lights coming from the tower. ...Ah !

    In the blink of an eye, Azcheron raised a wall of stone slabs from the ground. Just in time to defend against a volley of glowing arrows crashing against the slab rampart. Enchanted arrows ?

    At the same moment, he caught a glimpse of a shadow running toward him. Something shiny spurted from the darkness, Azcheron stopped it with mana right before it reached his head.

    A throwing knife. Assassins ! Finally ! He rejoiced, glancing at the Palace''s blackness standing out against the stars. Took them long enough...

    The shadow drew another dagger form under its robes, taking a stance with it. These are real assassins, with cloaks and whatnot ! So cool. With a thought, Azcheron pushed mana against the blade and shoved it into the assassin''s throat. He groaned and clawed at his neck while blood flowed from it and red bubbles bursted from his mouth.

    One down, Azcheron counted as the man collapsed. How long has it been since I''ve had a real battle with my magic unimpeded ? Let''s play a bit, see how they fare. And a smile formed on his face.

    Another volley of arrows came from the tower, while two other shadows rushed from the sides. With a flick of his wrist, the arrows were reduced to cinders, engulfed in flames that kept hovering above the garden, casting a vivid orange light on the Academy. He waved his hand and sent the slabs he had raised with mana, toward the two assassins. Crushing their skulls in a squishy noise.

    High pitched sounds came from behind. He dove to the side, metallic flashes passing around him, and suddenly a sharp pain in his right shoulder.

    He grimaced, seeing a knife lodged in it. How many are they ? he wondered as he threw the blade away and shrugged off the injury. Will they just come in small groups while the rest keep attacking me from afar ? He still forced the blood out of his shoulder with mana before treating the wound, not risking the knife being poisoned.

    He made the mass of flames grow larger until it became an enormous brasier. The light was now enough to give Azcheron a proper view of the garden. Three cloaked figures circling him. He found the man he assumed to be the culprit of the knife throwing, and snapped his neck with raw mana, so hard that the head detached itself from the torso.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    The two others drew glowing blades. Enchanted, Azcheron guessed. They have good gear and training... Another cloud of arrows flew in the sky, and to the Saint''s slight surprise, the two cloaked spellblades casted volleys of paralysing bolts. A feint ! I like it ! Using wind magic to help him dodge the bolts with a cartwheel ¨C because it was stylish ¨C, he then ran toward the two assassins, as he heard the arrows crashing behind him.

    Jumping between the pair, he seized one attacker by the arm with magic. As the second man was about to strike, Azcheron made his puppet spin and placed him between them to serve as a human shield. The sword carved in the torso and got stuck in it. Now drenched in blood, the Saint discarded his shield and severed the remaining attacker''s legs with a wind blade. He stopped the blood loss by burning the ends of the shortened limbs, ignoring the screams of the victim.

    Of course, he was fighting in a convoluted way, merely enjoying the battle by refraining from making all his opponents explode in a matter of seconds. Though he had to resort to some more classic magic to get rid of the archer.

    He enhanced his vision to see through the distance and the darkness, surveying his surroundings, the roofs and the towers, and quickly spotted the last cloaked figure on the highest tower. He was busy mumbling something, probably his next spell for his volley of arrows or whatever else. A moment later, the head was missing, blasted away. The headless body fell somewhere in the Academy''s grounds.

    Someone will have a surprise tomorrow morning ! Azcheron thought, not bothering with the cadaver now laying in some random courtyard.

    * * *

    Erin

    Erin stretched her arms now that the lecture had just ended. Lots of symbols and geometrical constructs traced on the pages of the notebook she shoved in her leather bag. Runic magic was complex, but after trying to learn the Dragon tongue, it somewhat paled in comparison of the draconic scribblings.

    She wondered if Azcheron or Karlos could teach her a bit about how to enchant something with runes. Not much was known about it really, most people preferred enchantments obtained through casted spells, because the user had complete dominion over the effects. Runic magic was a thing of its own, a separate entity from the magician, like artefacts. Probably a draconic invention. They always had the most complicated and impractical ideas.

    The heck is this ? She wondered as she exited the lecture hall and looked at the sky. Thoughts of the seminary were replaced by confusion, seeing some sort of inferno hovering above the Academy, not far from here.

    Having a bad feeling, she went in the direction of the brasier to see what was happening. Maybe it''s Azcheron or some student trying out spells ? She tried to reassure herself as she walked the stairs and corridors leading to the upper gardens.

    She didn''t really know what to expect, but she certainly was surprised to find the highest garden decorated with dead bodies, arrows and blood puddles.

    Of course, Azcheron was standing in the middle of it all, arms crossed, casually chatting with a legless person. Seeing that his friend was covered in blood and that the dead people wore shady black cloaks, Erin got the gist of the situation. Walking wordlessly to Azcheron, she intended to listen in the interrogation, but it seemed the crippled man fainted.

    ¡°Oh, Erin. You''re late,¡± the Saint said in an obviously fake reproachful tone.

    ¡°I can see that. Friends of yours ?¡± She motioned toward the corpses scattered in the garden.

    ¡°Night prowlers. We had a entertaining spar.¡± He gave a radiant smile.

    Erin grimaced as she remarked the hideous state of some mutilated bodies. Most were headless.

    ¡°I''m sure they enjoyed every moment of it... From the Palace ?¡±

    He nodded. ¡°I''d say so. They were trained and that one refused to speak." He pointed to the unconscious assassin.

    ¡°Professionals, then... You''re guessing a chancellor or the ruling family ?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡± Azcheron snapped his finger. ¡°I thought it could be from your family but if these are Imperial assassins, at least either Varymiel or a member of royalty has to be involved. From what I''ve learned, it''s unlikely your uncle would request something from the other factions, and the Second Prince would probably try other means before sending assassins.¡±

    ¡°...Whereas the Emperor or Varymiel could very much decide to kill you because of the audience.¡±

    Erin sighed. What kind of enemies did you make this time ? I was expecting consequences since the audience, but still... She looked at his face and saw his smiling eyes. Then the realization hit her.

    ¡°You knew they''d do something like that !¡± she accused. ¡°You did it on purpose !¡±

    ¡°Bah ! I told you things would get moving a bit.¡±

    ¡°No, you didn''t.¡±

    ¡°Didn''t I, now ? Perhaps you''re right. Well, I thought about telling you then.¡±

    ¡°And you didn''t.¡±

    ¡°I may have forgotten.¡± He shrugged.

    Yes, yes, you forgot. Whatever. ¡°What do we do with all these bodies, now ?¡± she asked. I''m sure people will be curious about this brasier flying up there, and come to see what this is about. Then they''ll be even more curious about the garden being turned into a graveyard overnight.

    ¡°Let''s leave these guys here for now.¡±

    ¡°Huh ?¡±

    ¡°To show people what''s what. To warn them not to send pitiful assassins like those. Can''t they do better ? Moreover...¡± he pointed at some tower in the distance, ¡°there''s another body laying somewhere around there, and I don''t feel like searching for it. Since someone will eventually find it, we might as well let the other corpse in the open !¡±

    What kind of logic is that ? Ugh...

    ¡°There''s no way you''ll manage to live here peacefully after that, you know,¡± she pointed out.

    Azcheron sent her a quizzical look. ¡°My dear Erin... Haven''t I told you ? I''m sure I did, this time. That I wasn''t planning to make friends with the Empire.¡±

    Indeed, she remembered. ¡°What do you have in mind then ?¡±

    ¡°Why, going somewhere else where I can spread my name, of course. I take it you will be coming with me.¡±

    She nodded. Was there really any need to ask ? It wasn''t as if she really had anything tying her to the capital. And she had already made her mind some time ago. In the desert.

    ¡°Once we''re done wrapping up things and interrogating this guy, we can leave anytime. I''d say the sooner the better, so that we won''t be late.¡±

    Late ?

    ¡°Thinking of a destination in particular ?¡± She was curious. She knew he wouldn''t want to go in a boring place.

    Azcheron smirked. ¡°The north, where else ? I hear it''s starting to boil, up there. I wouldn''t want to miss that.¡±

 38 - Palace plotters VII

    ¡°Of course, you know what lay in the north of the Empire ¨C the Heretic Free Cities. These are places of debauchery and vice, what else can you expect from towns inhabited by demons ? They pray to old gods that could entirely turn out to be akin to the abominations slumbering in ruins. Who knows what kind of rituals they perform to quench those gods'' thirst for blood and souls. Word is that it''s the demons themselves that feast on the bodies and minds of humans, and so that would explain why they look so fat.

    -anonymous citizen¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron closed the heavy iron door behind him, before facing Erin and Anton. They were in the underground levels of the Academy.

    Here, students and professors alike were provided with sturdy, secretive rooms where they could try out unsafe magic in all safety. Or so they said. The room wouldn''t save the caster if he mistakenly created a pillar of magma above him, nor would the Academy be protected if someone accidentally spawned a flying meteor here. Such a thing apparently happened long ago. Well, in the end it was truly an abominable incitation to dabble in forbidden magic, but evidently the mages here would try their dangerous spells regardless, even if there was no room purveyed for this. Azcheron was, unsurprisingly, guilty of such actions. So at least with specially designed rooms they could limit the damage.

    Of course, Azcheron wasn''t here to try out magic. He''d do that in courtyards or other public places like always. He felt that experimenting alone in such gloomy rooms would be a absurd idea, because then people couldn''t see him and gossip about him.

    Though in a way, he was still experimenting with magic here. He was just doing something he wasn''t supposed to do in this place. A dungeon or a cell in the Palace would have felt more appropriate for asking questions and whatnot to the legless assassin he captured, but he had to make do with the Academy''s rooms.

    ¡°Do you have something ?¡± Erin inquired. Anton was frowning, probably not finding the method to his tastes.

    Azcheron raised a blood covered finger.

    ¡°I''ve learned a lot about how healing magic can be used as a torture tool !¡±

    ¡°Not what I meant.¡± She closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

    ¡°Yes, yes, I know. Well, I honestly don''t see why we even needed to question that guy. As I figured, lady Varymiel sent them. Interrogating him was pointless, because I was right, like always.¡±

    ¡°Yet you still did it,¡± Anton pointed out. Indeed, torturing people wasn''t one of Azcheron''s hobbies. But he had to make sure, and he couldn''t risk missing on anything else.

    ¡°Yes, I still did it,¡± he replied coldly, then addressed Erin. ¡°It also seems like their orders were to dispose of you if you were a hindrance.¡±

    She raised a brow. ¡°Are you sure ?¡±

    ¡°Hm. I still don''t know whether your uncle had an hand in it, but I''d say it''s unlikely. From what you and Darius told me, he''d want to avoid staining his reputation by being linked to something like that, and he''d rather not use manpower from other factions and be indebted to them.

    ¡°Hope you''re right. Maybe he still planned for all this,¡± she concluded with a tinge of disbelief.

    ¡°In any case...¡± Anton said, ¡°What do we do with him now ?¡±

    Rumours about the corpses of assassins laying in the garden had already met the ears of every single person in the Academy. We could finish this one and put it among the others. What''s another corpse in the pile, huh ?

    ¡°Well it''s not like he can return to his employer anyway, now that he failed his mission.¡±

    Erin scoffed. ¡°I doubt he can even return anywhere with his missing legs.¡±

    ¡°Is it mercy to kill an assassin who lost his legs ?¡± the Saint wondered. ¡°He''ll never be able to do his job again, poor guy.¡±

    ¡°His job, assassinating people you mean ?¡± Erin retorted. ¡°I think we''d do the world a favour by killing him.¡±

    Anton interjected hastily. ¡°Wait, wait, wait ! Is it already decided that he''ll die ? Why are you so bent on killing him ?¡±

    ¡°Isn''t it obvious ? Tell me Anton, you''ve known me for a long time. Remind me, what is the customary sentence for attacking me ?¡±

    ¡°...Beheading,¡± the scholar groaned.

    ¡°Yes ! Indeed ! Beheading, beheading ! Or perhaps you''d suggest another way ? I''m open to suggestions. Hanging ? Dismembering ? I know Mirna likes dismembering, though I find it rather unclean.¡±

    ¡°And the job''s already half done,¡± Erin casually added.

    Anton eventually resigned himself. ¡°Nnnngg... Just give the damn guy a quick death, will you ? Then we''ll toss him with the others.¡± On these words, he left, taking the stairs leading to the surface.

    Azcheron glanced at Erin, who simply shrugged. He then turned back, opened the door of the room and in a thought, ended the prisoner¡¯s life.

    * * *

    People were running around in every corner of the Academy, gossiping about the cloaked cadavers in the high garden, going on a large ''treasure hunt'' ¨C it seemed someone had encountered the headless body that fell somewhere from the tower, and people were now searching frenziedly for more corpses.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The whole situation made Azcheron chuckle.

    ¡°You seem awfully nonchalant about all this chaos,¡± Erin noticed as they walked in the corridors and dodged the crazy running students.

    ¡°Why wouldn''t I be ?¡±

    In truth, Azcheron wasn''t as nonchalant and merry as he made it appear. A curious anger was creeping in his mind. It wasn''t a burning, raging fire kind of anger. It was faint and dark, like a cold sharp blade waiting in its sheathe. A displeasure, that turned into frustration, and then disdain. Yes, he had expected this kind of consequences for his uproar at the Palace. Yes, he also had expected that Erin would get involved in said consequences. But now that it occurred, he didn''t took it that well. He didn''t appreciate his partner being treated as a mere ''hindrance'' to get rid off. He didn''t appreciate that people were still harassing her after all she went through.

    ¡°I don''t know. You don''t care about us being branded enemies of the crown ?¡±

    Azcheron frowned. No, that wasn''t it. Erin having enemies wasn''t something that worried him. Not was it because he disliked Erin being endangered because of his own actions. That''s not anything new. And this time it wasn''t only his fault. More like, partly because of him, partly because of these Palace schemers. What would a cool hero say in such times ?

    ¡°I''ll admit I take offence in them daring to raise a hand against my heroine.¡±

    ¡°Heroine ? I''m not a character from a story, you infinite imbecile.¡±

    You will be, one day ! From my story.

    ¡°But if they want to play it like that, fine. It''ll really be war.¡±

    She squinted her eyes. ¡°Azcheron ?¡±

    ¡°I''ll kill the Emperor,¡± he said with a grin.

    ¡°...I don''t know if that''s necessary ?¡±

    He ignored her and kept on an eerily happy tone. ¡°I''ll kill his descendants and his minions, I''ll kill the spymasters, the guards, the mages, the assassins, I''ll level the entire tower.¡±

    ¡°Do you plan on murdering every single person that could threaten me ?¡± she asked in a forced flat tone, as if she really didn''t want to hear a positive answer. Alas...

    ¡°Yes, yes, if it comes to that. You are right. I''ll kill everyone who''d think about threatening you, regardless if they''re heroes or peasants. I''ll kill your uncle if that''s what it takes. I''m not belittling you or looking down on you. This is just another whim of mine.¡±

    She looked at him for some time while they kept walking.

    ¡°Thank you, I guess ? But... you know, if it comes to that, I''ll kill my uncle myself.¡±

    ¡°This conversation is getting strange,¡± Azcheron suddenly said. ¡°If people hear us they will see us as sociopathic murderers.¡±

    ¡°Whose fault is that ?¡±

    The Saint chuckled. Well, she was right. For now, there was no need to plot the demise of every single inhabitant of the Palace.

    * * *

    ¡°All good then ?¡± Anton asked.

    Two days later, Azcheron and Erin were at the north gates of the Capital. Anton, Darius and Tania were here to bid them farewell.

    ¡°Indeed. We have enough supplies and money for the trip. Should do,¡± Azcheron assured him as he stroke the neck of his horse. ¡°I''ll just have to learn how to use this creature.¡±

    ¡°Don''t fall and break your finger or something,¡± Anton mocked, taking an imaginary revenge for his bootless misadventure.

    ¡°Very funny.¡±

    Azcheron and Erin would ride on separate horses. Because the journey was long and tiring, one mount would have been too burdened, especially with all their luggage, so Erin insisted Azcheron should take this as an opportunity to learn how to ride. They wouldn''t go with Jormas'' caravan either. He had his own business, and there was the almost certainty that the north would soon get engulfed in war, so he''d never have accepted anyway.

    They''d ride for a few months until they reached the border, then a few weeks until they arrived at the biggest cities. The Free Cities weren''t as far as it seemed, but the terrain would get worse as they gradually advanced, and with all the military encampments, mercenaries and bandits lurking, they would have to take a few detours or make a few stops, depending on Azcheron''s mood and whims. Especially on the other side of the border, where people from the Empire weren''t exactly welcomed these days. They weren''t expecting any trouble from the Imperial army, but just in case, Erin made the effort to go for a quick visit to her manor when she knew her uncle wouldn''t be here, and took a few things she could use as diplomatic means.

    There were also ancient ruins of cities and castles laying around the border, dating from the firsts wars between the Empire and the Free cities, centuries ago. Azcheron really wanted to check that out.

    ¡°Any idea which city you''ll visit ?¡± Anton wondered. ¡°If I need to send you a letter or anything... Not that it''s very easy to communicate with the north right now, but I''ll try.¡±

    ¡°Maybe Atharemine, it''s supposed to be the largest city. Or Pelirise.¡±

    Anton grunted in acknowledgement. No one bothered to ask what Azcheron planned to do in the north. He could end up enlisting in Karia''s army, joining the northerners'' side, acting like a spy for the Empire or just taking a walk amidst the chaos... Everything was a possibility, and Azcheron himself was still pondering what he''d do, aside from exploring ruins and visiting towns. They all kept silent for a few seconds, then Azcheron griped the reins of his horse.

    ¡°On that note, farewell.¡± He gave a slight nod to his friends and, fiercely looking at the horizon, signalled for his horse to depart. The mount started to move away, not in a straight line toward the gates, but still. A sideway glance allowed him to see Erin snickering. She gave a knight salute to their companions and followed after him, seizing the reins of Azcheron''s mount and guiding both horses in their rightful path.

    As they slowly rode on the north road because of Azcheron''s dubious balance, caravans, carriages, other riders and walkers passed in both directions.

    ¡°There seem to be a lot of young people going north. Voluntary enlistment ?¡± the Saint asked Erin.

    ¡°I''m not sure. There''s a lot of kids just wanting to see an army, a mercenary camp, or ancient ruins, these days. It''s only going to get more busy up there. People taking part in the war preparations when they never held a sword before, guys journeying to explore the ''dreadful'' north, everyone is trying accomplish something flashy, all because of the Empire''s propaganda. ¡±

    ¡°Hmm... Adventurers of some sort, then.¡±

    ¡°You know about it ? Well, of course you do... Still, not the safest job there is,¡± she explained. ¡°You''d have a better life by simply being a mercenary, at least you get a steady income that way.¡±

    ¡°Can''t they organize themselves in a guild or something ? Like craftsmen and merchants ?¡±

    ¡°What, these impulsive, inexperienced brats ? It''d never work.¡±

    Azcheron shrugged. ¡°If you say so.¡±

    And so, they departed for the northern border.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, depicted the Saint joining an adventurer guild, starting at the lowest rank, mocked by all... until he climbed each level and ended up as a first class adventurer, with everyone''s respect. With magic badges having the name and rank engraved, or something.

    History tells of an entirely different truth : Azcheron didn''t ever join an adventurer guild, for it didn''t exist in his time. It should be mentioned that he did meet adventurers, and did explore ancient dungeons and temples, though the majority of people who accompanied him wouldn''t ever go back in one of these ruins. They''d be either too traumatized, or too dead.

    But the story of Azcheron''s adventuring episodes shall be spoken another time ¨C quite soon indeed ¨C for the story of the northern campaign is now about to be told.

 39 - The northern campaign

    ¡°Adventurer is a rather recent profession. It''s getting popular with each day passing. I mean, it has a lot of things going for it. For example, adventuring is a good way to meet people. You can forge steady bonds with the comrades that accompany you during explorations. Nothing like an ancient ruin to create an everlasting friendship ! I speak from experience. It''s something akin to the army, I guess ? Hardships and stuff like that only make you stronger as a team. Well, that''s the main point of adventuring. That, and the treasures. And the demon-slaying. And the glory.

    -anonymous adventurer¡±

    * * *

    Ralf

    Ralf and his companions were riding north. Yes, like many young people in these time of turmoil, they were riding north. Not to enlist in the army, no. They were all for this northern campaign, of course, but Ralf had barely ever swung a sword at someone. He wasn''t ready for war. His comrades weren''t either. Probably. That was what he told himself to lessen his feelings of cowardice. So they weren''t going to take part in the war, they just wanted to do some adventuring. It was fashionable, these days.

    Theresa was riding at his side. She was the only girl of the group, but, damn, she was pretty. These brown eyes and this warm smile. No, Ralf had no crush or anything of the sort. It wasn''t like that. She was to marry Clint anyway. It was more like he looked up to her. She was brave and skilled with a sword, unlike Ralf.

    He looked up to see Clint riding in front of everyone. He was the group''s leader. Clint said he had already explored ruins and dungeons and whatnot, so it was obvious to let the most experienced person take the lead. Other than that, he was a hot-headed man, but good-natured. The type that Ralf couldn''t stand ¨C energetic and straightforward. Somewhat dumb. Surely, Clint''s cheerful demeanour casted a shadow on the already shadowy Ralf and his gloomy attitude...

    Maybe that''s why Theresa''s with him and not with me ?

    He tried smiling a bit more but his eyes met those of Harold who, even though he was also riding in front, just happened to turn his head at the right moment. The look of mockery and the snicker he gave made Ralf reconsider his ability to smile. This guy, Harold... You could say he was fun to be with, as long as you weren''t with him, somehow ? Whatever that meant.

    Ralf would have preferred to go exploring without Clint and Harold ¨C just with Theresa, yes ¨C but he had to face reality. Clint seemed like a true adventurer, and Harold was the only one among them who knew some magic. Just a few utilitarian spells, but it wasn''t as if they were going to fight anything. As it happened, when journeying and exploring, light spells and things of the sort would prove much more useful than a botched fireball. So, well, these two were kind of necessary.

    And Ralf had to admit he wasn''t very reliable on his own. He thought he was good with people, and reading people, but the others regarded that kind of talent as next to useless. He had been boasting that he could expertly bargain with merchants, elegantly get information from fellow travellers, maybe even negotiate with bandits... But they didn''t meet anyone as of now, and so far he was proving to be a futile addition to the group.

    There was an old abandoned temple not far from the border, three months away from the Capital. They intended to explore it before some other group did. It was the trend these days. All the cool kids were doing it. The north was bursting with activity, it was only a matter of time before all these strange buildings got scouted and mapped. Nobody seemed to find it weird that they hadn''t been explored yet, but oh well. Everyone hoped to find some scary demons inside, though Ralf was smart enough not to expect anything. These demons stories were just popular because of the coming war. At best they''d find maybe refugees or wild beasts using the ruins as a shelter. That was the only reason they took swords with them, that and the fact that Clint insisted. He said the group would look better with swords... Whatever.

    Ralf was coming for the adventuring itself. The exploring, the mapping, climbing and so on. Maybe find a few jewels or ancient coins ? Not that he''d be pillaging the ruins, that was a bandit thing ! But treasure hunting was very appealing.

    For now, they made camp as the sun was setting. They would probably reach the ruins the next day.

    * * *

    As expected, the ruins came in their sight by the afternoon. It didn''t look all that impressive at first. A couple of broken pillars, some half-destroyed walls, a sort of crumbling pyramid of stones and bricks. But Ralf knew the main attraction to be underground. He had no idea what to expect from now on, and that excited him much more than he imagined it would.

    The first thing he didn''t expect ¨C and that proved true for the others too ¨C waited in front of the temple, in the shape of two figures on horseback. Are we too late ? was Ralf''s first thought. Only a moment after, did he wonder if these two people were dangerous.

    Ralf''s group approached carefully, entering a staring contest with the pair. Well, they were barely staring back. One of the two was actually looking toward the ruins. That figure was smaller and thiner than the other, wearing a hood with blonde hair flowing from under it.

    The second person was maybe gazing in the group''s direction, though the close helmet made the whole staring contest pointless. Under a dusty, worn cloak, Ralf could guess a tall body clad in a plate armour. An Imperial knight, judging by the design of the plate and the helm. Glimpses of hilts and handles here and now. Swords or daggers, Ralf proudly figured. Why so many, though ? He also saw a bow and a round shield attached to the saddle. Maybe a noble daughter and her brave knight then ? They looked like they came straight from a romance novel.

    Truly, Ralf and his companions must have looked like peasants in front of these mysterious travellers. Even though they weren''t peasants. Sure, they didn''t come from the capital ¨C it''d be stupid to ride for three months just to explore a mere ruin anyway ¨C but their city was large and their own families were somewhat well-off. Peasants couldn''t afford to go exploring things when they had to support the war effort.

    Not that Ralf voiced this explanation. He hoped these two people could think on their own, and therefore wouldn''t spit on his group because they looked like peasants. Nobles were known to act arrogantly, after all...

    He felt like he got smacked on the face when the hooded figure looked toward them. The noble daughter was a man. Then, he felt like he got trampled by a horse when the knight took his helmet off. The manly knight was a woman.

    What... the hell... Ralf glanced at the others, and saw that they were more or less in the same confused state as him. As they got closer, he observed the freshly revealed faces with a renewed attention.

    So, a woman and a man, around their twenties perhaps, like Ralf''s group. He couldn''t help comparing the woman to Theresa, because they had in fact very little in common with each other aside from their confident demeanour. The woman didn''t look friendly one bit. She had red hair messily tied up behind her, in a way that did nothing to keep bangs and locks of hair from falling on her scarred face. These scars gave her a menacing aura. But what made Ralf even more alert was the pair of enthralling, cunning eyes that screamed danger, as they seem to find and absorb every detail and weakness from Ralf''s group.

    The man was also conspicuous. Pretty light hair and an arrogant smile on his almost girly face. Piercing cold eyes that somehow seemed to be mocking the world. Ralf realized the man was a bit younger than everyone else, or perhaps it was just his appearance. Some strange feathered attire under his cloak, and a colourful tunic showing beneath it, from a foreign country probably. A single sword dangling from his hip. Not much in terms of weaponry aside from that, the female knight was probably the one they had to be wary of.

    If Ralf''s hunch was on spot, then they were lucky. It could indeed just be some noble son ¨C not daughter ¨C wanting to go adventuring, with a bodyguard accompanying him. The obvious disparity between the Imperial knight armour of the woman, and the man''s exotic foreign clothing, Ralf had no time to think about, since Clint promptly acted on his own and greeted the pair.

    ¡°Hello, fellow travellers ! Could it be that you too came here to enjoy the ruins as explorers ?¡±

    The woman sighed, and the grin on the man widened into something eerie.

    ¡°My, my, it is indeed what we came here for.¡±

    ¡°I''m Clint,¡± he said as he dismounted. ¡°This is Theresa, Ralf, and Harold.¡±

    ¡°The overly charming lady by my side is Erin. And I have the immense pleasure to be Azcheron.¡±

    What''s wrong with his speech ? He sounds so arrogant ! Ah, maybe he''s a foreigner indeed...

    The man called Azcheron stayed still on his horse, observing Clint with smiling eyes. He eventually carried on. ¡°Would you like to go on an adventure with us ? Is that the proper way to ask ?¡±

    ¡°Err, I... guess ?¡± Clint was fazed but quickly got back to his high-spirited leader behaviour. ¡°Sure thing then, the more the merrier ! I see you too are experienced, good !¡± he added, glancing at the female knight. ¡°You never know what sorts of demons lurk in these ruins, haha !¡±This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Azcheron''s reply consisted only of his annoying, creepy grin. The girl, Erin, finally dismounted and as she started to rummage through her belongings, she spoke for the first time. ¡°Are you ready to go in now ? We were about to enter anyway when you arrived.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, of course. Let''s just make a quick camp and tie the horses somewhere.¡±

    On these words, everyone prepared themselves, making a rudimentary encampment and taking the necessary supplies. Ralf packed his exploration tools, Theresa and Clint sharpened their blades a bit. Harold just stood there and ate an apple like the oaf he was.

    Azcheron was speaking with Erin, away from the group. She seemed to be scolding him for whatever reason, and Ralf saw Azcheron groaning and putting something back in his luggage. A stone that looked like a fruit, or an ear ? He wasn''t sure, but it probably didn''t matter.

    Moments later, they entered the ruins.

    * * *

    They climbed down stairs for some time. Ralf felt like it would never end. It was boring and disappointing for now. Only stairs, nothing to explore. It was dark and the steps were slippery, so they couldn''t afford to rush even if they had enough light.

    ¡°Ah, ruins are such interesting places,¡± Azcheron suddenly spoke. ¡°The moss, the humidity, the old stones. Don''t you agree ?¡±

    Is he trying to start a conversation or something...?

    ¡°Sure, sure. I guess archeologists and the likes would say that too,¡± Ralf replied, seeing that no one knew what to say.

    The smiling eyes again. ¡°Very right indeed.¡±

    Huh... Why is he acting so creepy...

    Ralf didn''t really know what to make of the noble guy. On one hand he made Ralf uneasy, on the other hand he seemed strangely confident and it felt safe to have that woman Erin around. She seemed strong. And she looked cool. No, no, Theresa was cooler, right ?

    Eventually, the staircase ended. Now they stood at a crossroads. The three possible directions all looked the same. Dark and slippery, like the stairs.

    ¡°I say we go forward !¡± Clint bellowed.

    ¡°We could also separate in three pairs, since we are six,¡± Harold suggested.

    Ralf was quick to agree. ¡°Indeed, indeed. To make balanced groups, we could have Clint and Harold pairing, then Azcheron and Erin together, and finally Theresa and me, I guess.¡± He tried to act as innocent as he could.

    Clint stared at him. ¡°Well... No ? It''s bad luck to separate from the others in such places. And even then, Theresa and I would go together, don''t you think ?¡±

    Both Harold and Theresa seemed to agree, Azcheron looked like he was mocking Ralf, and Erin, well, he couldn''t guess what she thought with this emotionless face. The atmosphere was awkward though, that he clearly understood.

    Ralf glared at Harold for suggesting such a thing, but he only got a shrug in response.

    Azcheron resumed the conversation. ¡°I''m fine with going forward.¡±

    ¡°Forward it is, then !¡± Clint concluded.

    And so they walked forward. For quite a bit of time, again. It was one big corridor, with nothing to explore. Again. To cure his boredom, Ralf decided to try speaking with Erin.

    How do I address her anyway ? Sir ? Lord ? Lady ? She has this armour but I don''t even know if she''s a real knight.

    He went for the most neutral route in the end. ¡°Err, excuse me ?¡±

    She just turned her head, waiting for him to continue.

    ¡°Lad-... Lord Azcheron, does he happen to be a foreigner ? His speech sounds somewhat curious...¡±

    A surprised and amused expression. She seemed to find something funny about his question, but he couldn''t know what. Perhaps she caught on his almost-blunder ? Great, once again he had embarrassed himself.

    Surprisingly, Erin bothered to answer. ¡°It''s just the way he talks. Sounds arrogant, right ?¡±

    Ralf had no idea whether it was wiser to agree or not. Succumbing to his indecisiveness, he was unable to answer. Though Erin looked like she didn''t pay him any heed anymore. Damn, did he just let this chance pass ? No, what chance was he talking about, by the way ? He was sworn ¨C secretly ¨C to Theresa.

    They kept walking in silence.

    * * *

    The group reached a large circular hall at some point. Still dark, but at least it didn''t feel too narrow and oppressive anymore. Although they must have been deep under the surface by now. It was getting somewhat hard to breath, the already stagnant, humid air had began to rarify.

    At the light of the torches and Harold''s magic, they saw rows of columns with bas-reliefs on it. At the centre of the hall, a sort of altar with a stele in front of it.

    Everyone went to do their own thing, trying to find treasure or demons or whatever else there could be. Ralf went to the altar and tried to read the stele, in vain. It was too worn-out and the few areas that were still intact showed unfathomable carvings. An ancient or foreign language, but it was strange. The northern demons used the Common tongue, so what was this ?

    Well, it''s not like staring at this stele will get me anywhere. If only I knew some other languages...

    He glanced around. Theresa and Clint were wandering in the hall. Harold was looking at the carvings on the columns, and so was Azcheron. Erin seemed to be keeping watch. Ralf sat on the steps of the altar, resting a bit. They must have been walking for a couple of hours at least, he realized only now.

    Clint approached him, with Theresa following. ¡°What''s this thing then ?¡± he asked, pointing to the altar.

    Ralf waved his hand. ¡°No idea.¡± He barely glanced at the altar, disregarding the stones laying on it.

    The group leader seemed disappointed, though he suddenly flashed a smile. ¡°And this funny-shaped stone here ? Looks like a gemstone to me !¡±

    Ralf and Theresa hurriedly looked at the altar. True, there was a weird, slightly translucent stone placed in the middle of some circles and engravings. How could I miss that !

    ¡°This is the difference between novices and experienced explorers, see ? You have to know what to look for,¡± Clint bragged, while Theresa nodded in admiration.

    Shut the hell up, I just missed it because I didn''t even look at the altar. Experienced adventurer my ass.

    ¡°Well, I found it so I keep it, right ?¡± And he stepped on the altar. As he was about to grab the gem, Azcheron intervened.

    ¡°I would appreciate if you refrained from touching this thing.¡±

    Ralf looked back. Azcheron was frowning as he stared fixedly at a column. Something was obviously wrong, yet Clint didn''t understand that.

    ¡°I bet you''d love to take the gem for you, haha ! But sorry, us adventurers have a rule, first come, first served. Surely you get it, you''re an adventurer too, eh ?¡±

    Azcheron sighed and pointed to the column. ¡°If you had eyes instead of shit-holes, you could have taken a glance at these carvings.¡±

    Ralf''s group was shocked. Where was the smiling noble from before ?

    Azcheron walked up to Clint. ¡°They beautifully depict some sort of large abomination killing a vast number of soldiers before being sealed in a stone that looks exactly like this one. Do you get what I''m saying, or are your ears shit-holes too ?¡±

    Theresa''s sudden rudeness surprised Ralf even more than Azcheron''s. ¡°You... Crap-eating brat, I''ll shut your damn mouth !¡±

    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± Ralf quickly stepped in as Theresa angrily approached Azcheron. ¡°What''s this seal thing you''re talking about ?¡±

    Clint scoffed. ¡°Just a trick he made up to take the gem for himself.¡± He was trying to appear calm and cool-headed, although it was obvious he wasn''t.

    ¡°I''m not joking, you immense oaf. There''s really something bad inside that stone. I can feel the nefarious magic it''s emitting.¡±

    ¡°And since when are you a mage, huh ?¡± Theresa said in an overly inquisitive tone.

    Harold came to his rescue. ¡°He''s right, I can feel magic too.¡± But immediately worsened the situation. ¡°Though maybe it''s just an artefact, or maybe he''s using his own mana to fake the nature of the gem.¡±

    ¡°What about the carvings he speaks of ?¡±

    ¡°I saw them too. But they also show many other things.¡± Harold sighed. ¡°Could be they''re just depictions of old legends decorating the hall, and he''s using that to scare us.¡±

    Ralf didn''t fail to notice Clint and Theresa gripping their swords'' handle. Erin was also ready to reach for her weapons, glaring at Ralf''s group. Great, great. Thank you for your contribution, Harold. This situation doesn''t look tense at all.

    Azcheron closed his eyes and breathed deeply. ¡°Okay, I''ll explain it differently. You guys should be able to get it that way.¡± He turned to Clint. ¡°Tell me, what would be the worst thing you could imagine happening to you ?¡±

    Clint snorted but answered nonetheless in a defiant tone. ¡°Having my limbs chopped off or something. And seeing Theresa dying in front of me.¡± He probably felt it was a cool line.

    Azcheron''s merry grin came back. ¡°Good. Then understand that if you touch this stone, I will do that to you.¡±

    There was a short silence during which everyone had the time to take in what he said. Azcheron kept on.

    ¡°I will tear all your limbs apart, and I will keep you alive, forcing you to watch as I proceed to also dismember your lovely Theresa. Then I will kill the both of you.¡± He then turned toward Harold and Ralf. ¡°Is this fine with you too ? Who wants to play Theresa''s role ? Or do you have a different preference regarding your own demise ?¡±

    Ralf wanted to laugh. He really hoped deep down that Azcheron was joking. But he knew he wasn''t, and Erin likely knew he wasn''t, and everyone else too seemed to know he wasn''t. Fair enough then, he isn''t joking. We... just have to refrain from touching this stone. Please don''t act like an idiot, Clint ?

    ¡°And what can you do when we have twice your number ?¡± Clint arrogantly babbled, perhaps not realizing that this wasn''t a face off between armies where numbers mattered. Ralf was pretty certain that Erin could kill everyone here in a matter of seconds. She surely looked like she was about to do it, anyway.

    He had to calm everyone down. Ralf had no choice. He would save everyone if he managed to find a solution. He would save Theresa, at least. Think, think. How can I convince Clint to step down !? Theresa is too biased, she won''t help me, and Harold probably doubts Azcheron too...

    Alas, before Ralf could find a proper solution, Clint doomed everyone. ¡°I''ll take my gem and you''ll stop pissing me off, or I''ll beat you up.¡±

    Ralf witnessed things slowing down around him, as Clint reached for the stone. But suddenly Clint had no arm, only a fountain of blood remained in place of the limb.

    Everything became messy and blurry then. Ralf could hear screams and groans and see Clint rolling on the ground, Theresa raising her sword, Harold running away. There were sounds, noises that Ralf had never heard in his entire life. Sounds of ripped flesh, cracked bones and splashed blood, he eventually realized.

    Ralf just stood here, having somewhat lost his sense of time. Clint was now laying still, in multiple pieces. Ralf turned his head slightly, and saw the sticky blood dripping from Erin''s sword. Something rolled on the ground and reached his feet. Looking down, he was met with Theresa''s frozen expression of horror. Before he knew it, he was gripping tightly the handle of his sword and breathing loudly. Why was he doing that, he wondered, confused, as he noticed Harold''s figure collapsing in the distance.

    Ralf found himself running toward Erin. There was an annoying noise. What was that ? A scream. Who was screaming ? Couldn''t they shut up ? He felt something cold in his throat, and the scream stopped. Oh, he was the one screaming, he realized, as Erin removed her blade from his neck. Now everything was moving, turning upside down. The floor became the wall, and the wall became covered in warm blood.

    As the red life escaped from his throat, everything got silent and blurry. Then, darkness engulfed him.

 40 - The northern campaign II

    ¡°The northern border is a natural fortress for both the Empire and the Free Cities. A long series of valleys, crevices and rivers. A proper location for stealth and infiltration, but also for deadly ambushes and traps. Needless to say, both sides make good use of the terrain, turning the border into a death pit for anyone daring enough to cross it. On the other hand, there are a few open spaces here and now. Plains and hills, convenient for marching with armies, you''d say. If it weren''t for the bunch of fortresses and outposts, yes. The common folk wanting to cross the border will have to follow the main road and pass numerous checkpoints. The whole thing gives us smugglers a hard life, and the profession is one of the most dangerous around these parts. You''d have a better life as a regular merchant, even with all the taxes and stuff. At least that way you don''t risk having your head placed on a spike. Aside from bandits. It''s rumoured that each side has its own safe routes for spies and the likes, but no one knows the details. Maybe it''s indeed a mere rumour and they just disguise themselves as merchants, hah !

    -northern smuggler¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    It was noon when they arrived at the main base of the Imperial army. A large, tall castle with an even larger encampment surrounding it. Behind the palisade, tents and soldiers and horses wherever she looked. The camp was filled with busy people, carrying gear and wood, sharpening swords, putting up more tents and so on. Overall, it looked like a small town. With thousands of people, no, tens of thousands.

    ¡°Now this army looks much more high-spirited than the guys from the western fortress !¡±

    Azcheron''s remark was stupidly obvious, but even Erin was somewhat disturbed. The magnitude of the northern campaign, she realized, was immensely more important than what she had been believing.

    Erin noticed a group of riders approaching. The pair must have looked fishy, since they weren''t coming via the main road ¨C where the checkpoint was located ¨C but from the west, where they did some ''adventuring'' a few days earlier.

    What happened there was... Well, a necessity, although an unpleasant one. Azcheron had tried to ease her, insisting that they couldn''t afford letting anyone know about these ruins, telling her that there hadn''t been any other choice aside from killing the adventurers. The truth was, she had been already set on killing them once they turned hostile and disregarded Azcheron''s warning.

    Considering the stone supposedly contained something even Azcheron would rather avoid summoning...

    She focused back on the guards. Azcheron''s position in the Empire was somewhat delicate, yet they weren''t particularly worried about that, because Erin could still use her name to their advantage. Sure, there was a time when she''d do her best to avoid relying on it, but she didn''t mind nowadays. She had already been using it as part of Azcheron''s plans. Her name was becoming a weapon like any other.

    ¡°Who goes there !¡± inquired one of the riders, probably the captain, while the others pointed their spears toward Erin and Azcheron, forcing them to slow down their horses.

    Erin took her helmet off, triggering some surprised expressions from the guards. She was starting to enjoy that reaction, and she knew Azcheron was also delighted to see her indulging in some theatrics. Theatrics, theatrics. Now it''s time to show my acting skills.

    ¡°I am Erin of House Verald. I come her on behalf of my uncle, Leopold Verald, lord chancellor.¡± She removed her glove and showed the crest on her signet ring. Again, surprised faces. With a tinge of horror this time, as the soldiers hurriedly put their spears away and bowed.

    ¡°Fo-... Forgive me, lady Verald !¡± the captain blurted out. ¡°It was not our intent to show disrespect to you, p-please understand !¡±

    ¡°Worry not, I pay it no heed. You were merely doing your job,¡± she said in an august but calm tone, putting the soldiers at ease.

    Erin decided to appear respectable and likeable rather than arrogant and fearsome. She considered herself more of a soldier than a noble, after all.

    ¡°Shall I escort you to the castle ?¡± The rider motioned toward the fortress, and they all began to ride in its direction. ¡°A room will be prepared for you, if you wish to rest. I will also send for the Great Sorceress, to notice her of your arrival.¡±

    ¡°Yes, we would very much like to meet with the Great Sorceress,¡± Azcheron finally spoke, attracting glances from the guards. Since he didn''t care to introduce himself, the soldiers had no idea how to behave around him. He could have been nobility too, or even royalty, for what they knew.

    Do we really want to meet with her, now ? Erin wasn''t sure if that was a good idea. I hope Karia hasn''t received any message from the capital yet, because I have no guarantee using diplomacy and waving my titles and birth would save Azcheron if Varymiel ordered his death.

    Seemingly catching on her concerns, Azcheron gave her one of his trademark smiles. A radiant, confident one, therefore announcing danger and things of the sort. They had a plan, of course, but he was clearly showing that he wouldn''t mind if it failed and if they had to fight.

    Come what may...

    As Erin and Azcheron wandered in the camp, following the riders, they saw the army up close. A rather heterogeneous army. It went from elite soldiers and knights to peasants and volunteers. They all had one important thing in common however, and Erin didn''t need to hear their conversations to know what ¨C their presence here was more than enough. That would be, of course, their hatred of demons.

    No doubt, that''s Great Sorceress Karia''s army for you.

    They were a few minutes away from the castle when Erin noticed a strange smell. A smell of burning, something like that. Someone had been cooking meat. Chicken, she guessed. No, beef ?

    She glanced at Azcheron, but he didn''t seem to care about the smell. Wasn''t he hungry ? It was lunch time though. Ugh, the hunger. I hope we can eat before meeting with Karia. Tricking the Great Sorceress is something I don''t feel like doing on an empty stomach...

    Now the group was approaching the gates, as were a lot of people waiting to enter the castle. Seeing that, the captain addressed Erin. ¡°Forgive me, lady Verald, it seems the castle is getting crowded.¡±

    A vague and superfluous remark. Perhaps there was an announcement or something. And now Erin realized it didn''t smell of chicken, or beef, or whatever animal that would usually come to mind. It wasn''t just smelling, it was stinking. A stench she knew well, for she had encountered it a lot when she was a mercenary. A stench reminding her of banditry, pillaged villages and aftermaths of battles. Azcheron too seemed to understand, and he looked like he recalled an unpleasant memory. The guards were obviously used to it, because they were casually chatting and laughing among each other. The crowd separated as one of the riders yelled to make way.

    I would have liked the rumours to be only rumours. She frowned as they entered the crowded courtyard.

    Sticking out from the mass of spectators, burnt stakes and wooden pillars. Dangling from up here was the meat. Charred black and atrociously inhuman in their twisted postures, yet they looked indeed like human corpses.

    Perhaps the guard noticed Erin''s frown, because he tried to reassure her. ¡°Do not worry, my lady, these aren''t human bodies. Only demons from the latest city we sieged.¡±

    Well, he tried. Oh, only demons, it''s fine then ! She wanted to reply something sarcastic for a second but deemed better to keep silent and appear dignified.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    From the side, a pack of guards came, dragging along a group of chained people. They were maybe a little more than twenty, and they all had something slightly different from the regular human. Be it long ears or small horns. A tail here, a pair of slit pupils there. Someone had a greyish skin.

    But other than that they looked like normal people. Old people, young people, children, women and men with all sort of builds. Erin guessed that almost none of them was fit enough to be a soldier.

    Some people brought new stakes and replaced the burnt ones. Before long the demons were all tied or chained to the wooden pillars. Then from the gates of the main tower, another group of soldiers arrived. Among them was a woman with wavy brown hair. She wore a white and gold toga over a shiny, immaculate plate armour with silvery decorations. Her attire probably costed more than the castle itself, but she didn''t have the air of a rich noblewoman. She looked like an intimidating general. Her identity wasn''t hard to figure out.

    A herald stepped on a platform. ¡°The Great Sorceress will now proceed to execute these heretic northerners !¡±

    Cheers and hearty applauses from the crowd as the woman joined the herald on the platform. Erin felt appalled deep down. The captain came to her side and once again apologized. ¡°My lady, it seems we are about to witness a rather dark spectacle. If you wish to be spared the vision and go to your chambers, I-¡±

    ¡°It is fine,¡± she interrupted, keeping her composure. ¡°We shall stay here until it''s done and greet the Great Sorceress thereafter.¡±

    The rider nodded and turned his attention back to the platform. Erin looked at Azcheron, who returned the stare. He made a complicated expression. They both knew it was the best course of action if they wanted to get on Karia''s good side. They had to look like they supported her cause. Not that they had decided to join her side or anything, but they were giving themselves as many choices as they could.

    Even if she knew that the ''spectacle'' was going to displease her, for now Erin would swallow her bitterness and grit her teeth.

    The herald resumed his announcement once the spectators calmed down. ¡°For the crimes of depravity, belligerence, and heresy ! The sentence is irrevocable ! On behalf of the Emperor, these heretics shall be purged by the flames of the Great Sorceress !¡±

    Another thunder of applause. Do they really have the right to do that ? No, I guess it''s true the Emperor himself is allowing it, or even encouraging it...

    Erin would force herself to watch even if nobody cared about what she was doing right now.

    Karia raised her palms toward the sky, and the courtyard was suddenly hot.

    Erin would watch because she would be trampling on her own morals, what was left of it anyway. She became a knight, joined the mercenaries, protected villages... and now, she would let people being burned alive. The least she could do was to witness their last moments.

    Fire erupted from the base of the stakes, engulfing the demons in pillars of flames.

    Erin placidly watched the demons struggling as they tried to untie themselves, reaching for imaginary saviours that would never come. She calmly listened as horrifying screams and cries meshed together with booming cheers and claps.

    The pillars grew larger, the heat became oppressing. Only shadows could be grasped through the flames.

    And Erin felt something breaking inside her as an ignoble realization hit her.

    After some time, the fire dimmed, until only small flames remained on the blackened bodies. One more round of applause and acclamations, but to Erin it sounded like background noise. She could only focus on the sizzling of what little flesh was left from the charred bodies, and the crumbling chunks of ashes falling on the ground.

    Erin felt sad. Not for the reason she''d have imagined. No, it wasn''t exactly sadness. She was disgusted with herself, perhaps. She really wanted to avoid Azcheron''s eyes now. Because she knew mindless torture displeased him, and then... she''d have to fake a disturbed expression or something like that.

    Not that it would be hard.

    She was already disturbed by her own indifference toward what she had just witnessed.

    * * *

    ¡°Lady Verald, is that right ?¡± Karia inquired, though she probably had her answer when she glanced at Erin and absorbed everything about her, including her ring. ¡°Please take a sit, food will be served soon.¡±

    Erin could smell the chicken in the kitchen. How timely. Nothing like burnt people to make you crave for roasted chicken, I guess ?

    They were in the main tower, in a sort of hall. It was rather empty aside from the occasional dusty decoration and tapestry, and a single massive wooden table. Karia was sitting at one end of it, while her guards and officers either stood or were sitting on the other side.

    Erin complied and took a chair not far from Karia. Azcheron sat next to Erin, ignoring the curious look the Great Sorceress gave him. Lady Verald acted her role and deemed proper to introduce him before it became awkward.

    ¡°This is lord Azcheron. A... guest of the Verald house.¡±

    That should do it. And it did. Karia nodded and signalled for a servant to prepare one more serving. Even heroes didn''t bother to question the four great houses of the Empire.

    ¡°What brings you north, my lady, my lord ?¡± the sorceress asked very courteously. It was hard to believe that such a fine and polite woman had just executed two dozens of poor souls in a very gruesome way.

    But then again, Erin and Azcheron themselves had no qualms killing people and casually chatting or eating just after. She realized yet again how cold she was. Well, no time for moral dilemmas. I have to make the plan work.

    ¡°My uncle sent us. We are to cross the border and reach Atharemine.¡±

    ¡°Surely you will require an escort ? I can guess you''re not lacking military prowess yourself, but I must insist.¡±

    ¡°And I must decline. We do not require protection, nor can we afford it. There is a reason we came in such small numbers, unannounced, avoiding the main road.¡±

    Karia squinted her eyes. ¡°Fair enough... May I ask about that reason ? Rather, what curious business do you have in Atharemine ?¡±

    ¡°Divulging anymore would put our mission at risk.¡± Seeing Karia frowning, Erin carried on. ¡°Do not misinterpret me, the Palace has the utmost trust in the Great Sorceress. But the fewer the people knowing about us are, the better. You are to act as if we do not exist. If all goes well, good news will reach you in no time.¡±

    Silence reigned while people brought plates to Karia''s end of the table. She and her two guests were served, then the servants left, probably to fetch the officers'' meals this time.

    The sorceress let out a long sigh before eventually replying. ¡°I admit I do not like it when the top brass keeps secrets from me. Especially when it concerns my war.¡± She took a bite before continuing. ¡°However, I imagine this is for the good of the Empire.¡±

    She was now staring at Azcheron. That was the plan overall. Acting as if they were on an off the record and mysterious mission. Azcheron would be kept as enigmatic as possible, so that Karia would assume whatever pleased her.

    Now, obviously, the bluff wouldn''t last. Varymiel''s orders would eventually reach Karia''s camp ¨C by now the spymaster should have long known that they went north. But Azcheron wanted to visit the Free Cities before they got sacked, so they had to cross the border no matter what. They could always join Karia''s army later, with a small apology, a demon lord''s head as a token of good faith for instance. Or not. Nothing was set in stone yet. For now, Erin had to keep playing the game.

    ¡°You are perceptive,¡± she said, more or less figuring that Karia mistook Azcheron for an assassin. ¡°I do hope our circumstances will remain secret.¡±

    ¡°You have my word. But since you asked it yourself, I have to warn you that my plans regarding the war won''t change. We will march on Pelirise soon, and Atharemine will be our next target. I cannot guarantee your safety if you are still in the city when it happens.¡±

    ¡°I know. If you haven''t heard anything from Atharemine by then, consider that we failed. In any case, we will be either dead or outside the city when you reach it, so don''t hold back.¡±

    The Great Sorceress closed her eyes. She might have wanted to avoid having a Verald''s blood on her hands, but orders were orders, and so she''d obey. For now. At least as long as she believes the order is legit and is coming from my uncle...

    ¡°The other side of the border is chaotic. Soldiers and mercenaries are patrolling and hunting down every Imperial folk they find, fearing our spies. Bandits are roaming the lands, attacking everybody and prospering on the war. You''ll have to be careful. I''ve already lost a lot of men to them.¡±

    Erin nodded. ¡°We''ll want to go in as soon as possible.¡±

    ¡°Then you should do it this evening. It''ll be a moonless night. I can make you cross safely.¡±

    They finished their meal. That went well. I guess I''ll have to thank Azcheron for letting me do things for once. It''s curious how it all goes quite smoothly and cordially when I''m the one talking...

    She smiled to herself, but refrained from being overjoyed. It could be that she saw through me, or had already received orders from the Capital, and she''s preparing a trap for us... No way to know for now.

    Eventually, they all stood up. Karia called some servants once more. ¡°You should get some rest while you can. Rooms have been arranged for you.¡±

    Erin nodded, even though they only needed one room. Before leaving, she gave a knight salute. ¡°Thank you for your support, Great Sorceress.¡±

    That night, Erin and Azcheron would set foot in northern territory.

 41 - The northern campaign III

    ¡°The grasslands make for the majority of the northern territory. Truly, outside the Free Cities, there isn''t as much as a soul. You have valleys, hills, plains, forests. Animals, yes, but people ? No. If you manage to go further north, you can find the Ash mountains. Beyond that, who knows ? No, it''s not like the Ash mountains are a deadly place like the western mountains. Probably not ? We don''t know. Because very few are the ones who reach the ashes. Most of the time, they''ll freeze to death or they''ll encounter bandits. Hm ? Of course there are bandits. I said you couldn''t find souls and people, only animals. What do you think bandits are ? They stink, they''re hairy and they don''t know how to speak properly. Hah.¡±

    -Saraela, captain of Atharemine''s city watch¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Dawn came, and the eastern sunlight allowed Azcheron and Erin to finally see the hills and valleys in all their beauty. It was summer, but here the weather wasn''t exactly hot, it actually felt almost fresh. That itself was hinting at the harsh winters of these lands. Of course, the Imperial army knew that too, and the point was probably to conquer as much of the north as possible before the cold and the snows came. That would explain why Karia was restlessly sieging one city after the other.

    ¡°I was somewhat surprised,¡± Azcheron said as he and Erin slowly rode down a grassy slope.

    ¡°About ?¡±

    ¡°The Great Sorceress, of course.¡±

    Erin gave a wry smile. ¡°What were you expecting ?¡±

    He scratched his chin. ¡°Eh, I don''t know. But heroes surely aren''t what they seem. Very different from the ones in books.¡±

    The noble paladin Oscar is a massive jerk, the brave lady Karia is some kind of fanatic, and Roharl... it''s not hard to figure he has his own secrets.

    ¡°I was also surprised by that woman. For a different reason, actually.¡± Azcheron glanced at Erin, waiting for her to continue. ¡°The fanatical hatred of demons aside, she almost seemed like a sympathetic general. A devoted leader, considerate of her troops... And somewhat gullible too. I almost feel bad for tricking her.¡±

    The Saint gazed at the green scenery, thinking. ¡°Hmm.¡±

    We can''t assume yet that we successfully tricked her, but for now nothing fishy happened, so...

    ¡°...Is it weird ?¡± she asked in a hesitant tone that disconcerted Azcheron.

    What''s wrong with you, dear Erin ? He squinted his eyes. ¡°I don''t know, why would it be ?¡±

    Erin''s horse stopped. He looked at her, a few meters away, before coming very close and staring straight into her eyes.

    ¡°Your mind is clouded. A dull sword cannot cut through the leaf. Only a sharp mind can wield a sharp sword,¡± he said confidently.

    ¡°...What ?¡±

    Azcheron tilted his head. ¡°What do you mean ''what'' ? Don''t you understand why I''m saying ? Aren''t you a swordsman ?¡±

    Erin showed a crooked smile barely hiding her internal cringing. ¡°Were you quoting one of Anton''s novels, by any chance ?¡± He nodded confidently, and she sighed. ¡°Yes, I imagined that much...¡±

    He shrugged off the awkwardness. ¡°Well, you get what I mean.¡±

    ¡°Do I ? I''m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Ah, come on. Tell me what''s wrong before you get the both of us killed during a battle.¡±

    She kept silent for a while, frowning, before eventually speaking. ¡°It''s just that I''ve always hated self-righteous people and pointless slaughter. Now I realized that not only I indulge in these things I hate, but I also became indifferent toward it.¡±

    If I say you''re just going through character development, will you hit me ?

    ¡°Are you worried that you''re turning in a villain or something ? That you''re becoming evil ? Looks like you''re morally conflicted !¡±

    ¡°Shut up.¡± She knitted her brows even further. ¡°It''s a moral conflict in name only. I''m just dealing with disgust toward myself right now. It''ll pass.¡±

    Azcheron gave her a radiant grin. ¡°Disgust is fine. Anger, frustration and disdain are fine. You''re fine. The fact that you''re aware of it and disturbed by it, that means you''re still human.¡± He leaned even closer than before, his nose almost touching hers. ¡°And yes, you''re a hypocrite. You kill in cold blood, yet you still cling to some fragile ideals and morals. You could say you''re not any different from the others. But it''s fine. I''m the one causing you to murder all these people. It''s my fault, your job is to protect me and I jump into trouble at the first opportunity, right !¡±

    ¡°...You sound like you''re bragging.¡±

    He backed away and sat on his saddle. ¡°Yes, exactly. You can blame it on me. You can say you''re influenced by my company. After all, am I not an uncaring, hypocritical bastard too ?¡±

    He paused, thinking up a stylish line, before going on. ¡°So don''t hate yourself for such things, dear Erin. It''s fine. I like you the way you are, and I still will even if you become evil and sadistic.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

    She was fazed for a second, but managed to counter attack soon enough. ¡°Don''t casually babble such cool things to a pure maiden.¡± She got her smirk back. ¡°Bloody oaf.¡±

    ¡°What, you''re a pure maiden now ?¡± he mocked. ¡°Did I make your heart skip a beat ?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Young ladies are known to fall in love over less than that.¡±

    ¡°True, forgive me, my lady. How did you like that captain treating you like a delicate flower, by the way ?¡±

    Erin clicked her tongue and began to ride away. Heh. Well, at least we avoided drama ! I don''t need that in my tale.

    Azcheron followed her. He grumbled as he noticed he couldn''t keep with her pace without falling from his mount. Petty revenge.

    * * *

    A week later, they reached a forest. From the woods, Atharemine was only a day away. They were glad to camp in the forest that night, since it was much safer than the hills. Azcheron was especially happy, because he could use his abominable ear-fruit artefact.

    Not that they really were fearing for their own safety. They took turns to keep watch, and even individually they would manage to fend off any kind of threat. But the damn ear-thing was still an enigma and therefore Azcheron wanted to test it. At least he''d see if the wild beasts were affected. Erin and the horses didn''t seem do suffer from any loss of balance or sudden nausea. And since bandits were using it before, it was obvious it could be used to protect a group. Maybe it only worked on people approaching, not people already close ? Or there was another mysterious criteria. Azcheron hoped to get some answer during the night. The fire should attract the biggest lurkers of the forest, he thought while rubbing his hands together.

    And indeed, it did attract large lurkers. Not the size Azcheron was expecting. Even better. As the groans and vomiting sounds were increasing around the camp, he thought Karia''s troops might have tried to ambush them. He examined the surroundings, and after being proved wrong, gently shook Erin''s shoulder to wake her.

    ¡°Dear Erin,¡± he whispered. ¡°Wake up, we have friends visiting us. They seem somewhat indisposed, should we check on them ?¡±

    She muttered some insult as she half-opened her eyes only to see the smile of Azcheron.

    ¡°Shhh. Listen !¡± He silenced her until he made sure she could hear the guttural sounds and moans of pain. His smile reached his ears and he was pretty sure he had the face of a merry madman. ¡°What kind of animal would make such noises, I wonder... Do you have an idea ?¡±

    She still seemed sleepy and therefore probably had trouble focusing and understanding that Azcheron was serious, so he helped her a bit.

    ¡°Here''s a hint ! It''s an animal that doesn''t wash very often.¡±

    Erin''s eyes widened and she reached for her dagger in a split second. ¡°Bandits !?¡±

    ¡°Congratulations ! You won the first prize. I give you half of them.¡±

    She cursed and grabbed her armour and gear. ¡°Are you kidding me ? You told me your ignoble ear-thing would keep us safe, yet I wake up surrounded by bandits.¡±

    ¡°Puking bandits,¡± Azcheron corrected her. ¡°And we''re safe, aren''t we ?¡±

    It was rather true. There wasn''t a ruffian here who was far enough to be unaffected by the artefact, and in such a state nobody would manage to get up and attack, not even hold a bow or throw a knife.

    ¡°So what, do we murder them all now ?¡± she asked as she strapped one last dagger to her belt.

    ¡°Something along these lines. Hopefully you won''t have those morals thingies hindering you ?¡± he couldn''t help mocking her.

    She grunted, not bothering to answer, so he carried on.

    ¡°Well, I was thinking about finding their leader and their camp before doing that, so we can bring some heads to the lord of Atharemine. It''d make it easier for us to enter peacefully. Anyway, I have an idea.¡±

    She nodded and sat down, letting him handle the situation. He turned off the artefact and waited for the dozen of bandits to come to their senses. As the naive, brutish scoundrels that they were, the bandits were quick to cast aside their confusion and got their act together. Pointing their swords at the two, greedily gazing at their gear, purses and horses, and finally staring at Erin with lustful eyes.

    One of the bandits, in the back, had a particularly horny smile. It displeased Azcheron. Soon that bandit had no head. Ah... My bad, the wind blade just went off. The others turned around as they heard the sound of a head and a corpse falling on the ground, but in the end they ignored it, probably because of the darkness.

    ¡°Good evening, friends !¡± Azcheron greeted them with open arms, literally. ¡°Are you perhaps in search of company ? Here, let us sit around the fire together, and tell each other stories of past deeds !¡±

    ¡°Shut yerr'' trap !¡± yelled one bulky bandit with a single horn on his temple.

    Ah, I love bandits. They''re the same wherever you go. Always with the savage speech, the poor manners, the dirty appearance. It gives me a sense of comfort, knowing that there is some sort of universal law about them.

    ¡°There''s only one sorta company we need an'' it''s yerr'' girl right''ere !¡±

    The bandits all laughed heartily, until another lustful-looking head fell. It belonged to the one who spoke last. Now they were rather wary and suspicious of Azcheron. Erin was still sitting against a tree, arms crossed, but, he knew, ready to swing and relieve a few more brigands of their heads.

    Since they were now paying attention, he asked his question. ¡°Is there a leader among your esteemed bunch ?¡±

    Silence was the only answer he got. Perhaps they were shy, so he gave them some encouragement by cutting off another head before continuing.

    ¡°Very well, mud-eating wretches. Hear me out, you will be given two options. Choose wisely. You can each get unburdened from the sack of manure you call your heads, or you can introduce us to your leader and your camp, and keep your heads.¡± For now.

    One of the less stupid-looking bandits spoke up. ¡°Lord wizard, please don''t kill us ! Ye'' see, the boss will hang us if we bring''im yerr'' lordship like that !¡±

    ¡°Then if we agree to become your prisoners for a short period of time, it should be fine, right ? Or I can grant you a fate worse than hanging.¡± he added with a smile. He wasn''t sure himself if he was trying to ease them or to scare them.

    That did the trick regardless. The bandits hesitantly surrounded Azcheron and Erin as they calmly packed their stuff and grabbed the reins of their horses. The brigands guided them outside the forest, and they walked for some time.

    It was dawn when they arrived at a large valley with a sort of tiny village at its bottom. Pointy tents and some huts, with a large, decorated tent at the centre. Said decorations were furs and skins of dangerous animals, lots of swords and spears, and the bones of defeated enemies. Probably. The cracked skulls looked fairly defeated in any case. That''s a bandit chief''s tent if I ever saw one, Azcheron expertly concluded.

    As they walked down the valley and entered the camp, more and more ruffians gathered around them, smirking and snickering. Intimidating stares and muscle showing was what Azcheron got, whereas a decidedly lucky Erin was honoured with sniffing noses and faces dripping with lechery.

    He glanced at her and she made an expression that seemed to say ''I might end up killing a bit more than my promised half''.

    Well, she can slaughter the whole camp for what I care ! I''m a generous person and I don''t mind handing out my entire share to her. Is this what they call friendship ? No, could it be love !? Oh, Erin !

    Once again, he glanced at her, trying to convey his feelings of generosity and kindness through a well-engineered smile, but the frown he got in return almost made him flinch. She didn''t seem very receptive to his smiles right now. Perhaps later.

    Meanwhile, they arrived at a large space in front of the chief''s tent. It appeared that all the outlaws in the camp were massed on what probably served as the main plaza. Some ruffian went inside the tent and exited it shortly thereafter. A few seconds later, the chief showed himself.

    Or was he the chief ?

    The man had a lean, chiseled body, tanned skin, flowing blonde hair, a square jaw, a nice smile with pointy teeth and sky blue eyes with slit pupils. Who was that handsome man ? How the hell was he managing to look so clean and pretty in this pile of dirt they called a village ?

    Well, they didn''t call it a village but they''re certainly acting like this place is one. Whatever.

    ¡°What do we have here ?¡± the demon asked. ¡°Oh, new friends ? Please forgive the rudeness of my comrades. I am known as Kalithazar, a mere thief. Would it be improper of me to ask for your names ?¡±

    Azcheron''s heart broke, as he felt his universal law of banditry crumble under the existence of this man.

 42 - The northern campaign IV

    ¡°The Free Cities are named after the deities worshipped by the demons. Supposedly. The bigger the city, the more important the deity they represent. For instance, Atharemine is the goddess of night and darkness, mother of the world. People pray to her when they have insomnia, but I dare say she doesn''t answer very often. Irixil is the deity of winter, and all the crap that comes with it. They say that colds and other winter diseases are the products of Irixil''s whims. I wonder what sort of god bestows gastro-enteritis upon its followers, but alright, why not. Next, Pelirise, goddess of sun. And sunburns. Strangely enough, she''s also the goddess of summer, though the northerners don''t see much of that up here. But then, during most years they even don''t see much of the sun either.

    -anonymous traveller¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    There isn''t really any need for names, he''ll be dead soon enough anyway... Azcheron grumbled mentally, for he felt he had lost a battle of theatrics before it even began. This Kalithazar or whatever his name was, almost took the Saint by surprise.

    A handsome bandit was something rare. A polite bandit was something new. A nice bandit was absurd. All this at the same time was unfathomable. Azcheron looked at Erin, searching for some answers, but she seemed as puzzled as him.

    He sighed. Might as well act friendly and get some intel on the state of the north. We can kill them all later.

    ¡°Greeting, thief. I am Azcheron, a humble traveller, and this is my associate, Erin. We got ourselves lost in the forest and your employees were kind enough to escort us here, to safety,¡± he said with his best smile. Appearing na?ve and vulnerable was the best way to get people to open out ! Or so Azcheron believed. He never actually tried that, he was much more comfortable with intimidating people with words, or violence, or both.

    It can''t hurt to try new things from time to time.

    ¡°Oh, a traveller, I see !¡± Kalithazar exclaimed with joy. ¡°Are you here for sightseeing ? Or maybe as a merchant ? Northern commodities must be getting pricy in the south, with the war and whatnot... Prosperous times, I gather.¡±

    Wouldn''t it be the fishiest thing ever to say that we''re just visiting ? No one would do that in the middle of a war.

    ¡°Right on point, we are indeed travelling merchants. You''re quite the sharp man, Kalithazar. As expected of a thief, haha !¡±

    ¡°Haha !¡±

    Other bandits started to laugh but with a glance their chief shut them up. Hmm...

    Kalithazar flashed a large, warm smile. ¡°And what is your trade ?¡±

    This is one of these moments when I wish I was an assassin. Then I could answer something amazing like ¡°I sell death !¡± before drawing a dagger from my dark robes...

    Alas he had to make do with a credible cover. ¡°Oh, anything really. We''ll see what we can buy at Atharemine before going back south. Crops, beans, textile, jewels and so on. Would you recommend anything ? Or some other cities that might be of interest ?¡±

    ¡°I must disappoint you again. As you might guess, we suffer from poor relationships with the cities. I do not think I can provide you with information you don''t already possess...¡±

    Azcheron wasn''t surprised. Whether the bandit was lying or genuinely ignorant of the cities'' activities, it didn''t matter that much.

    ¡°I am sure you have many tales of adventures, and every single one of which would most certainly prove interesting and entertaining ! We would be delighted to learn of the culture of... nomads.¡±

    Kalithazar sighed and shook his head. ¡°Hah... you certainly know how to please an ear such as mine. Come, new friend, let us drink. And have breakfast, since the sun is up.¡±

    He clapped his hands and the bandits went to prepare a banquet of some sorts. They gathered tables and chairs, also wood for a fire, and brought meat, fruits and wine. Barrels and barrels and barrels again, more wine barrels than Azcheron ever saw in his entire life. And they all looked heavy and very much filled. Were they supposed to drink it all ?

    Well... breakfast here sure has vibes of celebration, eh...

    Erin and him watched as Kalithazar gave out orders to his surprising well-disciplined bandits. They even fetched zithers and flutes. Could they really play these, though ?

    They don''t seem surprised by what''s happening...

    Something was bugging him. Yes, it looked as if it was a regular occurrence to them. They knew what they were doing. It wouldn''t be that surprising for bandits to hold banquets and feasts, but...

    He whispered to Erin. ¡°Be careful. It could be that they''ll try to poison us or kill us while we have our guard down.¡±

    It never hurts to be careful ! Careful is good. Careful is life, thought the hypocritical Azcheron.

    Erin nodded with a half-smile. She seemed to be mocking his convenient surge of carefulness too, but she''d be wary, no doubt. She wasn''t the kind of woman that''d trust bandits just because they invited you to a banquet. That was in itself the fishiest thing ever, so...The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    And wary she was indeed. After all, just a few minutes ago all these men seemed very eager to rape her or something like that. And now they acted like they were celebrating ? Azcheron probably didn''t even need to warn her.

    Kalithazar showed them to their seats, and the bandits started playing music. It sounded like they actually knew how to play these instruments. This is absurd, Azcheron frowned.

    ¡°We have some boars that we killed yesterday,¡± the demon pointed to large plates covered with iron lids. ¡°Will that satisfy you ?¡±

    Azcheron nodded and waved his hand in a flustered manner. ¡°It''s an embarrassing display of hospitality. I''m not sure we''re worthy of it...¡± I''m planning to kill you once we''re done with the food, after all !

    ¡°You''re my guests ! I say, my guests deserve the very best I can offer !¡±

    ¡°Well said ! If all bandits knew how to provide entertainment the way you do... Well, there would be more bandits in this world.¡±

    ¡°How so ?¡± Kalithazar wondered with a frozen smile.

    ¡°It''s no secret that people in your profession are rather short-lived. It surely has to do with their poor display of warmth toward the rest of the world.¡±

    ¡°Because bandits like to kill people,¡± the demon shrugged. ¡°Don''t sugarcoat it. I''m no exception !¡±

    ¡°Yes, and the same way bandits like killing people, some people like to kill bandits.¡±

    ¡°...And have you ever met those people ?¡±

    Azcheron laid back in his chair and smiled widely as he sniffed his wine, yet refrained from drinking it. ¡°Oh, I''m well acquainted with them.¡±

    The bandit chief gulped half his glass and stared at the Saint, who carried on. ¡°Do not brood. It isn''t all that rare for merchants to know a lot of soldiers and mercenaries, and to employ them. Don''t you think ?¡±

    ¡°I very much think so. But there''s no need to make this conversation more awkward than it already is. We bandits kill people, among them merchants and travellers, and you merchants employ sell-swords to kill bandits ! Such are the ways of the world. You would never expect people like us to drink and chat together, yet here we are.¡±

    ¡°Yet here we are.¡±

    Kalithazar made his razor-sharp teeth shine under the morning sun. He then got up, raised his glass, and addressed the crowd. ¡°To merchants and bandits !¡±

    Cheers and laughs from the entire camp. Somebody deemed the moment proper to make a joke. ¡°What happens when a bandit marries a merchant ? Their child becomes a smuggler, arhaharh !¡± More laughs, though Azcheron didn''t know if it was supposed to be funny. If anyone asked him, he''d say no.

    Kalithazar sat back. ¡°Well, merchants, bandits and smugglers... We have to stick together in these times of turmoil ! All of us have it hard because of the war, don''t we ?¡±

    Earlier you were saying these were prosperous times...

    Azcheron eventually raised his glass too. ¡°I''m sure the soldiers are more troublesome to you than to us.¡±

    ¡°Oh, you have no idea. Just the other day, we had a skirmish with a patrol from Atharemine. And I''ve had men captured by that witch from the Empire. Ever heard of her ?¡±

    ¡°Great Sorceress Karia, yes. We''ve... heard a great deal about her. We passed through her encampment, and saw the charred people. Haven''t we, Erin ?¡±

    She gazed at him a moment, maybe trying to figure out why he''d reveal that, then went along. ¡°We indeed have.¡±

    ¡°Speaking of which, aren''t you two from the Empire ? You know these parts are dangerous for people of your... origins. You should be careful, you never know what kind of people you''ll meet in the north.¡±

    Funny to hear that from the mouth of a bandit chief whose men tried to kill us in our sleep... Azcheron kept smiling nonetheless.

    ¡°Rest assured, we know how to protect ourselves.¡±

    ¡°You female companion sure looks like she does.¡± Kalithazar squinted his eyes. ¡°You''re an interesting pair. You seem to have quite a bit of knowledge in ''protecting yourselves'', quite a curious bit, for merchants... I was told three of my men have somehow mislaid their own heads in the forest.¡±

    Azcheron smiled. ¡°It''s easy to lose precious belongings in the forest, more so at night. It''s dark, and who knows what sort of wild beast you''ll encounter...¡±

    ¡°True. It was careless of them anyway. Surely they didn''t deserve to keep their heads.¡±

    ¡°I''m sure they didn''t,¡± the Saint concluded.

    Neither Azcheron nor Erin had touched their food or drinks. Eventually everyone else had finished their meal. The Saint stood up, Erin and Kalithazar followed.

    ¡°Leaving ?¡± the demon asked.

    ¡°Yes, I think it''s time we depart. I do not wish to abuse of your hospitality, and we have to reach Atharemine today.¡± He glanced at Erin, who nodded. He turned his back toward the bandit to hide his smile. ¡°But before that...¡±

    ¡°Yes, before that...¡±

    As he heard Erin drawing her sword, Azcheron turned around. He was surprised to face Kalithazar and his horde of bandits, all geared up, taking out swords from the wine barrels ¨C which were obviously not wine barrels in the first place. Kalithazar himself was pointing his blade at Azcheron''s torso, though the demon was also surprised to have Erin''s blade rubbing against his own neck. A deadly triangle of some sort, in which the protagonists were locked. With the crowd of armed brigands circling them.

    ¡°Now this is a rather curious twist,¡± the bandit chief said in a flat tone that had nothing to do with his polite, warm voice from before.

    ¡°I concur. Were you planning to kill us from the beginning ?¡± Azcheron wondered, not surprised.

    ¡°Of course we were. We are bandits. Though usually people in your situation are taken by surprise, making desperate expressions. That''s the fun part of our little set up, and you ruined it. I guess you were also plotting our demise.¡±

    ¡°Of course we were. You are bandits. Your heads will fetch us a good price and some demon lord''s favours. Why do you think we let your minions capture us and lead us to your camp ?¡±

    Kalithazar sighed. ¡°What now ? We can''t very much kill each other mindlessly, can''t we ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t see why we couldn''t,¡± Azcheron casually said. He could still cut everyone''s head before the demon could even think about moving his sword. Which he couldn''t anyway, because the sword would be immobilized with magic just in case.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn''t want you two dying so soon.¡± Kalithazar smiled and looked at Erin. ¡°Especially you. The guys want to have a go at you. Or I could save you and make you my woman, if I cared enough.¡±

    Erin''s blade moved faintly and carved a thin line through the skin of the demon''s neck. A single drop of sweat rolled along his face, yet he kept smirking. Azcheron was about to behead the man when he said something surprising. Well, the only possible thing to try and save his own life, really.

    ¡°I have a proposal. A duel. I believe they solve quarrels like that where you''re from ?¡±

    ¡°How strange of you to suggest that. What do we have to gain from that ? We could kill everyone here and be done with it.¡±

    ¡°I don''t know how you plan to do that. Just because you know some magic and killed a couple of my guys, you think you can take my entire camp ?¡±

    Hmm, nice bluff. If only I ''just knew some magic'', then you''d have a chance...

    Erin took the initiative. ¡°What are the stakes ?¡± She seemed to like the idea of a duel.

    ¡°Well, if you kill me, the camp is yours. The strongest leads, that''s how we do things.¡±

    What good is a bunch of lawless dirty slobs whose heads have a bounty on it ? Well, I can see a few uses, such as an accompaniment for Kalithazar''s own head, but...

    ¡°And if you win ?¡± Azcheron didn''t really need to ask. And it wasn''t as if he''d lose. He didn''t intend to respect any sort of rules if he found them inconvienient.

    ¡°Once you''re dead, we''ll take the girl, of course.¡± The Saint rolled his eyes. ¡°Ah, don''t make such a face. We''re bandits, that''s what we do. What would people think of us if we started to treat women nicely and spare people ? Heh.¡±

    ¡°I admit I''m thankful to you, Kalithazar.¡± The demon raised a brow, waiting for Azcheron to continue. ¡°I was confused at first, but it appears you''re a real bandit, despite your charming looks. This turn of events somehow filled the gap in my heart,¡± he said as he put his palm on his chest.

    ¡°That''s fortunate. I don''t like people fighting half-heartily.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but he won''t be the one fighting,¡± Erin said.

    Kalithazar tilted his head. Azcheron wasn''t surprised. I saw that coming the moment you asked about stakes...

    She flashed a vicious smile. ¡°I have quite a lot of frustration to vent.¡±

 43 - The northern campaign V

    ¡°Duelling is typical of the Imperial culture. Solving disagreements by stabbing each other to death, what a civilized tradition. Here in the north, we do things with much more thinking involved. Issues and contentions are brought before the city''s lord, who then pronounces his judgement. The matter is settled and the quarrelling parties are expected to respect the lord''s decision. It works very well when the ruling lord is a fair, reasonable person. Less so when the demon lord corresponds exactly to the image the Empire has of our race ¨C vicious, mad and evil. I reckon that in some cases, agreeing to a duel would be a better option than having your entire family, and yourself, arbitrary getting sent to the gallows because you were selling overpriced wheat.

    -citizen of Atharemine¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Kalithazar displayed a large smile as his minions helped him wear his fluted steel armour. It seemed a bit heavier than Erin''s gear, but with his build the demon would probably manage to keep up with her speed.

    Erin gazed at the scene, her eyes wandering on the bandit''s breastplate, the helm, the leggings, gloves, the two-handed sword and everything she''d have to face. A wall of steel, yes. But a wall with cracks, Azcheron observed. Kalithazar''s armour had no rondel covering the juncture of the torso and the arm, and the back of the thighs weren''t really protected either. These body parts had only mail to rely on.

    Eventually, Erin turned to Azcheron. ¡°Help me take this thing off,¡± she pointed to her own armour.

    He frowned. ¡°Are you sure ?¡±

    ¡°Yes. I don''t need it. It could get me killed, actually.¡±

    Azcheron complied silently. Of course, he would be ready to use magic at any time if he believed Erin''s life was in danger. He didn''t care about her honour or pride. He only cared about her life. He wasn''t even sure she''d care either about honour and pride. Maybe she''d be angry for a moment, but then they''d move on. But not if she died. He didn''t mind exterminating the whole bandit camp in a second if he deemed it necessary. Only if it was necessary. For now, he''d trust Erin.

    She stretched a bit once she was unburdened. She was now only wearing a tunic, pants and boots. A random swing could kill her. Well, she surely wouldn''t let a random swing kill her, but the risk existed. Though what she lost in defence, she gained back in speed and accuracy. He hoped, at least.

    She strapped two daggers to her belt, then grabbed her sword and round shield. And that was it, she stepped in the duel grounds. Kalithazar was already taller than her, but now he looked even more intimidating, all clad in steel.

    ¡°I can''t guarantee I won''t injure you, but I''d say it''s fine. We can still enjoy you even if you''re missing a few limbs.¡± The bandits all laughed at their chief''s taunt. ¡°And if you die, well... I''m sure there are some among us who won''t mind it !¡± Sparse laughs. Kalithazar let out one last chuckle before putting his helmet on. Plain but sturdy, with only a slit for the sight.

    How does it go usually ? The fast one versus the strong one. The little one versus the big one. I''ve always thought of Erin as the latter. Hammering and punching and cleaving people in half. Strong and brutal.

    Erin made her sword spin as she walked around the arena, kicking away stones and branches that could hinder her footwork.

    I did watch her training with Karlos, but wooden swords don''t count. I''ve never seen her fighting seriously without her armour.

    The two duellists stood a few steps away. A bandit blew a horn, signalling the start of the duel.

    With the mad eyes of an eagle glaring at a prey, Erin leaped forward. She thrusted, aiming for the visor of Kalithazar''s helm. He turned his head at the last moment, but the blow still hit the helmet.

    He staggered backward, probably deafened and disorientated. Erin poked yet again, at the armpit gap this time. The demon barely had the time to deflect her blow, and was pushed away once more. She kept advancing, bashing her shield on him, and tried to pierce through the gaps of the armour for the third time. Kalithazar sidestepped and slashed, but his sword only met Erin''s shield.

    The demon followed up with more striking and hammering with his two handed sword, but Erin arched her body backward, swiftly dodging every attack with a relative ease. A heavy strike came, she deflected with her shield and rolled right beside the demon, slashing at his leg as she got up behind him. But her sword missed the thigh and bounced back against the greave.

    ¡°That''s one thick armour you have here,¡± she said, not sounding surprised. Even Azcheron knew a regular sword couldn''t slice through steel armour. But Erin''s blows were usually strong enough to dent steel, yet it remained intact.

    ¡°Do you like it ? I borrowed it from some fancy Imperial general''s corpse... This war is truly a gold mine.¡±

    Erin snorted and muttered an incantation. Her blade began to glow in a faint light.

    Hardening ? Ah... Azcheron realized Erin''s shield was in a rather pitiful state. A large gash was carved in it. It was now obvious that it would not provide a safe protection against the two-handed sword.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    She discarded her shield and ran toward her opponent. A horizontal slash came, she bent her body and glided on the ground. Gripped one of her daggers and slashed at the armpit as she passed by Kalithazar''s right side.

    He groaned, though the injury didn''t seem deep enough to be fatal. Blood dripping, but not flowing as it would if an artery was cut.

    ¡°You know, maybe there was a reason that general died. Maybe he thought heavy armour made him invincible. Surely you''re smarter than that ?¡± Erin scoffed as she played with her dagger.

    Kalithazar just growled and rushed toward her. He kept swinging, using the long reach of his weapon to make up for the heaviness and slowness. Erin didn''t seem to be pressured though, as she sidestepped around him while dodging or parrying.

    From time to time, she''d step in closer for a second, slashing with her sword, and chipping at the fluted armour. But Kalithazar was now very wary of his weak spots, never turning his back to her and always mindful of the gaps of his attire.

    In all likelihood, Erin was trying to drag the fight. A burdened Kalithazar would tire, and Erin wouldn''t, since she was as light as a feather. Or so she seemed to be, without her knight armour ¨C Azcheron had never seen her move with such speed and grace, even though she was already surprisingly agile even when she was clad in plate.

    A somewhat slower blow from the demon allowed Erin to step in and circle him. She struck his leg, her glowing sword cutting through the chainmail. It must have hit something, and deep, because Erin was then covered in red. Kalithazar fell to his knees in a whimper. Azcheron could almost hear the demon gritting his teeth inside his helmet, as he planted his sword in the ground to help him rise to his feet.

    Of course, Erin forbade it. Before he could stand and turn to face her, she stabbed his right armpit once more with her dagger. He jerked his arm and lunged at her, sending her flying away. But it worsened his own wound, as the dagger was still stuck under his shoulder. Erin got up in a second, rubbing her bruised jaw and wearing a confident smirk.

    Because now the roles were inverted. She hammered him restlessly, pushing him closer to the crowd of spectators with each blow as he struggled to defend with one arm only. The glowing steel twisting and carving its light into the air with wide circles and high-pitched slashing noises, and the sounds and sparks of clashing steel, and the blood flowing form the demon''s injuries with each movement, all that was enthralling Azcheron.

    Seeing Erin drenched in blood and sweat, unleashing her brutality like that, it reminded him of the first time they met. It reminded him of how shining she was, heavily wounded yet chopping off bandits'' heads with ease, in an elegant, deadly dance.

    It was the same. No, perhaps there was even more beauty now. Her movements were graceful despite their monstrous violence. She wasn''t fighting as some mad berserker, he understood that. Her strikes were accurate and precise.

    Erin made Kalithazar retreat into the crowd of bandits, and she kept attacking. Cutting the bandits that couldn''t get away in time, not caring one bit about the collateral damage. She wouldn''t let something like that stop her, obviously. It could even be that she was slashing the ruffians on purpose, as a revenge of some sorts.

    Drawing in his last bits of power, the demon managed one counter attack. Erin blocked and they were locked in a stalemate. Kalithazar was trying to compensate for his injuries with his tall frame and the heaviness of his armour, but Erin stood firm, for she could use both her arms. Memories of Oscar pressuring Erin in a similar contest of strength came to Azcheron.

    She didn''t give him the leisure to overpower her. She freed one of her hands, enduring all of her opponent'' weight with one arm, grabbed her remaining dagger, and thrusted it through Kalithazar''s visor. He collapsed on Erin, blood flowing from the helm, and she pushed aside the twitching demon, letting him fall loudly on the ground.

    A few spasms later, the demon''s body stopped moving entirely. Utter silence among the bandits, though some already showed horrified expressions. Erin crouched down and with her dagger, cut the straps of the demon''s armour. Took off the tasset and the mail skirt, then got back up.

    What is she doing ?

    She jumped on his crotch. She jumped and kicked and jumped again, and Azcheron could hear splattering, squishing sounds. She was gritting her teeth in a grin that should rather be described as a savage grimace. She kept kicking and smashing the parts until the demon''s pants were soaked in a puddle of red jam. Eventually, she stopped and took a moment to catch her breath, wiping her boots on the dead man''s clothes. Then the beautiful red figure casted her gleeful golden eyes toward Azcheron.

    Maybe his heart skipped a beat that time.

    Indeed, you''re a cruel one. When you don''t kill in indifference, you enjoy it...

    He looked at Erin as if there was nothing else in the world. Redness. Death. And the golden eyes he came to love so much.

    ...And so do I. I would not trade such a sight for anything else in the world.

    In any case, he felt like an idiot for doubting her ability. It wasn''t as if he didn''t know of her skill. She was one of the best warrior he ever saw, and even though he hadn''t met that many, she fought off Oscar. Worrying about a mere bandit hiding in the northern valleys was stupid. Or maybe that was simply proof that he cared. Of course, he''d never admit something like that, especially not to Erin herself. He found it cringe-worthy.

    She came near him. ¡°I feel better. Kept his head intact, by the way. Well, aside from the large wound on the face.¡±

    ¡°How thoughtful of you.¡± He sighed, crossed his arms and tried to sound reproachful. ¡°That was reckless. Was there really any need for that duel ?¡±

    Erin chuckled. ¡°Oh, I''m the reckless one now ? Guess I have whims too.¡±

    ¡°One mistake and you''d have died.¡±

    She wiped the blood from her face. ¡°I know. I suppose I expected you to do something if it looked like I''d lose. Was I wrong ?¡± she asked as if she already knew the answer.

    He snorted and turned toward the crowd of bandits.

    ¡°Now, listen up, dear friends. Your esteemed employer met a rather well-deserved demise, and the terms of our contract were clear. From now on, you''re merchandise. That''s convenient. Didn''t I tell you we were merchants ?¡±

    Of course, hearing that, a few bandits tried to attack or sneak away. Azcheron severed their heads with wind blades. That calmed the others.

    ¡°Heads, heads,¡± he muttered as he counted fifty-two remaining bandits ¨C soon-to-be-heads-only ¨C and sighed. How am I going to transport so many heads... I could make them levitate until we reach the city, but that''s creepy... Ah ?

    ¡°Right, listen up, merchandise ! We''re going to Atharemine ! Don''t ask questions or your head will part from your body ! Any questions ?¡±

    Satisfied of the silence, he then used mana to lift the heads he had previously cut, waving them around and making sure every bandit saw it.

    Cutting fifty heads here and bringing them to Atharemine would be too tiring. Much better to have the bandits bring their own heads and do the deed once we reach the city ! Maybe I''ll keep a handful alive, to use as spies or scapegoats if need be.

    He turned to face Erin, who was putting her armour on. As he helped her fastening the breastplate, he looked at the golden eyes.

    ¡°Something wrong ?¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I know I promised you half, but I feel like you deserve more.¡± She tilted her head, he motioned toward the bandits. ¡°The ignoble things with lustful smiles. You can have them all, just don''t smash their heads in. My gift to you.¡±

    ¡°I''m touched.¡±

    ¡°I damn hope you are. I''m the Saint. My gifts are worth an entire kingdom.¡±

 44 - The northern campaign VI

    ¡°The Free Cities'' architecture isn''t so different from the Empire''s. They''re not that bent on building things as high as possible like in the Capital ¨C they still do build things high sometimes, though ¨C but other than that, a northern city has a castle, houses and walls, like any regular Imperial town. One remarkable thing is the demons'' obsession for ancient-looking architecture, which they reenact with modern technologies and materials ¨C large square stones rather than small bricks, lots of arches, lots of columns, lots of aqueducts, lots of stairs, lots of temples. Oh, they love their temples. The only thing bigger than a temple in a Free City, is the demon lord''s castle. The only thing bigger than a demon lord''s castle is an arrogant demon lord''s castle. And so on. There''s a sort of competition about the size of the castles, among these rulers, and it''s embarrassing.

    -anonymous architect¡±

    * * *

    Saraela

    She was sitting in a chair, listening to the clashing swords and bathing in the sunlight of the afternoon, both coming through the open window of the hall. Today was a rather hot day, a rare occurrence in the north. It was summer, sure, but even during this season the demons could consider themselves lucky to have a clear sky and a bright sun.

    Soon the summer days would end. And soon... the happy days would end too. The Imperial army was capturing cities one after the other, and it was only a matter of time until Atharemine ended up being sieged too.

    When that happens...

    Saraela gripped tightly the handle of the sword laying on her lap, in a black sheathe. Of course, she was afraid. She had never been at war, after all, and here in the north, most demons were the same. Her generation was too young, and too sheltered, she''d say. Bandits were fine. But war ? War was too much for them. It should be too much for the Empire''s youths too, but apparently fanaticism came with an unhealthy dose of recklessness.

    She got to her feet and went to the window. From this floor, she could see the courtyard, and the knights training for the tournament the lord was organizing for his name-day. Saraela had been somewhat eager to take part in it, and she had already passed the qualifications. Some would argue that celebrating during times of danger and chaos was improper, but Saraela knew better than to indulge in such non-sense.

    It was precisely because of the war that celebrations were important. A tournament was good for moral, and the young and fresh soldiers would have a taste of combat before the madness came crashing upon them. And it was the perfect time for Saraela to scout some new talents, and check out the best warriors from the mercenary bands recently arrived.

    She leaned on the window ledge, and kept watching the sparring soldiers down there. Not very impressive, but she was still expecting to face a handful of worthy opponents in the final phases. Those ones weren''t training with the new guys in the courtyard. They didn''t want the others to know what they were capable of. The winner would receive quite a bit of gold, after all.

    The doors bursted open, and she could hear four guards hurriedly entering the hall. ¡°Captain !¡±

    Saraela turned her head. Seeing the looks of distress on her men''s faces, she almost flinched for a moment. Karia''s army ?

    ¡°What is it ?¡± she asked before giving into panic.

    Vraxil, her right-hand man, scratched his ginger beard. ¡°Trouble at the south gate...¡±

    She frowned, but the guard reassured her. ¡°It''s not the Empire, it''s...¡±

    The soldiers looked at each other. ¡°Well, we don''t know how to explain it. I don''t think we''re under attack, but... You''d better come, captain.¡±

    ¡°Fine then.¡± She combed her dark hair behind her small horns and donned her black cloak. The city watch''s cloak, symbol of peace and strength in Atharemine, with the colour of the night goddess, or so they said. It was one more layer that helped keeping the guards warm in the cold days, and a dark enough colour to patrol stealthily at night, and that was all that mattered to the guards... Finally, she fastened her sword to her belt, and led her men outside the castle. They mounted their horses and rode toward the south gate.

    ¡°What do we now about the situation ?¡± she asked Vraxil.

    ¡°Some fifty men standing outside the city, captain. Their leader kept insisting that they wanted to speak to someone high ranked.¡±

    Saraela raised a brow. ¡°Fifty ? Why so few ?¡±

    ¡°Probably bandits,¡± Vraxil growled.

    Again... They prove annoying enough when they raid our patrols, and now they''ve learned how to negotiate and make requests ? She clicked her tongue. Damn animals are getting educated.

    Banditry had been the main issue the city watch had to deal with, these last few years. Hunting bandits wasn''t the watch''s job per-say, but upholding peace and capturing criminals was, and basically every criminal they sentenced to exile had to become a bandit to survive outside the walls. Maybe they could manage on their own during the summers. But the winters here would kill any man without a shelter or allies.

    In any case, the city watch was one the main armed force of Atharemine. It could be said that it was a city watch in name only ¨C they took care of many other duties besides peace-keeping. Especially in these times of war, during which the watch merged with the mercenaries and acted like an army. But said duties were all relative to the town''s peace, so in the end no one had any issue with the current name of the watch.

    Of course, criminals hadn''t always been jailed or exiled by the watch. Saraela remembered that things were done differently when she was little. The previous lord saw hanging as a fair and universal method of problem-solving. The citizens felt the method wasn''t that fair when the lord began to ''solve problems'' in a whimsical, tyrannical fashion. Eventually, the people overthrew the tyranny, and the lord himself was subjugated to some solving.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    Things are much more peaceful nowadays. Except for these pillaging, raping animals lurking around the city... That''s why I have to do my part, for the family''s sake.

    Saraela''s thoughts on banditry were interrupted by a sentinel coming to salute her, as they approached the south wall.

    ¡°Captain Saraela, thank you for-¡±

    ¡°Explain,¡± she hurried the guard as she dismounted.

    Saraela, Vraxil and the sentinel walked up the stairs leading to the top of the rampart. ¡°Yes. It''s, err... strange, captain. They were a bit more than fifty men at first, and now...¡±

    ¡°And now ?¡±

    ¡°Huh, forty.¡±

    Saraela stopped and turned to face the sentinel. ¡°What do you mean ?¡±

    ¡°We don''t know. They just... Their heads just fell on the ground suddenly. As if some spell beheaded them.¡±

    She frowned and glanced at Vraxil, asking with her eyes if the watch had posted battle mages on the wall. He just shrugged.

    ¡°I have no idea what''s happening,¡± the sentinel unnecessarily confessed.

    I''ll see for myself anyway.

    As she climbed the last steps, the faces of the guards posted on the wall came into her sight. Suddenly, there was a strange noise followed by several heavy sounds, and the sentinels made horrified faces.

    A voice came from the other side of the walls. ¡°How long do you intend to make us wait ? The more we wait, the more they try to escape, can''t you see ?¡±

    Saraela hurried to the battlements, and looked down. She had been warned that there had been some beheading done here, but it was always surprising and disturbing to find a pile of headless corpses next to a pile of heads, with a smiling human youth standing arms crossed between the two, and a female knight with a bored expression sitting not far. And in front of it all, a line of shivering, cowering bandits.

    Huh. What the heck...

    ¡°Err, looks like there are only thirty now.¡±

    Yes, I have eyes, thank you.

    ¡°What am I supposed to make of that scene ?¡± she said to no one in particular.

    ¡°I don''t know, captain.¡±

    Saraela glared at the sentinel who clearly was developing a taste for unnecessary replies.

    ¡°Vraxil,¡± she turned toward her right-hand man. ¡°Any of the faces ring a bell to you ? Both among the living, and the detached ones.¡±

    The man took a moment to observe the heads. ¡°Hmm, the... perpetrators ¨C I guess ? ¨C, no clue about them, but they look human. From the Empire, I gather. And the bandits, well,¡± he frowned, ¡°I can''t say for sure at this distance, but doesn''t that head on the top of the pile look like Kalithazar''s ?¡±

    The captain''s eyes widened as she focused on the head Vraxil pointed at. Yes, indeed, it was Kalithazar. Why !?

    ¡°That crazy, manipulative sadist... he got himself killed ?¡±

    ¡°Looks like he tried to trick the wrong victims this time, don''t you think ?¡± the guard said with an obvious glee.

    The blonde smiling youth turned his head toward Saraela and Vraxil and spoke in a loud voice. ¡°Oh, you know him ? Good, that makes it easier for me.¡±

    Huh ? Did he hear us ? From so far away ?

    ¡°Perhaps he''s a mage,¡± Vraxil suggested. Ah... That made sense. The beheading spell, the sound magic. And, probably, the death of Kalithazar.

    ¡°I am indeed. My name is Azcheron, and the lady here is Erin. We''re... merchants. Pleased to meet you, whoever you are.¡±

    A merchant that conveniently knows battle magic, curious fellow... Hah ! Is he taking us for idiots ?

    ¡°...I''m Saraela, captain of the city watch. Tell me, merchant Azcheron, what do you sell, and what is the meaning of this ?¡± she motioned toward the heaps of bloodied body parts.

    ¡°I''ll answer both questions at the same time. I am here to sell you Kalithazar''s head, and his bandits. Or their heads only. Whichever you prefer.¡±

    She squinted her eyes. ¡°Selling ? Do you refer to the bounties ?¡±

    True, Kalithazar''s mob would make anyone who managed to get rid of them rich, but that was the point. Nobody was supposed to capture or kill the entire camp. The city watch couldn''t pay for all these heads right now, they were at war !

    ¡°Nothing of the sort. I only require for my companion and myself to be allowed to enter and stay in Atharemine.¡±

    The captain glanced at Vraxil, seeking his opinion. He shook his head. She sighed and addressed the merchant or whatever the youth was trying to pass himself for. ¡°What sort of merchant would need to bring such... incentive, in order to get granted passage through our gates ?¡±

    The female knight rose to her feet and walked toward the youth. Saraela''s eye twitched as she finally recognized the woman''s armour, worn by the knights of the Empire. The knight whispered something in the mage''s ear, and an expression of enlightenment appeared on his face. ¡°Oh, I see,¡± she heard him muttering.

    ¡°Well then, won''t you answer ?¡± she pressed.

    ¡°Indeed. We shall be very honest with you, rather than getting falsely accused later on. We''re not merchants.¡±

    She rolled her eyes. You don''t say. He carried on. ¡°We are deserters from Great Sorceress Karia''s army. We would like to be granted asylum in Atharemine.¡±

    Deserters...

    ¡°And why did you desert ? Why should we welcome traitors and the likes of you ? Moreover, what guarantees me that you''re not spies anyway ?¡±

    The mage smiled. ¡°We had a disagreement regarding Karia''s taste for burning your fellowmen.¡±

    ¡°How convenient. I thought the people from the Empire had a deeply rooted dislike for the demons ?¡±

    ¡°Well, we don''t. That''s why you should welcome us, we''re rare specimens. You can keep us under watch if it pleases you.¡±

    What to do ? No spy would just put himself under such a spotlight. Or maybe they would, to get us to lower our guard ?

    ¡°In any case,¡± the mage grabbed Kalithazar''s head by the hair, ¡°here''s a gift, as proof of our sincerity and good faith.¡±

    Saraela kept silent and weighted her options. There weren''t many, in all honesty. Welcome them, turn them away, or kill them. Well, it wasn''t as if the city was strictly refusing to let Imperial citizens enter. There were mercenary bands from the Empire that sided with the city, and some of these sell-swords would even take part in the tournament. Greedy bastards, of course, but it was better to have them on the city''s side rather than the Empire''s. Atharemine could afford it, as it was a rich and prosperous city.

    She whispered to Vraxil. ¡°We can at least hear what they have to say. They''re deserters from Karia''s camp, so they could have interesting information.¡±

    ¡°I agree, captain. But ultimately, you know the decision is your father''s to make.¡±

    She groaned. She didn''t have the same authority as the lord of Atharemine, yes, she knew. Of course she knew, she was being reminded of it often enough. But for now it was her call, so she addressed the pair.

    ¡°He was a murderer and a dangerous psychopath,¡± the captain pointed to the bandit''s chief head. ¡°And I''m relieved to learn that he''s dead.¡± She turned toward the sentinels. ¡°Open the gates.¡±

    They complied, and accompanied by her men, Saraela walked down the stairs of the walls, and waited at the gates.

    ¡°...Azcheron and Erin, is that it ? I temporarily welcome you two to Atharemine. However, I will have to bring this matter to the lord, and he''ll decide what to make of you. Meanwhile, you will be under constant surveillance by four of my men. Is it fine with you ?¡±

    The mage nodded, but he stood still next to his bunch of bandits. ¡°What about them ?¡± he asked.

    ¡°We have no need for living bandits. We''ll put their heads on spikes as a warning.¡±

    ¡°Fair enough,¡± the youth grinned before speaking to his companion. ¡°Sure you don''t want your half ?¡±

    The knight raised her palm. ¡°I''ve had enough with the big one.¡±

    ¡°If you say so.¡± He then glanced at the bandits, and a second later, some thirty heads fell on the ground in a disgusting noise. Saraela''s mouth was agape as she contemplated the carnage.

    She leaned toward an equally shocked Vraxil, whispering to him. ¡°About their escort... Make it at least twelve men ?¡±

 45 - The northern campaign VII

    ¡°Atharemine''s thermal baths are certainly worth any traveller''s attention. Though, I realized long ago that the reputation of the baths exceeds the truth. All sorts of men come to the baths because they imagine naked, flustered ladies and steamy encounters, because they picture the skin, the sweat and the red flushes, but they end up crushed under the heavy weight of reality and disappointment. The main clientele of the baths is, unsurprisingly, the male gender. Old, hairy men and overexcited pink teenagers, indeed. Most are here for the same unsavoury reason, unfortunately. They travel to another country, only to go to the baths, expecting to trip on some girl, sending her towel flying and conveniently groping some random body part as they fall, or something like that. Little do they know that there are rigorous schedules for gender rotation, precisely to avoid such events. But they don''t bother to inquire about that. They read too many novels, probably, as I once did. Literature will be the bane of us, I tell you.

    -rant, thermal baths regular¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°Mmh, they certainly do follow us around,¡± Azcheron remarked, though Erin was perfectly aware too. Ever since the city watch''s captain, Saraela, had provided them with these armoured attendants the day before, they hadn''t found a moment to themselves until now. They even had guards posted at their door while they slept in a place that had more to do with a cell than a room.

    ¡°I''m glad they have at least the decency not to stay around in the baths,¡± she replied as they walked through the corridors of the thermal baths. Azcheron was overjoyed. It wasn''t anything new to Erin, since they had the same in the Empire, but it was something mainly reserved for the aristocracy, and so the Saint hadn''t had the pleasure to experience this convenient technology. She wasn''t even sure he had heard of it before.

    The thermal baths were much more popular in the Free Cities, apparently. It probably had something to do with the highly advanced system of aqueducts, the magical water pumps and the thermal activity of the underground, all of which made the building of these baths much easier. Atharemine''s technology wasn''t that developed compared to the Imperial Capital, but you could certainly say the two cities'' use of magic and technology went in different directions. The Free Cities boasted a people-friendly technology, as opposed to the Empire''s focus on siege weaponry and military technology. Well, the Imperial Capital had that weather shield enhancing the everyday life during the harsh seasons, but overall the north was first in the race for comfort and lifestyle.

    Maybe that''s where the propaganda regarding the demons'' tendency for debauchery, vice and leisure, comes from ?

    ¡°Well, I, for one, am glad that they even let us bath at all. Can you imagine us coming to the demon lord''s name-day with our stinking clothes and bloodied faces ?¡±

    ¡°I took you for someone who didn''t care about etiquette and manners.¡±

    Azcheron clicked his tongue. ¡°You''re supposed to be the one talking about being clean and proper, anyway. You... damn lady. How come you''re not bothered by the dirt under your fingernails and the stench of sweat ?¡±

    She shrugged. ¡°Guess I''m a bandit too ?¡±

    Still, a bath do us good. The place looks rather nice. I''m surprised, actually, I didn''t expect deserters to be granted such a privilege. The watch even emptied the whole building for us. Courtesy of captain Saraela, maybe ?

    They arrived at the baths. Steam clouded Erin''s view, and only a faint beam of light came through the small glass window, but she could make the shape of the large square pools. She took off her clothes and jumped in, the dirt and blood detaching from her body, floating away as she enjoyed the burning water.

    ¡°We should ask Anton to have a similar thing installed in his home, don''t you think ?¡± Azcheron said as he stepped in the bath too. ¡°I could use a thermal bath or two after a day of teaching idiots about raw mana.¡±

    ¡°What, so that Tania can faint from being over-flustered when she sees the both of us bathing ?¡±

    ¡°Hah ! Now that''s a-¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Erin scolded him. ¡°A bad idea, that''s what it is.¡±

    ¡°Why does that sort of thing always happen in Anton''s novels then ?¡±

    She sighed and leaned backwards, letting her half-submerged body float. ¡°I don''t know which possibility is worst : whether he purposely gave you the poorest literature he could find, or if he honestly believed his books were good.¡±

    ¡°But they are good, aren''t they ?¡± Azcheron wondered innocently. ¡°It''s the world that''s wrong, I think.¡±

    Huh ? The hell does that mean...

    ¡°Well, forget about the thermal baths in Anton''s house,¡± she dismissed his idea with a wave of her hand. ¡°He would never accept something like that anyway, he doesn''t even allow us to lit the fireplaces.¡±

    ¡°True. Then I''ll use the Palace''s baths, I guess.¡±

    She lifted her head and stared at him, not sure if he was serious or not. She wouldn''t be surprised if he was, though.

    ¡°I wonder what the Emperor''s baths look like. They''re probably twice the size of these ones.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± He came floating next to her, and they both gazed at the ceiling through the steam. ¡°You know we would have access to the lord''s baths right now if we had revealed your name. It''s not too late. I''m sure they''d want the lady Verald to be as comfortable as she wishes for.¡±

    ¡°They''d want to put me in chains, you mean. I would be the perfect hostage if they learned of my name. From their perspective, anyway. We can''t very much explain to them that Karia won''t care about hostages because we specifically tricked her into acting that way. Hah... You buried us in a thick layer of lies, I''m not sure we can keep deceiving everyone for long...¡±

    ¡°That''s why we have to gain the demon lord''s favour before they grow suspicious of us.¡±

    She turned her head slightly to see him also looking at her. ¡°You sound disappointed. Thinking about the tournament they mentioned ?¡±

    ¡°I wish you could have taken part in in.¡±

    ¡°We should have come sooner then. It''s your adventuring episode that slowed us down.¡±

    ¡°Well, I find it insulting that they didn''t accept your last-minute participation,¡± he complained. ¡°You defeated Kalithazar in single combat after all, they can''t very much afford to refuse you the honour of smashing everyone in a contest !¡±

    ¡°That''s how it is, no point in brooding. We''ve been invited to watch it, at least.¡±

    ¡°I know. We''ll have to use our cover and our knowledge about Karia to pique the lord''s interest... But winning a tournament would have been flashier.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Had I taken part, would you have cheered for me ?¡± she asked in a fake imploring tone.

    He laughed. ¡°Hah, who do you take me for ? I would have given you the loudest cheer the continent had ever heard.¡±

    * * *

    Erin leaned on the balcony''s ledge as she observed the clashing warriors from the upper floor.

    A knight wearing a black cloak slammed his iron mace against a soldier''s breastplate, making a crushing sound and probably breaking a few bones under it. The soldier was thrown on the ground, and could barely put his wooden shield up as the knight came upon him, hammering his weapon on him. The shield was shredded to pieces, and finally the man surrendered. ¡°I yield ! Stop !¡±

    The black knight put the visor of his helm up, revealing a ginger beard, then raised his arms, as the herald proclaimed his victory. ¡°The victor of this duel is lieutenant Vraxil, of the city watch !¡±

    The spectators cheered. Erin looked around, to see all sorts of people both in the courtyard around the arena, and in the balconies. Ranging from squires, smiths and peasants, to wealthy merchants, officials and high-borns.

    ¡°So, how good are the demon knights ?¡± Azcheron asked from behind. Erin turned around to see him still seated at their table, surrounded by the dozen of guards, nonchalantly sipping wine from a gilded cup. He had an atrociously arrogant posture, and with the escort around him, the fancy cup and the usual eerie smile, Erin would have thought he was the demon lord if she didn''t know any better.

    ¡°This Vraxil guy is alright, but not as good as me,¡± she said as she looked back toward the courtyard. Seeing that the next duellists were still preparing themselves and hadn''t stepped in the arena yet, she let her gaze wander around the castle. She felt somewhat uncomfortable, with all these unknown faces. At least in the capital, she knew the nobility. She hated them, of course, but it was always a boon to know the names of the people you hated, and the rumours about them.

    Erin glanced at the largest balcony, shaded by some red clothes hung above it, protecting the demon lord of the afternoon sun that gave an unusual warmth here in the north. She could still make out his face however, thin and pale, contrasting with his long raven hair. His lips formed into a confident smirk as he seemed to have noticed something of interest in the courtyard. She looked down where he was staring, and understood why.

    The herald announced the next competitors. ¡°Mercenary Rudolph, and captain Saraela, of the city watch !¡±

    The crowd cheered loudly at the mention of the captain''s name. She really is popular here, eh ? So it''s true that she''s the daughter of the well-liked demon lord. Erin sighed. This is the kind of important thing I wish I knew beforehand, especially when I''m letting Azcheron negotiate our entry in cities...

    Hmm ? Rudolph ?

    Erin turned to Azcheron, who was already approaching her, raising a brow. He had also heard.

    ¡°Now, now, don''t we know that one ?¡± he said, as he observed Saraela''s opponent. They just had time to see the slicked back hair and the badly shaved jaw before it all disappeared under a fully enclosed helm, but they were sure of it. It was Rudolph indeed, whom they had last seen when they returned from the western expedition.

    Azcheron frowned. ¡°That''s curious.¡±

    ¡°I think so too.¡± Wasn''t Rudolph supposed to be one of Ravilna''s men ? Why would he join Atharemine''s side ? Unless...

    ¡°Let''s be careful around him. We don''t know his motives yet.¡±

    She nodded. Maybe he was here on his own accord, maybe he had been sent on a ''mission'' or something similar to what Erin led Karia to believe. Maybe the countess was just being herself and had sent one of her men to cause chaos ?

    A horn was blown and the duel started. Rudolph, clad in black-painted plate, took a stance with his longsword, while Saraela, having only mail under a brigandine, a sword and a small shield, began to circle him. Strangely, her gear wasn''t so different from that of the bandits she seemed to despise so much. Well, it would probably anger her if someone pointed it out.

    They exchanged a few blows, but both kept a safe distance. Saraela was trying to keep the sun at her back, as to blind Rudolph who had already a poor visibility because of his helmet, while aiming for the gaps and the joints to disturb his balance.

    ¡°She''s smart. And fast. This is like Erin versus Kalithazar, round two !¡± Azcheron exclaimed, attracting a few stares from the guards and the spectators close enough to hear him. The bandit must have been really infamous.

    ¡°Well, it''s the basics,¡± Erin commented. ¡°If you''re not going to wear armour, you better make good use of the environment and everything you''ve got. There''s no point otherwise.¡±

    Azcheron nodded furiously with a wide smile. The hell are you doing ? And you know these things... You also use the environment when you fight with magic.

    ¡°Keep commenting, master Erin,¡± he whispered. ¡°Please, enlighten this crowd of fools with the science of swordsmanship.¡±

    She exhaled deeply. ¡°You... really like swordsmanship.¡±

    ¡°I also like it when you talk about swordsmanship.¡±

    ¡°Hm !¡± She smirked and focused back on the duel. Nothing worthy of awe had happened, they were just fencing nicely. Saraela was cautious and quick, but Rudolph too was fighting very carefully, which, added to his armour, must have made him a very annoying opponent. An annoying defender against a harassing attacker, however...

    ¡°Saraela will lose,¡± Erin said casually. Of course, a large number of glares immediately fell upon her. The captain of the city watch was the favourite of the tournament, she was fast and skilled, she couldn''t possibly lose to an outsider, a clodhopper in armour, and what''s more, from the Empire ! Oh, but she will.

    ¡°I would have bet on her.¡± Azcheron leaned on the balcony''s ledge and supported his head with his palm. ¡°If we had money to spare. Saraela has speed, Rudolph only has his armour.¡±

    ¡°You mean, he has his armour, while she only has speed...¡±

    Despite their different gears, Saraela was tiring at a faster pace than Rudolph. Because she had been circling and dodging, attacking and retreating quickly, while he just stood here, defending without too much trouble, taking a few steps back when necessary. It looked like he was being pressured, yet in truth it was Saraela who was in a dire situation.

    ¡°I thought speed was better ?¡±

    ¡°There''s no point if you just jump around like a monkey, especially when you don''t have the stamina. Having armour and strength will be enough to fend away most people. Why do you think soldiers started to wear plates and trained their body to wield heavy weapons ? It''s a tried and tested method for killing people without getting killed in return.¡±

    ¡°What about you ? You won against Kalithazar and his armour, with your skill and speed only.¡±

    Erin smirked. ¡°That''s because I''m better than most people.¡±

    And she''s not.

    Saraela slashed at Rudolph as he suddenly stepped forward. Her sword hit vainly his armoured flank, and he simply locked her in that position, blocking her weapon and her hand against his flank with his own arm. Then he just punched her in the face with his free hand. Before she could get up, he was pointing his blade at her throat.

    ¡°...I yield,¡± she said, biting her bleeding lip.

    The crowd wasn''t cheering, oh, certainly not. They probably expected their young prodigy to win in a flashy way, instead they had a long, not very entertaining fight, which their champion ended up losing. Only a slow clap could be heard. It was Azcheron, of course, always in need of more glares. Erin wasn''t sure whether it was Rudolph''s win or Azcheron''s clap that most angered the other spectators.

    ¡°And the victory goes to mercenary Rudolph,¡± the Saint spoke in a soft, mocking voice. Whispers and groans of discontentment echoed from the courtyard and the balconies. The herald seemed bewildered, but then again Erin couldn''t know if the reason was because Saraela lost or because Azcheron stole his job. Congratulations, you managed to attract more attention than the winner himself.

    Rudolph took his helmet off, revealing a smirk on his ageing face. He nodded toward Erin and Azcheron before leaving the duelling grounds. The man was probably at least in his forties, but he looked as if he had barely broken a sweat during this fight. I suppose you learn how to fight while managing your stamina, as you grow older.

    She hadn''t had the opportunity to see him fight when they explored the Desolate Lands ¨C he rode his horse and fled the golems, mostly ¨C, but he wouldn''t have been selected by Ravilna for the expedition if his age was an issue for him. He used to be a bounty-hunter, he was bound to be resourceful and skilled, at least.

    Erin glanced at the demon lord''s balcony. She expected him to wear a displeased or disappointed expression, but he kept still on his seat, elbow on the armrest, head supported by his fist. An amused smile, and eyes full of curiosity pointed toward the conspicuous ''deserters'' ¨C his daughter had probably told him about them by now.

    ¡°What did you say about gaining the lord''s favour, again ?¡± she whispered to the Saint.

    ¡°I think we did a good first impression. You managed to show off your knowledge about swordsmanship without even having to fight, and I managed to... hm...¡±

    ¡°To show off, period.¡±

    ¡°Precisely.¡±

    The demon lord leaned toward a servant, who immediately disappeared into the castle. A few moments later, the servant arrived at Erin and Azcheron''s balcony and spoke to them in a discreet but solemn voice.

    ¡°Lady Verald, Saint Azcheron.¡± Their eyes widened at the mention of their real identities. ¡°Lord Sazael would like to invite you for dinner this evening, as guests of honour.¡±

 46 - The northern campaign VIII

    ¡°The Free Cities aren''t a real nation, strictly speaking. The north is merely a land. The cities are each ruled independently by one lord, whether the city''s wealth and size compares to the Imperial capital or to a small town. There are records of the Free Cities forming a coalition under the rule of certain demon lords, long ago, when the Empire was actively hindering the north''s grow. But nowadays, the lords stay isolated, and embody inaction at its finest. Surely they would unite again, were the north to be threatened once more by the Empire ?

    -anonymous chronicler¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°These demons won''t stop surprising me, and I don''t like it.¡±

    Erin glanced at Azcheron who kept grumbling and muttering complains as he dragged his feet. They were walking behind the maid who was apparently leading them to their chambers. The tournament had just ended and there was still a couple of hours before tonight''s reception.

    How course, Rudolph had won the event. Saraela was supposed to be, in everybody''s mind, the strongest contender for the first place, and so he didn''t meet any challenge in his ascension toward the top.

    The maid stopped before a door, and motioned for Erin and Azcheron to enter. The room was large, with a four-poster bed, and high arched doors leading to a balcony ¨C balconies were probably one of the lord''s obsessions, seeing their absurd number across the entire castle.

    One room and one bed ? Erin raised a brow. People usually gave them two rooms, or at least two beds.

    As if guessing her thoughts, the maid explained herself with an emotionless voice. ¡°Lord Sazael assured me that you only needed one room and one bed. If it isn''t to your lik-¡±

    ¡°It isn''t, we shall require two bedrooms, many thanks,¡± Azcheron ushered the maid outside and closed the door immediately thereafter.

    Erin tilted her head. ¡°But we don''t need two, do we ?¡±

    ¡°No, we don''t.¡± He crossed his arms. ¡°But that demon lord acts like he knows everything. It pisses me off.¡±

    ¡°Is that your way of getting back at him for some imaginary offences ?¡±

    Azcheron snorted and approached the bed, letting himself fall on the mattress. ¡°We may have underestimated him. He knows way too much, I didn''t plan for that. It makes me uneasy.¡±

    ¡°And there''s Rudolph''s enigmatic presence here.¡±

    ¡°Hm. The city of Atharemine sure has shown herself to be quite dangerous, in the mere span of an afternoon...¡±

    Erin stayed silent and shivered, feeling the late afternoon breeze as she stepped through the arched doors, on the balcony. It overlooked the entire city. The view was gorgeous. Squares houses and temples and aqueducts, it really felt like they were in an ancient city, like the Imperial towns used to be, perhaps, centuries ago.

    ¡°This room is nice,¡± she heard Azcheron saying from inside the room. She turned back to see him still laying on the bed, looking at her. ¡°I like balconies. I wonder if we could ask Anton for a room like this one.¡±

    ¡°You''re going to rebuild his entire house at this rate. Are you planning to spend your life living with him, in the capital ?¡±

    Azcheron lifted his head and sat up. ¡°Of course not. I wouldn''t want to force you to spend too much time there, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Heh. Why are you saying that as if you care about what I want ? I know you''ll end up doing whatever you want to do, wherever that brings you.¡±

    ¡°You''re right, I''m not saying this for you. But then again, you''re not with me just for my sake either, hm ? We have an understanding of some sort.¡±

    Erin shrugged. ¡°This conversation is becoming very cryptic, I''m not sure I follow. Should we talk about the demon lord, instead ?¡±

    ¡°Ah. Perhaps we should refrain from speaking about this matter too. Our dear lord Sazael is well informed, so much that it wouldn''t surprise me if the walls around here had ears, and eyes, and even noses, perhaps.¡±

    ¡°Then what ?¡±

    ¡°I have a plan.¡± She frowned. ¡°Don''t make that face. I''ve decided what I want to do about that whole war thing. It''s a great opportunity. Leave it to me !¡±

    Yay... I wonder if I''ll regret it.

    * * *

    The evening came. The maid came to fetch Erin and Azcheron, and showed them to the reception hall. Proper clothing for the event had been provided to the pair, but of course the Saint insisted they didn''t need it, spitting on the lord''s generosity. It was fine for him, seeing as he had his fancy tunic which could pass as a traditional attire from some random foreign country, but Erin only had her travel clothes with her. The less crude thing she had was a plain, dark grey doublet, which could have been perfect for her merchant disguise, but now she was unmistakeably known as lady Erin of house Verald, knight of the Empire, and niece of the lord chancellor.

    Azcheron didn''t budge and she didn''t feel like arguing with him so she went with the doublet and planned a revenge for later.

    Erin wasn''t really expecting an intimate dinner with a small number of guests, but the feast was surprisingly grandiose. It was certainly on par with the reception they had at the Farril manor, months ago. Obviously, neither the savage outdoors banquet with Kalithazar, nor the drab meal with Karia, could possibly compare with this reception that wonderfully demonstrated lord Sazael''s exquisite taste for... exquisite taste.

    Indeed, the first and foremost impression she had was that the lord was somewhat obsessed with displaying and showing off his collection of paintings, tapestries and sculptures, his accumulation of jewels, pots, exotic plants, and whatever else he could exhibit without turning his dinner hall in an art gallery or a cabinet of curiosities.

    As dubious as the lord''s modesty could be, the place itself was fairly enjoyable. Amazingly, the decoration didn''t feel gaudy at all, and the hall was illuminated with sparse torches and small candlesticks, which gave it a comfortable atmosphere despite the hosting of about fifty guests. Of course, there were columns. Plenty of columns. And balconies, again, even if they were inside the castle. The room had an upper floor, where you could probably observe more art and... things, and from which you could overlook the tables.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    The maid led them to their seats, which were very close to the lord''s end of the table, right next to captain Saraela''s seat, in fact. On the table were cups of wine and bowls filled with grapes, peaches and plums. The main course had yet to be served, so in the meantime Erin grabbed a few fruits for herself. She caught sight of Rudolph across the room, who was busy making small talk with knights, rich people, and potential employers, perhaps.

    As she sat and bit a grape, she turned her head and realized, horrified, that Azcheron had disappeared somewhere.

    Nnngggg !? A feeling of impending doom crept up.

    She glanced around in the hope that he only had spotted a strange meal that piqued his curiosity, but he was nowhere to be found. She was about to get up to search for him when Saraela took her seat next to her. Erin took a few seconds to recognize her, since she was wearing a rather fluffy dress that didn''t exactly suit the idea anyone could have of the city watch''s captain.

    ¡°Are you enjoying the feast, merchant Erin ? No, I suppose it''s lady Verald, now...¡± Saraela said with a tinge of sarcasm.

    ¡°My, a splendid feast indeed, lady Saraela.¡± Erin didn''t fail to notice the lord''s daughter frown when she heard the word ''lady''. ¡°Apologies for my current attire, we only brought travel clothes with us.¡±

    ¡°But I believe lord Sazael offered to lend you clothes ?¡±

    ''Lord Sazael'', hm ?

    ¡°And we are thankful to your father''s generosity,¡± she replied, observing Saraela''s eye twitching as she stressed the word ''father''. ¡°But unfortunately I have... my own unpleasant circumstances.¡±

    ¡°And what circumstances would that be, dearest Erin ?¡± Azcheron''s voice came from behind. They both turned to see the Saint approaching with the demon lord at his side. You started to plot already ? Can''t schemes and mind games wait until we''ve finished eating ?

    ¡°Honourable Saint,¡± lord Sazael spoke gleefully, ¡°circumstances are what they are : circumstances. Sometimes it is best if they aren''t spoken of, especially if they prove too revealing about one''s character. It would be a shame if we were to find out that some of the guests here were, one could say, oafs stopping beautiful ladies from wearing appropriate clothes, don''t you think ?¡±

    Azcheron glanced discreetly at Erin with a meaningful look. Yes, that confirms us that Sazael has been spying on us. The maid, maybe. Some magic, perhaps. It doesn''t explain how he learned of our identities, however, so don''t act like an idiot.

    ¡°Oh, I very much think so. Let us keep clothing circumstances in the utmost secrecy. It seems there are already far too many people aware of said circumstances, anyway.¡±

    Erin silently cursed as she realized Sazael had probably the same taste as Azcheron for cryptic teasing and disguised mockery, while Saraela wore an expression of utter confusion, since the conversation couldn''t possibly make sense to anyone not knowing of the Saint''s abominable character.

    The demon lord faced Erin. ¡°Are you perhaps hungry, my lady ? The main course shall be served shortly.¡±

    Azcheron and Sazael sat at their rightful places, and so did the other guests when they spotted the servants coming with plates and bowls filled with beef and curious vegetables Erin had never seen in the Empire. Everyone began to eat and chatter in a most pleasant atmosphere.

    ¡°So,¡± Azcheron addressed the lord, ¡°would you mind telling us in detail about your, let us say, keen interest in some of your guests'' lives ?¡±

    ¡°I merely hear rumours from... friends in the capital. My friends are very interested in the capital''s affairs, and I am very interest in my friends'' interest.¡±

    ¡°You seem to be both an interested and an interesting man, lord Sazael,¡± Erin said before sipping her wine. ¡°And what, if we may inquire, would be of such interest to you and your friends in the capital ?¡±

    ¡°Aah,¡± he smiled widely. ¡°I find it convenient to be aware of the many happenings through the world. For instance, my interest allowed me to greet the two of you with the honour you truly deserve. I would have regretted it all my life, had I not known I was beholding veterans from the Desolate Lands, one who was born in one of the oldest Imperial families and who faced the infamous Oscar in a sword fight, the other who sparred against the Dragon Slayer and who made a death threat to the Emperor during his own audience.¡±

    ¡°Wha-¡± Saraela gasped.

    ¡°You''re well informed,¡± Azcheron said after swallowing a bite of the juicy beef.

    Lord Sazael waved the praise away with his hand. ¡°Not as well as I wish I was. The purpose of your visit here is still unknown to me, I''m afraid. Still, I find it rather amusing that you two keep using your real names even when trying to go unnoticed. You realize that you are now famous in... certain circles ?¡±

    We actually spread our names deliberately, but it wouldn''t do to tell him that.

    ¡°And what sort of circles are we talking about ?¡± Erin wondered, making her cup swing between two fingers.

    ¡°The kind that deals in warfare and plots,¡± the demon answered as he grabbed a jug and poured her more wine. ¡°Probably all the leaders of the continent, if I had to guess. They take interest in scandals, uproars and potential threats, and so do I.¡±

    She gave him a pleased smile, appreciating the generous gesture. ¡°News surely travel fast.¡±

    ¡°Yet they can be so slow, sometimes. The birds carrying them, however, are indeed fast.¡±

    Not fast enough to reach Karia''s castle before us, apparently.

    Sazael couldn''t possibly have guessed what she was thinking, but he then unknowingly answered her thoughts. ¡°My friends seemed to have taken some time before learning of your destination. It was only three days ago that I received a message informing me that two particular fellows had found themselves in chancellor Varymiel''s sights, and had supposedly fled north. You can imagine my surprise when my daughter came to me a couple of days later, telling me that deserters going by the names of Azcheron and Erin had knocked to our doors... To find refuge, by any chance ?¡±

    ¡°We are not fleeing, lord Sazael.¡± Azcheron''s tone was surprisingly ¨C or perhaps, unsurprisingly ¨C very cold and intimidating.

    ¡°No ? I thought for a moment that I might have found the reason of your presence here. Why, then, have you come to our city of Atharemine, if not to receive protection against the Empire ?¡±

    He''s not even considering the possibility that we may have come here to take his head and ask the Emperor for forgiveness ? Or he''s avoiding mentioning that because he doesn''t want us to know he''s suspicious of us ? Or he has his reasons... I''m not even sure myself what Azcheron wants to do here. I hope he won''t behead everyone in the room without warning...

    ¡°Protection, you say...¡± Azcheron gazed at the people in the reception hall, and from her seat Erin caught a glimpse of a smile, quickly hidden away once he turned back toward the demon.

    ¡°Lord Sazael,¡± he continued, ¡°do you know what I see when I look around ?¡±

    ¡°Maybe our demonic race, to which your eyes are not accustomed ? Our people can be hard to bear for the Imperial eye, or so I''ve heard.¡± the lord joked. ¡°But forgive me, I do not know what you see. What then ?¡±

    ¡°Dead people.¡±

    The demon lord squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, but kept silent. His daughter, less so.

    ¡°Are you insulting us, Saint Azcheron ? No... threatening us ?¡± She was glaring at him, but the fluffy dress greatly hindered her intimidating behaviour, as did her hand, vainly fumbling at her waist for the guard of her sword.

    The hall became silent for a moment, everyone was looking in their direction. With a single gesture of the hand, Sazael signalled for the curious guests to go back to their own chatting.

    ¡°I merely say the truth. Disembowelled soldiers, raped women, mutilated children. Charred bodies. Such is the fate that will befall your city, once Karia''s army comes. You cannot protect anyone from the Empire. The Empire hates your people, and you don''t have the means to defend yourselves.¡±

    Sazael leaned on the table and supported his jaw with his hands crossed. ¡°Why do you think so, honourable Saint ?¡±

    ¡°We passed through the Great Sorceress'' camp on the way here. You have maybe a few thousands men to defend your town. They have at least thirty thousands. And with these numbers maybe you could have withstood a siege, if it wasn''t for Karia.¡±

    ¡°Half of her army is comprised of mere fanatics who never even held a sword before,¡± Saraela interjected.

    ¡°But that''s not the case anymore. Haven''t you heard ? Karia had been taking northern cities at a rather fast pace. Her men all had a taste of the war, and they''re asking for more. Soon Pelirise will be targeted, and then it will be your turn. You should have allied with the other cities before they got sieged, then maybe you could have done something. That was poor planning. If I were you, I''d hang, no, behead whoever advised to wait while the Free Cities were falling one by one.¡±

    Eh... Erin raised a brow. Are you a general, now, Azcheron ? Well, Anton was your teacher and a general, and we''ve all heard of his achievements when he was in the army, so I guess it''s not that surprising to want to act like one... In any case, Erin kept silent for now, as Azcheron asked to let him to his thing.

    ¡°What difference would Karia''s presence make, really ?¡± the city watch''s captain shrugged. ¡°She is but a single witch. She''ll cast a few spells and raise their already absurd moral, at most.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps your father can enlighten you ? Lord Sazael, what do your friends in the capital say about the Great Sorceress ? Has she usurped her title of hero ? What about the tales of her subjugation of a demon army, alone and at the age of fifteen ? Your daughter, Erin and I were barely children and infants at the time, but surely you have lived long enough to remember that ? Even though it happened on the other side of the Empire.¡±

    Lord Sazael simply closed his eyes and nodded. Erin had heard the stories too. Karia was already a battle mage, serving in an army dispatched against a horde of uprising demons in the southern border. But, without waiting for her general''s orders, she charged alone and engulfed the entirety of her enemies in a sea of flames, leaving only a field of blackness and cinders behind her.

    The lord sighed. ¡°What is your point, Azcheron ? It almost sounds like you''re about to say something important.¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± The Saint took his time to chew a large piece of meat. ¡°Well, Karia is, without a doubt, among the top three Imperial magicians.¡±

    ¡°And who could possibly be the other two, I really wonder...¡±

    ¡°Roharl the Dragon Slayer, obviously,¡± Azcheron answered innocently, ignoring the sarcasm. ¡°And then of course, me, the Rahal Saint¡±

    My lords, my ladies, I have the extreme pleasure to present you my partner, the most humble person in the world. Azcheron, master of modesty.

    Sazael and Saraela stared wordlessly at Azcheron, waiting for him to finally say it.

    ¡°You may very well have the best network of informants in the entire continent, lord Sazael. But Karia is coming at you with sheer power, absurd power ¨C the kind that will crush armies, walls and tactics alike ¨C and your spies couldn''t protect you against her, even if you were to reward them handsomely.¡± He poured himself some wine and sipped it nonchalantly. ¡°But I could.¡±

    Here it is, my good lords, my good ladies. Azcheron, master of elegance, protector of the weak, will offer to save your city, but only after being rude to you in every possible way, if he feels you deserved it.

    After a brief silence, Sazael replied. ¡°...For a handsome reward, then ?¡±

    ¡°For the most handsome of rewards,¡± Azcheron said with his trade-mark grin.

 47 - The northern campaign IX

    ¡°The Academy council is composed of the headmaster of the school, and five chairmen elected by the faculty staff. It is a place where the best minds of the Empire gather. Famous magicians, important researchers, wise scholars, basically every worthy person who has dabbled in magic or science during his life, aspires to attend the council as chairman. After all, it is the peak of the scientific and magic community, all over the continent, from the southern kingdoms to the Free Cities. Even the filthy demons know about the council. It takes place in the highest room, in the highest tower. Here, we make major decisions, and it''s where the course of the academic world is influenced. Of course, solemness, augustness and rigorousness are qualities required of the chairmen. Only the most brilliant and respectful minds can hope to get elected.

    -boast, anonymous chairman¡±

    * * *

    Anton

    Anton put his quill down on his desk and stood up from his chair to stretch his arms and legs. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, ink spilled over the paperwork, doing the paperwork again. Paperworkpaperworkpaperwork ...And freedom, finally.

    That had been his day. His mind was now filled with thoughts of accounting, name registers, orders and deliveries, and, more generally, things that could extinguish any will to live, from anyone, through massive insipidity alone. Such was one of the disadvantages of being a chairman in the Academy''s council.

    The job already involved a chronic dealing with tedious matters, and Anton''s job was made considerably tougher because of headmaster Talir, who hated Anton. Therefore, his job involved dealing with an inhuman amount of these things. Daily.

    It was a miracle he still had the time to teach, these days. Hector Talir had been ordering new tools and materials, and the construction of a new building was being planned. Something to do with the golem technology and magic engineering. Since Anton was an authority on magical weaponry and engineering, he had been granted the ''honour'' of taking care of the thing.

    I bet they''re going to make me teach about golems next. Guess I''ll take Nathaniel as an assistant since I barely know anything about them...

    Anton was about to go home, when he remembered that a student had delivered him a note from that moustached linguist, earlier in the day. The note was asking him to come at once, apparently. Of course, Anton had ignored the request because he when he received it, he had a full day of work before him and no time to spare. Even though it must have been rather important, since it was the first time him and Nathaniel asked Anton to come.

    They had been working together for three months in the eastern tower on their free time, searching for clues about the Rahal clan, and whenever Anton came to see if there was any interesting development, he only got a mean shrug as an answer.

    Well, to be fair, he had been forcing the two to help him in his selfish quest for the safeguard of the Empire. They surely didn''t like it, but even these two imbeciles understood how bad it''d be to have Azcheron doing something desperate and catastrophic just to impress dragons.

    Well, they believe it''d be bad because I told them so, heh. I don''t actually think he would do something too dangerous. I hope ? He would want to keep some people ALIVE so that they would be able to tell his tale, something like that... the brat is getting easier to figure out now that he has a clear goal.

    Anton arrived at the building and knocked on the door. Perhaps half a minute passed, without the door being opened. Anton groaned, hoping to be able to go home quickly. He thought that the two idiots might have fallen asleep, and so that would give him a sufficient reason to leave the Academy''s grounds immediately.

    But he had to admit he was curious. Three months of restless research, and they had finally found something. Supposedly.

    It can''t be that they''re about to confess their incompetence, telling me that they can''t search any longer, that they''ll end up dying of boredom at this rate. Right ?

    If it turned out to be the case, he''d whip them or something.

    Hah. I would prefer having these two dying, of boredom or whatever else, rather than letting the entire country suffer an uncertain fate at the unpredictable hands of Azcheron...

    Therefore he knocked once again. Still nothing, but then he could swear he heard some clatter inside the room. Perhaps the damn fools were drinking ? Or they were indeed asleep, and one of them had just suffered a sudden and unconformable wake by falling from his chair or something. The thought made Anton chuckle.

    He tried to push the door, hoping to find an old man face down, with an expression of both confusion and frustration. That''d be a sight. Since the door wasn''t locked, Anton took advantage of it and stealthily entered, gleefully rubbing his hands together as if a vicious plot was being formed in his mind.

    Well, stealthily... as much as one can be after having knocked on the door, but since the victims are either asleep or deaf...

    The inside of the room was rather dark and silent, aside from the sound of the fountain in the patio. The lights were out, only the faint moonlight coming through the windows allowed Anton to make out shapes of furnitures. But that was enough, at least he didn''t need to cast a light spell and ruin the surprise. There was nobody in the entrance hall, so Anton crept across the room until he reached the study.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Here he was, the sleeping fool. Slumped in his armchair, drooling or something like that. Books scattered on his desk and around him. Did he fall asleep while working ? Well, I can''t ignore his dedication. I''m actually surprised. Nathaniel didn''t seem to be on the first floor, probably resting upstairs.

    Anton gathered the books laying on the floor. All sorts of tomes written in Dragon tongue, of course. A book about the history of magic and the magician clans, another one about the creation of the Empire. One book wore the name of ''Great wars of the past''. Another one titled ''Life and reign of the Second Emperor''.

    Hm. Wouldn''t it be the worst twist ever if Azcheron turned out to be a descendant of the Second Emperor ? I can already imagine him claiming the throne. The Empire would be doomed, even more than it already is...

    Anton snorted as he put the last books back on the desk. Now standing in front of the sleeping linguist, he hesitated. There wasn''t really any need to wake him up, whatever they believed they had found, it could probably wait. But Anton was intrigued, and he couldn''t read the linguist''s notes since they were also written in Dragon tongue.

    Well, they were expecting me to come by today, right !

    He lightly shook the moustached man''s shoulder, but the linguist didn''t seem to wake. So Anton slapped a book on his head. Enough time had been lost already, Anton wanted to go home after that, ''twas time to wake up ! The linguist fell from his chair and, exactly as Anton had pictured before sneaking in, landed with his face against the ground.

    ¡°Hah ! Sorry for the delay, and the rude awakening,¡± Anton said, snickering.

    But the linguist kept still. Feeling that something was amiss, Anton crouched and finally realized. The moustached professor hadn''t been drooling. It wasn''t saliva dripping form his mouth, but blood and vomit. And most importantly, he hadn''t just dozed off. He was covered in bruises and cuts and his abdomen was twisted in an abominable way, as if someone had tried to rip his torso away from the waist. He had entered a sleep that clearly couldn''t be exited.

    Anton rose to his feet and immediately enhanced his sight and hearing with magic. The enemy could still be here. Who, how many, how dangerous, he didn''t know, but he was ready for anything. At this moment, he wasn''t Anton, professor at the Academy ¨C he was once again general Vardt, Imperial magician, ready to kill.

    He conducted a search through the tower with sound magic, but he couldn''t hear anything in the upper floors, not even a heart beat. There was no trace of magic being used in the building, aside from his own, so it was unlikely that someone was hiding with a spell.

    He eventually exhaled deeply, and looked at the moustached cadaver. He was a prominent linguist, and an amazing mind. The Academy had lost an important researcher. They had already lost Yorl months ago, and now him. Him... Anton frowned. He didn''t even know his name !

    How could this be ? He pinched the bridge of his nose. I don''t think I''ve ever met anyone who knew this man''s name. Why, though ? He''s famous. This makes no sense.

    Anton cast yet again a hearing spell and widened his search around the tower. There was something, outside. He focused beyond the fountain, beyond the sound of water running. Panting, breathing. Someone.

    He silenced his footsteps and rushed outside, on the patio. A faint trail of blood went from the tower to the fountain. And here they were. A bloodied and dizzy Nathaniel leaning against the fountain, and two shadowy figures, looking down on him.

    With a thought, Anton fried the brain of one of the shadows with a powerful electric arc. He couldn''t take any risk, Nathaniel was obviously being threatened and he didn''t know what the assassins were capable of, so it was best to kill at least one of them.

    The remaining shadow dodged a paralysing bolt at the last second. Unfortunately for Nathaniel who was laying behind, the bolt flew toward him and knocked him out. Anton threw another spell to force the shadow to move away. He then approached Nathaniel and the fried assassin, giving them a quick glance.

    Nathaniel will live. This guy''s undoubtedly dead though.

    The shadow took out a rapier from under its cloak, and with its free hand, casted a large magic missile toward Anton. He dispelled it effortlessly with a mana shield.

    Hm...? This isn''t an assassination spell.

    Anton looked yet again at the dead assassin. Removed the hood with his foot, and frowned. A woman. He observed the other shadow. Small and thin frame, possibly a feminine figure.

    ¡°You lot aren''t Varymiel''s people,¡± Anton bluffed, smirking. ¡°You are... Magic-maids, am I wrong ?¡±

    The shadow flinched ever so slightly but kept staring at the old mage wordlessly. That was all the answers Anton needed. That explained the gruesome death of the moustached professor. Magic-maids specialized in battle spells and brute strength, not stealth and quick assassination. Their goal was to protect the Imperial family, there was no need for discretion and clean killing.

    So, why are Palace maids doing this sort of nasty business ? I should interrogate her, I guess...

    ¡°Girl, who sent you here ? Speak and I''ll let you go,¡± he said, trying to avoid a bloody mess. He''d rather do his thing without having to resort to fighting, subjugating and torturing.

    But the Magic-maid remained silent. In place of an answer, she made her rapier glow, and Anton could feel a magic enchant engulfing her body. She took a stance, seemingly waiting for an opening.

    He sighed. ¡°Don''t underestimate me, brat.¡± With a flick of his wrist, the water from the fountain flew out and turned to ice. A few seconds later, about fifty ice spears were spinning around him, as if he was standing inside a blizzard or a tornado.

    ¡°Do you think they call me the Lord of the Storm just for show ?¡±

    Well, nowadays everyone seems to have forgotten my title. I really ought to remind people of who I used to be, damnit.

    The Magic-maid glanced at Nathaniel, then at Anton. She moved, almost imperceptibly, but the old mage noticed it with his enhanced sight. Spears flew toward the maid, tossing away the sword she had thrown in Nathaniel''s direction.

    However the ice projectiles only pierced the ground of the patio. By the time Anton realized that, the assassin was escaping, jumping on the roofs of the Academy''s buildings. He threw a few more spears in her direction, but wasn''t surprised when it missed.

    I''m getting old... Should''ve hit from this distance, when I was in my prime. Bah !

    Once he made sure there weren''t more enemies lurking around, he neared Nathaniel. He was unconscious and his arm, where the paralysing bolt had hit, was burnt, but he wasn''t really in need of healing. A few bruises from the maids, and a burn from Anton.

    Nathaniel is lucky, at least he pulled through, whereas the moustached linguist... Well, he''s more on the ''pulled apart'' side than the ''pulled through''...

    It wouldn''t do any good to think about him right now. The night would suddenly become a long one. Anton had to send a letter to Azcheron, to warn him. Something was happening in the shadows, he was sure of it. Strange whispers from the Palace about an important person''s disappearance, rumours of the Emperor''s illness, news of the stupid northern war... And now, assassins.

    What''s more, not the regular Imperial assassins.

    Why would they want to silence two scholars reading old books ? What kind of secret were they trying to keep buried ? How did they learn about the search anyway ? He didn''t even know if it had anything to do with the search about the Rahal clan. He''d have to wait until Nathaniel woke up if he wanted answers, and that was supposing that the western specialist knew something.

    Thoughts and guesses were rushing in Anton''s mind. Before even waiting for Nathaniel''s explanation, before even doing anything about the moustached corpse and the dead assassin, Anton searched the desk for a quill and some paper, and started to write. He prayed that the letter would reach Atharemine, were he assumed Azcheron would be, as the Saint led him to believe.

    More paperwork, in a way.

 48 - The northern campaign X

    ¡°Pelirise, the city of sun and skin. Or so they say. If Atharemine is famous for its thermal baths, Pelirise is renowned for the terraces, the beaches and the lightly clothed women. Hah ! Are there people who actually believe that ? Pelirise is located in the damn north, like every other Free City. What could have made people think that it was all sunny and hot there, I wonder. Oh, there are terraces alright, but the sun rarely shines upon them. Most of the time, terraces are only good for getting soaked by the rain or covered in snow. I tell you, you''d have better chances finding bare skinned women in Atharemine''s thermal baths. Which means you won''t, either way.

    -disappointed tourist¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°I hate you.¡±

    Erin didn''t answer. Azcheron was sure that if he turned his head and took Erin''s helmet off, he''d be met with a gleeful smirk of hers.

    ¡°I shall behead you one day,¡± he insisted.

    Perhaps she snickered, perhaps she didn''t, he couldn''t hear because of the sound of the galloping horses.

    ¡°But if the lady beheads her beloved knight, who is going to protect her ?¡± she asked mockingly after a short silence.

    The lady ¨C that would be Azcheron, dressed as a noble daughter, a girlish hairdo under his hood ¨C was riding with the beloved knight ¨C that would be Erin, fully armoured to hide her gender ¨C, leaning against the manly cuirass, embraced by the strong arms of the knight.

    Officially, a clever disguise to hide Azcheron and Erin''s movements from potential Imperial spies, now that Karia was probably aware of their identity. In truth, nothing but a shameful position for someone as prideful as the Saint, and the result of a petty revenge from a spiteful woman. A nasty business about clothing.

    We should have gone with the merchant disguise. It works fine as it is, no need for this lady nonsense. But everyone insisted that we should go with Erin''s stupid idea. As if they all were plotting against me.

    Azcheron and Erin were riding toward Pelirise, accompanied by Rudolph, Vraxil, Saraela and men of the city watch. The Saint had insisted that it would be better to defeat Karia before Atharemine got sieged, away from the city of possible, because a magical battle between them could get messy and rather dangerous for the city and its population. At the same time, Sazael''s spies reported that the Great Sorceress and her army had departed from the border to attack Pelirise, exactly as as she told Azcheron and Erin.

    Karia would take a bit less than a week to reach the sun goddess'' city, whereas Azcheron''s party would do the trip in a couple of days. They decided to have their battle with the Imperial army at Pelirise ¨C a much more suitable location for defending against Karia, because it had strong fortifications and was surrounded by water ¨C, merging Atharemine''s city watch with Pelirise''s army. The risk to see Atharemine attacked while the city watch sent its soldiers away was very low, because Karia''s army could get pincered if Pelirise''s forces ¨C which were much more numerous than Atharemine''s¨C attacked it from behind while they were busy with the walls.

    Sure, Karia was a terrifying mage that could survive being surrounded by two armies, but she wouldn''t risk losing too many of her men for nothing. She''d prefer to crush the cities one by one because she had precisely the power to do so. That was what Azcheron believed anyway.

    And she won''t find out in time that I, the Rahal Saint, have turned against her ! I am a strategical genius. I was born with talent, he smiled to himself proudly.

    ¡°I can hear you praising yourself in your mind,¡± Erin suddenly said.

    Azcheron was shocked. ¡°Huh ?¡±

    ¡°I can see your abominable smile in my gauntlets'' reflection.¡±

    ¡°You really have to break my happiness, eh ? Having me wearing this pretty girlish cloak isn''t enough to quench your desire to humiliate me.¡±

    ¡°Do you want your plan to work or what ? This disguise is the best way to trick Karia''s spies.¡±

    Azcheron snorted and sunk back in his own thoughts, away from Erin''s revengeful harassment. In truth, he wasn''t trying to protect Atharemine, by fighting Karia elsewhere, for noble reasons. Pelirise could very well suffer greatly from their magic clashing and he couldn''t care less. No, it had more to do with his handsome reward.

    The more people left alive after the war, the better it''ll be for me ! If possible, I shall also try to save as many citizens of Pelirise as I can.

    That was the main motive. He didn''t even know if his reasoning for having the fight at Pelirise made sense strategically speaking, but apparently it did, since they were currently moving an army according to his plan.

    Maybe I really am a genius at warfare... Heh, as if.

    These days, strategies and tactics were outdated and unfashionable anyway. The cool thing to do now was to send very powerful mages, large armies and big catapults, in order to crush everything with the power of... power. So much power that there wasn''t any need to think. That was more or less Karia''s strategy : an absence of strategy and an abundance of firepower, manpower, and plain power.

    The worst thing was that it really worked well. And Azcheron would do the same thing against her. The strongest of the two would win, the other would perish. Of course, he had no doubt that he''d be the one to stand at the end.

    ¡°What was the ''handsome reward'' you discussed of with lord Sazael ?¡± Erin wondered.

    Azcheron scoffed. ¡°You''re rather talkative for someone so spiteful and vindictive !¡±

    ¡°I think you are the one with the grudge, now.¡±

    ¡°Pfah. Do you really want to know about my bargain with Sazael ? I think... you''ll find it very noble and reasonable.¡±

    She grumbled. ¡°...Does that mean I''ll want to hit you once I''ve heard it ?¡±

    ¡°Maybe.¡±

    She kept silent, probably thinking she''d spoil her mood and her revenge by hearing something grotesque. In truth however, Sazael had truly struck a good deal. Contrary to his expectations, Azcheron wasn''t asking for riches, properties or women.

    Money, I can win at tournaments or extort from someone wealthy. Castles and lands, I can conquer or steal. And women... Well, I have Erin ? Does it count ?

    What he asked for was something he could not gain directly by himself. And his demands were certainly not noble, but they were at least reasonable, considering he''d be saving the north, not just Atharemine.

    The demon lord had thrown a condition in the deal, which Azcheron accepted easily. That was to protect his daughter Saraela at all costs. It turned out that the captain of the city watch, despite her initial fear, was very eager to clash swords with the Imperial soldiers, and upon learning that Atharemine wouldn''t see any fighting, she decided to go personally to Pelirise. Not that she would make a real difference among all her men ¨C she knew that, of course, but she insisted. So Sazael made this small request.

    Whatever Saraela''s motives were, whether it was a moral thing, an emotional thing, it didn''t matter to Azcheron. As long as she didn''t do anything stupid, he or Erin would have no trouble keeping her alive. Probably. Not that anyone here had ever been in a war, aside from a few people like Rudolph. But Azcheron was confident in his ability to kill, and in Erin''s. After all, protection merely amounted to killing enemies before they killed the target, right ?Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

    For now, they were travelling in separate small groups through the forest. Once they arrived at Pelirise, they''d have to meet with the local ruler and organize things a bit. And maybe offer to actively protect the town in exchange for... more handsome rewards.

    * * *

    The next day, Pelirise came within sight. Azcheron understood immediately why his proposal was accepted without much opposition : the city of the sun deity was more of a fortress than a town.

    It was built in the middle of a large river. Surrounded by water, the only entrance was via a long, heavily defended bridge. The ramparts made of ochre and orange bricks were tall and sturdy, and towers, machicolations, murder holes, arrow slits were waiting anyone who''d dare approach on a boat. Azcheron had no idea how it would fare against Karia''s magic, but clearly her soldiers would be met with a colossal challenge.

    A tall, square castle was shooting upward from the city''s centre, providing a second stronghold in case the city walls were breached. Some sort of pillars stood on the top of the keep, in place of the roof. Pelirise was smaller than Atharemine, and felt very reminiscent of the Imperial western fortress overall, even though their respective purpose had nothing in common.

    ¡°It''s my first time seeing a city built on water,¡± Azcheron said.

    ¡°I''ve seen some, but this one surely looks impregnable,¡± Erin observed. ¡°I can see why Pelirise would stay idle. They must feel rather safe in these walls.¡±

    Saraela''s horse slowed down and came next to Erin''s. ¡°The river freezes in winter, allowing raids of bandits to attack the walls, and when it floods, the bridge and some parts of the city can get submerged.¡±

    ¡°Hm. Then they must feel unsafe ?¡± Erin corrected herself.

    Saraela shrugged. ¡°Actually, the bandits never manage to breach or climb the walls, and the people here are usually prepared for the floods. They keep a lot of provisions at all times in case they lose the bridge or get sieged. As far as outside threats are concerned, it is a safe city overall. Safer than Atharemine, I reckon.¡±

    Azcheron whistled. ¡°I''m impressed. For the proud captain of Atharemine''s city watch to admit such a thing, it truly must be a marvellous city.¡±

    She frowned, but soon her exasperated expression became one of uneasiness. ¡°A marvellous city, you say... It certainly was...¡±

    ¡°It was, huh.¡± Erin stressed, as if meaning for Saraela to continue.

    ¡°Well, Pelirise is currently ruled by queen Jacille, and-¡±

    ¡°Queen ?¡± Azcheron interrupted. They''d have to meet her if they were going to plan the defence against Karia. He needed to learn about his allies, just in case.

    ¡°...Yes. Jacille has crowned herself queen ever since she became the ruler. She... is a complicated person. She didn''t inherit her predecessor''s talent for ruling, to say the least.¡±

    ¡°Great,¡± Erin grumbled. ¡°We love complicated people, don''t we...¡±

    Azcheron had the annoying feeling that her remark was targeted at him, but he displayed no reaction. He wouldn''t do her the pleasure to show his self-consciousness.

    They passed the bridged and entered the city, under the stares of a bunch of sentinels and battle mages. They didn''t arrive unannounced, of course ¨C the alliance proposal had already been accepted by Jacille ¨C but the guards were wary nonetheless. Seems like they''re ready for Karia''s army, eh ?

    Inside, however, the population didn''t seem to be expecting a war anytime soon. People were still attending to their business and their everyday lives. Perhaps they were confident in their city''s defences. Perhaps they weren''t even informed that an army was marching toward Pelirise. Perhaps they were simply easy-going and nonchalant. It was the city of sun and summer, after all.

    Saraela garrisoned her troops in the city, leaving Vraxil in charge, and then led Azcheron, Erin and Rudolph to the castle. To most of the group, this meeting was about making battle plans and strategies. The Saint went there with the intent of discussing a proper reward, though. He couldn''t care less about strategy at the moment, he felt he was beyond such earthly matters.

    They climbed the many steps leading to the castle gates. Inside, they were met with more stairs, and... columns. Noticing a trend here... Apparently they weren''t going to meet with the queen in the audience hall, or so Saraela explained.

    ¡°The summer altar ?¡± Erin inquired, repeating Saraela''s words.

    ¡°It''s located at the top of the castle, maybe you saw it when we arrived.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Azcheron exclaimed, ¡°I remember.¡±

    ¡°It''s where queen Jacille makes... sacrifices to the goddess. To honour Pelirise and ask for sunlight and summer through the year.¡±

    Everyone kept silent. Sacrifices, hmm ? Maybe the Imperial propaganda isn''t all lies and untruths. Eventually, they reached the highest floor, and were asked to wait in front of some massive, dark red painted doors.

    ¡°Queen Jacille will receive you shortly,¡± a servant announced. ¡°She is overseeing a ceremony and wishes not to be disturbed.¡±

    As they waited, the silence was broken by noises and screams coming from the other side of the door. Those are clearly the sounds of someone being dismembered, Azcheron thought. There was no doubt, he remembered how it sounded when Mirna was ripping off the limbs of the mercenaries on the island. And then there was an incongruous, childish laugh.

    Curious, Azcheron turned to Saraela. But she was staring at the ground, as if she already knew what to expect and refused to speak of it. Erin was frowning, and even Rudolph looked disturbed by the laugh.

    While they were pondering about this ceremony, the doors opened, revealing one last flight of stairs leading upward, to an luminous opening. Once they climbed, they were standing in the summer altar. A flat, slabbed roof with several tall columns on the edges. Nothing else separated the altar from the gaping void ¨C a deadly fall toward the city''s grounds. The sun coming through the pillars was somewhat blinding, but nobody could fail to see the bodies nailed against the stone columns.

    Human bodies.

    At the centre of the altar, a procession of people dressed like priests, with golden and red robes. Once they noticed Azcheron''s group, they vacated the altar after bowing to the two remaining figures. An old lady and a young girl turning her back to everyone.

    Saraela neared the girl and bowed. ¡°Queen Jacille.¡±

    The girl was apparently busy with something, and didn''t answer. The old lady spoke in her stead.

    ¡°Captain Saraela, it is good to see you again. The queen gives you her sincere apologies for the delay, but the ceremony couldn''t be interrupted,¡± the lady said in a slightly uneasy voice.

    ¡°I understand, counsellor Yva,¡± she replied in an equally timid tone, glancing at the girl. She turned her head and motioned for the group to approach, before introducing them.

    Needless to say, these introductions were merely etiquette. Counsellor Yva was probably already aware of their identities, since she was obviously the one in charge here. They all looked at the girl, waiting for her to finish whatever she was doing, and Azcheron realized that she had been groping a corpse all this time.

    ¡°My queen,¡± Yva said, ¡°you will stain your clothes at this rate, and you have guests.¡±

    ¡°Clothes... Clothing ! Aunt Yva, what is the most fitting clothing ?¡± the queen asked, finally showing her face as she turned toward the counsellor. The girl was barely nine or ten year-old, covered in blood and displaying a smile that led to believe she was highly lacking in sanity.

    ¡°I''m afraid I do not know.¡±

    ¡°Human clothes, of course !¡± the girl exclaimed as she carved out the ribcage of the corpse and tried to wear it like a coat. ¡°Oh ?¡±

    She seemed to have finally taken notice of Azcheron and the others. She glanced at Saraela, gave her a nod and a smile, then stared blankly at the Saint, Erin and Rudolph.

    ¡°...Humans. Humans ? Aunt Yva, there are Imperial spies in my castle ! AUNT YVA ! YOU TOLD ME WE SACRIFICED THEM ALL ! YOU LIED !¡±

    And she started to cry. Counsellor Yva rolled her eyes, sighed, and crouched to pat queen Jacille''s back. ¡°Here, here.¡± Yva grimaced as she realized she was patting the ribcage-coat, instead of the girl. ¡°They aren''t Imperial spies, I promise you, my queen. You executed all the spies, rest assured. Look, they''re all here, on the columns. The villains, all dead ! These humans, here, are nice humans, they shall help you defend your people. They mean no harm to demons, see ?¡±

    ¡°You promise ?¡± the queen managed to ask between two sobs.

    ¡°I swear it before the goddess Pelirise and the other deities. Now, wipe your tears, my queen, and greet your guests.¡± Queen Jacille nodded and made a curtsey in front of Azcheron''s group. Seeing the uneasy looks she received, she proceeded to awkwardly shake the hand of each human, one by one.

    Is this supposed to be an Imperial custom ? Trying to befriend us, maybe ?

    Azcheron could hear Erin gritting her teeth. Her expression betrayed her cringing and frustration. As for him, he didn''t really know what to make of the queen. She obviously had a large quantity of screws loose, but setting her dubious mental prowess aside, her genuineness was somewhat touching. Perhaps she had a difficult childhood. Perhaps she was ill ?

    The human coat was still creepy, though.

    ¡°Now,¡± Yva said as she walked toward the red gates, ¡°I would like to hold a war council while we still have time before the Great Sorceress attacks.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Saraela replied, waving for her companions to follow inside.

    Queen Jacille ran alongside the two demons. ¡°We should use the walls to protect the city and kill all the enemies !¡± she said, brimming with confidence.

    ¡°...Yes, my queen. That was my opinion as well,¡± Yva answered flatly. The queen seemed overjoyed to hear her counsellor acquiesce.

    As Azcheron and Rudolph walked behind Saraela, the queen and her advisor, the Saint noticed that Erin was dragging her feet, looking dejected. He waited for her to catch up, and she finally bothered to speak.

    ¡°This is not going to work, I tell you.¡±

    Azcheron grinned. ¡°It''ll work. We''ll make it work.¡±

    Erin exhaled deeply and followed Azcheron into the castle, leaving behind the sunny altar and the nailed bodies.

 49 - The northern campaign XI

    ¡°How to conquer a city, you ask ? It''s simple, there are three steps.

    First, siege a city !

    Then, breach the walls, destroy the doors, kill the guards !

    Finally, take the city !

    See ? Simple. What, you can''t do it ? You damn fools !

    -Roharl giving a lesson on siege warfare to first-year students¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    ¡°They''re all idiots,¡± Azcheron hissed, kicking a random, blameless stone that was laying here.

    Erin snorted. ¡°I told you.¡±

    The fourth war council had just ended. They had been holding one meeting per day, each lasting almost all day. Unsurprisingly, even Pelirise''s generals had no real experience of being besieged. In fact, the number of people who truly knew how to deal with a siege here could be counted on the fingers of one hand. The Free Cities weren''t exactly allied or united, but that didn''t necessarily mean they were enemies. They hadn''t been at war with each other for two generations at least. There would have been the convenient solution of sheltering the generals who were in the cities conquered by Karia, they could have given us advice based on their own experience... If they hadn''t all been captured and burnt at the stake, that is.

    Both Saraela and Yva were of the opinion that they should try negotiating first, and if it failed, to endure the siege thanks to their walls and their provisions. But they clearly didn''t get that there wouldn''t be any negotiation with the Great Sorceress. It wasn''t unheard of, to let citizens surrender in case of a siege, but there was very little room for doubt regarding the fate of the demons surrendering to Karia''s warm embrace. Her army wouldn''t care about things like war crimes, the moral values and code of the Empire didn''t apply to demons. And the Emperor himself was backing the mistreatment of demons. They''d be butchered, or burnt. When the city watch''s captain and the counsellor finally admitted that negotiations were only wishful thinking, they opted for something else.

    ¡°Prolonging the siege, they say...¡± he grumbled. ¡°And I''m supposed to protect the city from Karia''s magic. What am I, a mana shield on legs ?¡±

    Azcheron had been asked to demonstrate his ability. Lord Sazael might have trusted his spies, but counsellor Yva wanted to see for herself if the Rahal Saint was worth his salt. She was already convinced of his might by the time he unnecessarily knocked out the entire battalion of mages he was supposed to defend against, once they had ran out of spells to throw at him. Needless to say, queen Jacille was ecstatic, and it didn''t take much more than that for Azcheron to gain her trust.

    Infatuated was how Erin would describe Jacille''s behaviour toward Azcheron, but it felt petty to put it like that.

    ¡°Honestly, I can''t say that a prolonged siege is a good idea... Hell, it probably won''t happen, seeing how the Great Sorceress has been stomping everything until now. But if you don''t shield the city from her spells, I don''t see who will.¡±

    ¡°...Should let all of them die,¡± he muttered. ¡°I actually think we should follow queen Jacille''s proposal.¡±

    ¡°...And that would be...¡± She paused and frowned. ¡°Ah. Letting you lead an attack against Karia instead of defending the city, if I recall correctly.¡±

    ¡°You recall correctly !¡± he exclaimed, snapping his fingers. ¡°Such a marvellous plan from such a young mind. Yet her generals barely listen to her, the poor child. I should have supported her, since no one else did.¡±

    ¡°I think there''s a reason for that ? Experience ?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°Why do people listen to me then ?¡±

    Erin was speechless. Well, yeah... Why do they, in fact ?

    Thankfully, the Saint didn''t participate too much during the war councils. He just stood on the sidelines, listening for the most part and only intervening when there were talks of magic and battle spells. Erin raised a brow, as she realized something. ¡°Are you finally admitting that you have the military knowledge of a random tramp ?¡±

    He only gave her a crooked, frozen smile, which could very well have been an intimidating grimace. She was about to mock him when a deafening sound occurred.

    It was the horn. It was all there was for a few seconds. The magically enhanced horn echoing, the message it conveyed. Moments later, the horn faded, and they could now hear the city. Orders were screamed, children were crying and groups of guards were running around, footsteps shaking the ground and metal clinging and banging.

    The Saint looked at the horizon through the window, Erin did the same. Then, she saw it ¨C she didn''t even need Azcheron''s magic enhancing her vision. A sea of soldiers, banners and horses. She spotted a large banner that stood out ¨C white, silver and gold, the colours of the Great Sorceress.

    That was fast. She came sooner than I imagined. Did the scouts get caught or something ? We shouldn''t have been warned so late...

    Azcheron rubbed his chin. ¡°Hm.¡±

    He rushed down the stairs, Erin followed him without the same verve. Inside the castle, things were hectic. Servants running around, guards yelling, in the most annoying disorder. Several times Azcheron had to stop abruptly in his course to avoid banging his head on something or someone while taking a turn in the corridors.

    In the audience hall, they ran into queen Jacille and counsellor Yva. Saraela was at their side, along with a numerous escort.

    ¡°Lord Azcheron, lady Verald,¡± the queen said in a shaking voice. ¡°Are you on your way to the walls ?¡±

    ¡°We are indeed, my queen,¡± Azcheron answered very solemnly, to Erin''s confusion.

    Jacille nodded. ¡°I will pray to Pelirise for our victory.¡±

    ¡°And I shall bring you Karia''s head,¡± he said, putting his palm on his chest. ¡°As per our agreement.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the queen acquiesced. ¡°Do so and I promise to get my most eloquent bards and playwrights working.¡±

    Huh... I haven''t heard about that before. Please don''t tell me that THIS is going to be your reward.

    Saraela interjected. ¡°Lord Azcheron, please do not forget that you are to defend the south wall and the gates, before everything else.¡±

    ¡°Of course, of course. I wouldn''t dream of abandoning my post. I merely mean to say that, if Karia were to personally lead the attack, I''d throw myself body and soul into stopping her.¡±

    Both Saraela and Yva seemed to still harbour some disbelief, but they simply gave him a nod in the end. Erin, however, knew better than that. She didn''t really expect Azcheron to follow a plan he clearly disliked.

    ¡°Well then,¡± Saraela concluded, ¡°let us go to war.¡± They saluted the queen and her aunt, and left the castle. Queen Jacille would be waiting in the hall, on her throne, embracing either good or bad news with dignity, rather than cowering in an underground dungeon or at the summer altar.

    Erin had to admit, she didn''t exactly like the girl and her unstable, na?ve demeanour, but there was something sincere and genuine about her, as Azcheron said. Whatever backstory lurked behind this strange niece-aunt duo, Erin didn''t know ¨C perhaps a tragic, tear-jerking story worthy of compassion and understanding ¨C but the result today was surely something different from the usual cold and calculating rulers. Emperors, kings, demon lords and the likes, they weren''t famed for their touching gentleness.

    Not that there really was anything touching or gentle in a nine year-old child dismembering people and nailing them to columns to honour a god, but well...

    As Erin and Azcheron followed Saraela, drums and trumpets could now be faintly heard in the distance. It didn''t come from the city, but from the distance. From the Imperial army.

    ¡°They''re already close,¡± the captain cursed. As they walked down the stairs leading to the castle, they could still see beyond the walls. Karia''s army was organizing itself, moving ballistas, trebuchets and magic cannons. It seemed like they could attack anytime now. Erin expected to see boats, rafts and such, to attack the other walls via the river, but perhaps that would come later.

    ¡°Why didn''t we learn of their arrival sooner ?¡± Erin asked Saraela.

    ¡°We lost contact with the scouts. Probably killed or captured. As for the mages supposed to watch the horizon... I don''t know, I guess they''re not trained enough ? This situation is a first for most of us.¡±

    ¡°Personally, I don''t mind,¡± Azcheron retorted. ¡°What would life be without its share of incompetence ? In fact, I love incompetent people. It''s thanks to them that I look so mighty and all-knowing. We should have more of those.¡±

    Saraela looked offended, but she didn''t bother to argue. ¡°...We''ll split up here. I''ll find Vraxil, you two go to the gates. Rudolph should already be there.¡±

    ¡°Captain,¡± Erin called out, grabbing her by the wrist. ¡°Your father asked us to protect you. You should stay close to us, or at least away from the walls.¡±

    Surprisingly, she didn''t get angry. Instead, she gave a sad smile. ¡°Lady Verald, you know it is not I who will face the biggest danger. You''ll be fighting at the gates and the south wall. The other parts of the city won''t be under as much pressure. I''ll be okay.¡±

    ¡°...If it gets dangerous, please retreat in the castle.¡±

    Saraela nodded confidently, yet she couldn''t hide entirely her shaking. ¡°I know you do not believe in our gods, so I won''t pray for your safety. I''ll just say... May fortune be with you two.¡±

    And on these words, Saraela left them. Without losing any time, Erin and Azcheron made their way to the gates. The place was very busy, knights and archers were readying themselves, supplies such as bolts, oil and stones were gathered, and the few battle mages here were trying to meditate and calm down.

    Erin thought that most of these magicians looked like they were on the verge of panic, in truth. She would want to avoid having one of them messing up a spell and blasting away half the guards on the wall, but she didn''t have the time to worry about others. Erin herself wasn''t exactly calm either, after all.Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°Worried ?¡± Azcheron asked, seemingly catching on Erin''s state.

    Of course I am.

    ¡°Of course not,¡± she said, waving the truth away. ¡°I just don''t want one of your colleagues to faint while casting a fireball, you see ? Don''t particularly want to be burned alive because of my allies, Karia is already plenty enough.¡±

    ¡°Ah, well, I understand that. Anton often told be about how gruesome it can get when a mage botches a spell. Melted limbs and split ribcages ! It''s not pretty !¡± he almost yelled, as if to make sure the mages heard him. One of them probably did, since he proceeded to suddenly vomit. ¡°Ha !¡± Azcheron pointed a mocking finger toward the ill wizard.

    Erin sighed. ¡°Are you trying to turn them into useless wimps or something ?¡±

    ¡°Bah. I could probably manage the magical defence of the entire city all by myself... A handful of shivering mages won''t make much of a difference.¡±

    ¡°That''s assuming you do your job and indeed protect the city... I know you''re grumpy because you won''t get to throw flashy magic at the enemy, but it''s important that you fulfil your role.¡±

    Azcheron seemed to be thinking deeply about something. ¡°Flashy magic, huh ?¡± he finally said. ¡°Hmm, true, I should start developing a trade-mark magic. Karia has her fire pillars, Anton his storm magic, but I do not have any recognizable spell, do I ?¡±

    Err... I''m not entirely sure it''s the right time to try out things.

    Pushing aside her feelings of unease ¨C regarding her own safety and the panicking mages ¨C and dread ¨C regarding the city''s safety and Azcheron ¨C Erin followed her friend as they climbed the stairs of a tower to join Rudolph. Being a veteran who had travelled just about everywhere on the continent, he happened to take part in siege battles several times, finding himself on either side. Therefore the demons had deemed him entirely fit for command in such a situation.

    Rudolph was sitting on a wooden crate, in his black armour, his helm resting on his lap. The frown he wore as he stared at Karia''s preparation augured no good. The middle-aged bounty hunter noticed the pair, and pointed toward a large triangular shaped thing, that was being placed in front of the bridge by a group of Imperial soldiers.

    ¡°See the ugly machine there ?¡± Erin felt her vision distorting as Azcheron casted sight magic on her and himself. It was indeed ugly. A triangular roof, covered in wet furs of some sort, and a large, long, mean-looking beam. It was a battering ram. The beam was glowing, as if it was enchanted.

    ¡°Nasty thing,¡± Rudolph continued. ¡°It breaches gates much faster than any regular ram. We''ll have to take down the guys manning it, and the mages protecting it.¡±

    ¡°So I guess that means Karia won''t be leading the attack ? We''ll have to wait until she comes out ?¡± Azcheron complained. ¡°Mnggh. I don''t feel like doing this anymore.¡±

    ¡°And I feel like throwing you in the damn river, but I don''t because I''m not a whining brat,¡± Erin growled. The tension, added to Azcheron''s antics, was starting to get on her nerves.

    He must have understood that because, to Erin''s surprise, he refrained from fooling around and jesting for a while. The city felt rather silent, now. Well, aside from the drums, the horns and the din caused by the preparations. But there was very little talking, merely orders and small talk that began and faltered altogether. The air became heavy, as the mages and archers waited on the walls, and the enemy assembled in front of the bridge, out of arrow''s reach. Some of the archers looked very eager to shoot a few arrows already, but the supplies were limited and the orders were clear ¨C no waste of any sort would be allowed.

    Then, after what felt like an eternity, things started to move. Trebuchets and ballistas were loaded, and battalions formed near the river. Still no boats, but a figure clad in white and gold approached the shore. It was the Great Sorceress, obviously ¨C if Erin hadn''t understood by looking at her, she''d have known by looking at Azcheron. He was tense, probably thinking that it''d be his chance to get the sorceress'' head.

    Is she going to attack then ?

    Under the cheers of her men, Karia raised her hand toward the river. Erin only had the time to hear Azcheron emit a surprised growl before feeling a sudden and very harsh drop in temperature.

    The river became ice, and the men started running on it, toward the city.

    ¡°Wha-¡±

    Then a rain of stone and fire came from the skies, into the city, arrows piercing people, spells and rocks crushing houses, in a loud, heavy blend of noises.

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Azcheron sat and supported his chin with both his palms. ¡°She''s good at ice magic too. I wonder whether the soldiers have spiked boots or enhanced soles...¡±

    ¡°Don''t simply stay here !¡± Rudolph barked. ¡°See all the men running on the ice, the battering ram approaching the gates, and the god damn hell falling on us ? Get to work !¡±

    ¡°Hrmpf. I''m waiting for Karia.¡±

    ¡°She won''t come anytime soon,¡± Erin said. ¡°Look.¡± She pointed toward the shiny figure, sinking back into the sea of soldiers still waiting. She''s probably going to let her army unwind their fanatic hatred for now.

    Azcheron blankly gazed at his target. ¡°We can''t have that, can we ? There''s nothing amazing in having a long siege, right ? And the longer we wait, the more people here die. My popularity will decrease.¡±

    Before Erin could retort something smart like ''you''re not even popular to begin with'', the Saint stood up and looked down at the frozen river. He turned back and gave an innocent smile to Erin ¨C that was enough to let her know. She didn''t have time to voice her objections, as he climbed the battlements, simply said ¡°I leave things here to you !¡± and jumped.

    Rudolph looked bewildered. As for Erin, the darkest feelings of anger and bloodlust were creeping in her mind. By the time she leaned on the battlements and looked down, Azcheron was already running on the frozen river with Manasprint, annihilating any troops he came across with wind blades, as he went in a straight line toward Karia''s location.

    ¡°Okay then,¡± Rudolph finally said, grabbing two bows and handing one to Erin. ¡°Let''s do our part.¡±

    They joined the others bowmen in shooting volleys of arrows at the invaders. Erin herself wasn''t much of an archer, but she realized she was still better than most here. Either they had poor training, or poor collectedness. Poorest than Erin''s, in any case. She kept shooting for some time, mainly at the soldiers approaching the gates via the bridge, with the battering ram.

    We should make the damn bridge explode, she cursed, noticing the ignoble crowd of soldiers hurrying along the bridge with their shields up. Why couldn''t Azcheron do that, for instance ! Or at least, destroying a few catapults, that would have been nice. Melting the frozen river would have helped too.

    For now, the mages were managing to blow up or block the biggest projectiles and spells before they reached the city, but that made them too busy to help killing the enemy. And arrows were still an issue. Already, the ram was crashing against the doors, and the other walls requested more archers since they weren''t expecting the river to be frozen, allowing a much more important attack than if the enemy was on boat.

    ¡°The gates won''t hold for long !¡± someone yelled. As Erin shot her last arrows and prepared herself for the carnage that would happen down there at the gates, a powerful white flash came from the Imperial camp.

    She looked toward the direction Azcheron went in. A large lightning arc went through the sea of soldiers, sending people flying and shattering to pieces a good number of catapults and cannons. As if to answer the magic, a massive pillar of flame erupted from somewhere in the crowd, and the heatwave came soon after. The battle between Azcheron and Karia had begun.

    The Imperial soldiers on the ice and on the bridge all looked confused for a short moment. They surely didn''t expect to have a magic battle of an absurdly large scale at their back, but they quickly focused back on breaching the city''s defences, with a renewed haste. Perhaps they were worried the ice would melt at this rate.

    And so their efforts soon bore fruit. In a loud crashing sound, the gates were opened. Yelling and clashing swords followed. Erin rushed down the stairs, weapon in hand, when another bright flash made the ramparts'' shadow grow against the city for a second.

    When the shadows disappeared, hell showed itself. A storm of blades and blood was swirling around the gates, in a deafening rumbling of stomping horses, clinging armour, steel banging against steel and slashing through flesh, and corpses collapsing on the ground.

    Without thinking twice, Erin jumped in the melee.

    She approached the closest Imperial soldier she found, from the side, hacking at him and sending his arm flying. A demon on horseback finished the man soon after, then in turn got cut down by an axe. She dodged a slash from the new opponent. Before she could counter-attack, the axeman took an arrow in the eye and fell on the ground. Erin stabbed him for good measure and then focused on other enemies amidst the chaos, trying to stay calm.

    That proved hard to do ¨C her heart was racing and her vision was blurred. With her helm she wasn''t even seeing much to begin with, and her own loud breathing was reverberating and deafening her, but it was still better than being bare-headed. She didn''t want an arrow of her own lodged in her eye-socket. A young soldier came running at her with a mace but was immediately taken down by a spear through the neck. She nodded to the demon who intercepted him and went back to looking around her, while several white flashes occurred from the other side of the wall.

    Another orange light rose in the sky, sending once more a wave of heat. Some brave and idiot lad tried to attack her from behind while yelling, so she cleaved his head in two. She yet again looked around, and amidst the carnage, spotted Rudolph who was dealing with two foes. The bounty hunter parried one of his opponents and stabbed his stomach, before blocking a strike from the other. Erin didn''t have time to watch the rest of his fight nor help him, for the enemies kept pouring through the gates, and Pelirise''s soldiers kept collapsing one by one. Erin quickly understood the reason.

    There was a magician throwing obnoxious paralysing bolts, hidden behind a wall of soldiers. She yelled to a handful of tough looking demons, pointing to the mage. They followed her, as she carved her way through the crowd of Imperial warriors. Dodged a few horses, picked up a shield laying around and started bashing people out of her way. One of the guys following her fell down, got trampled by a rider. Finally reaching the annoying mongrel playing wizard, she kicked away one of the men defending him, sliced his throat, while the demons fought the others. She then buried the edge of her shield in the mage''s face, knocking his teeth out in a gargle as he was probably about to do an incantation. His jaw was now dangling, blood dripping from it. Erin gave him a few more hits to make sure he was dead.

    She looked up, panting roughly like a wild beast, tried to calm down and assess the situation. She was now under the gates, and Pelirise''s forces were gradually regaining ground. From here she could see the horizon ¨C the thunder, the fire and the explosions in the distance. The magic battle kept raging. An electric arc twisting like a whip, a blast of light dispelling it, then a rain of massive ice lances, clawed away by a wave of fire... Erin would have liked to keep watching, were it not for a fancy dressed knight on horseback suddenly striking from the side, grazing her leg with his spear.

    ¡°You, I know you !¡± the knight said ecstatically through his decorated helmet. ¡°This armour, this crest... You''re Verald, the traitor ! I''ll cut your bitch head off, hah !¡±

    ¡°Eat shit,¡± she flatly retorted as she avoided a thrust from the spear, before slashing at the mount. Her sword got stuck in the horse''s body, and the animal fell to the side, crushing the man''s leg. With her shield Erin immobilized the knight against the ground, then unsheathed the dagger at her waist and drove it through his helm''s sight slit. Repeatedly, ignoring the screams of the man, screams that stopped soon enough.

    She removed her weapon from the horse''s cadaver and felt satisfied for a moment, but her glee was disturbed by a high pitched noise and a massive detonation from the other side of the bridge. Several lights flashed brightly in the sky. Whatever spell that was, it didn''t felt safe at all. Erin''s intuition was confirmed when huge orbs of light came crashing everywhere at high speed, exploding against the walls and destroying towers. Imperial soldiers on the other side of the bridge were blasted away, the ice from the frozen river was cracked, and more generally everyone unfortunate enough to be close to one of these orbs was splattered in a blast of blood and guts.

    The same high pitched noise occurred, and another deflagration came. More deadly magic balls flying around. A large part of the rampart crumbled, and some people got crushed by the rocks. Erin avoided an avalanche of large stones by a hair''s breadth, but a demon next to her didn''t have this chance and got his skull flattened.

    Erin turned around with the intent of getting away from everything that could end up falling on her head, but came to a stop as the castle came in her sight. The castle was leaning. Bits of the keep were falling apart and crashing down in the city. Then a good chunk of the upper part simply collapsed to the side, raising a cloud of smoke and dust with the impact.

    A sudden hit on her helmet sent her on the ground. A stone, probably. Stunned, her ears ringing, she clumsily reeled away from the danger zone, only to find herself held by the shoulders as she was about to fall again. She got dragged by someone. The black armour told her it was Rudolph. ¡°Still alive in there ?¡± he asked.

    Erin nodded. ¡°I believe so. What happened ?¡±

    She didn''t really need to ask. This haphazard, chaotic magic is probably not Karia''s, since she cares for her men. And Azcheron did say he wanted to try out some flashy magic...

    Rudolph was apparently of the same opinion. ¡°Our esteemed friend almost killed us all, I gather. I''m not sure queen Jacille and counsellor Yva are even alive.¡± Following Rudolph''s gaze, Erin observed the castle. It had collapsed on the side, not on itself. If the queen and her aunt were in the audience hall at the time, there was a chance they were more or less unhurt.

    She could hear the battle continuing, but couldn''t see any enemy around them, so she took her helm off. Rudolph had dragged her to some open area that perhaps used to be stables, with horses and wounded people laying on the straw. How they could get any sort of rest with the frenzied horses next to them, she didn''t know but didn''t care either. The gate was being defended by Pelirise''s guards, and it didn''t seem like there were many Imperial soldiers left in the city, although she didn''t know about the other walls. She somewhat hoped Saraela was alive.

    Someone blew a horn on the other side of the walls. Her eyes widened when she realized what was happening. ¡°They''re sounding the retreat ?¡±

    Erin, Rudolph and a lot of other soldiers rushed to the walls, or what remained of it. From here, they could see Karia''s disorganized army, slowly retreating. Some sort of human whirlpool was happening far away, with the occasional explosion or flash of light. That was Azcheron, no doubt.

    ...Did he win ? If that''s the case, he''s probably dealing with angry followers of Karia ?

    But something felt strange. If it was indeed Azcheron, why wasn''t he coming back to Pelirise ? He was getting further and further away. As if... he was being pushed back.

    She glanced around and spotted a random guy wearing a robe on the walls. Grabbing him by the collar, she barked at him. ¡°Do some sight magic or something on me, quick !¡± Seeing his hesitant silence, she gave him an incentive. ¡°Now, or I''ll shove that large stone in your rear !¡±

    The mage complied gracefully and Erin gazed at the strange occurrence with her enhanced vision. All she saw was waves of soldiers getting blown away by flashes and blasts ¨C but Azcheron''s magic seemed different from what he had been using earlier. It looked... tired and unfocused, and the fanatical soldiers kept gathering and piling up around him.

    ¡°We have to go there,¡± she said, walking back next to Rudolph.

    He frowned. ¡°No, we need to clean up the other walls. And what you have in mind is suicide. There''s no guarantee he actually managed to kill Karia.¡±

    Erin stared at him and exhaled deeply. ¡°Why are you here anyway ? Being in the north is suicide.¡±

    ¡°...I imagine you''ll still charge into this mess, even alone, but I don''t plan to stop you.¡± He paused for a bit. ¡°Maybe I''ll tell you why I came here, when you come back. If we both survive.¡±

    ¡°Are you mimicking Azcheron ? This sounds like one of these novel things where the death of one of us is foreshadowed.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps. Better make sure you stay alive then,¡± Rudolph scoffed. He waved for soldiers to accompany him as he strode in the direction of Saraela''s wall.

    Not losing a second, Erin ran to the stables, jumped on the less insane-looking horse with a saddle on, and rode through the gates, toward the sea of Imperial soldiers. It was indeed not far from suicide, but she didn''t have much of a choice, did she ? After all, a certain someone looked like he needed to be rescued.

 50 - The northern campaign XII

    ¡°My job is to run ! I like running ! Sometimes I have to carry humans ! They are made of steel ! They''re heavy ! And shiny ! Sometimes I have to run on other humans ! They''re shiny too ! They hit me and it hurts ! But I like to run ! The humans scream when I run on them but I have to keep running ! Sometimes there are other horses ! So we all run on the shiny humans ! Or else they cut us with their swords !

    -Horse¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°Kill him !¡±

    ¡°Cut his hands, his feet !¡±

    ¡°Chop his manhood and shove it in his mouth !¡±

    ¡°Ngarghl !¡±

    His explosion spell granted him half a second of silence but soon enough other soldiers took their turn at barking threats to his face.

    These madmen ! How many must I crush before they stop ?

    The flood of crazy soldiers, blinded with rage and bloodlust, stopped Azcheron from catching his breath. A flick of his wrist created another explosion that sent to their grave some thirty opponents. The shooting pain in his arm and his leg proved to be more hindering than he first assumed. Damn crossbow bolts. He had been taken by surprise like an amateur, as he was busy rejoicing and cutting Karia''s head.

    The throbbing ache was breaking his concentration ¨C probably hit a bone or something ¨C, forbidding him from using very complex spells, but he had no idea whether another one of these blast of mana orb would really make a difference here or not. There was so many of those imbeciles, he''d probably drain every single drop of the north''s mana before killing all these guys.

    Still, now would have been a good time to cast that overly destructive magic he stumbled upon, but he wasn''t sure he could afford to use it. He had spent a good chunk of his own mana against the Great Sorceress, so now he had to do with the raw mana around Pelirise ¨C he didn''t want a repeat of the battle with Oscar.

    Depleting his own mana had been a rather displeasing experience, so he felt the smart course of action here was to manipulate his favourite tool, the environment''s raw mana. Which had been quite devoured through the battle, too : not only Azcheron relied a lot on it during his fight, but so did Karia. Perhaps he''d really end up consuming all of it. Was it even possible in the first place ? Probably not, but he wasn''t willing to find out in this situation.

    Holding tightly his bloodied package, his prize, with his unhurt arm, he kept painfully limping away from the crowd, their mean-looking spears and swords, and their even more mean-looking grimaces. He wished he could treat his leg in order to use Manasprint and escape this uncomfortable place, but he couldn''t exactly do that either. The healing arts required time he didn''t have.

    I don''t know why I even expected these people to let me leave peacefully. I figured they''d be scared, fleeing and trying to survive, at least ! Not mindlessly throwing away their lives in fruitless attempts to end mine.

    A glance to the side and a dozen of heads fell. Both fortunately and unfortunately for Azcheron, his pursuers had seemingly lost most of their sanity ¨C that meant they weren''t really attacking him with things such as coordination, organization or cunning. But that also meant they''d keep attacking no matter how many limbs and heads got sliced.

    He had no choice but to pave his way back to Pelirise with bodies, but he had the displeasing feeling that the large number of frenzied soldiers was overbearing his own magic. Another batch of enemies exploded, and small bits of guts found their way on Azcheron''s head.

    How disgraceful.

    As he kept dealing with the waves of fanatics, he caught sight of something interesting in the direction of the city ¨C no, not the castle he had accidentally destroyed, it was something much closer. Much more pleasing too.

    It was some angry-looking woman on a horse, trampling on the soldiers and swinging her sword at them, as she rode toward Azcheron.

    Such convenience ! Here, come quicker if you may, dearest Erin. I grow tired of this moronic carnage.

    Apparently not caring one bit for gentleness, the saviour didn''t bother to slow down, picked up the Saint by the collar as if he was a disgusting grunt and lifted him on the horse before turning around and riding back toward Pelirise.

    A magnanimous Azcheron killed a few soldiers that came too close to the horse, and decided to thank his rescuer. ¡°You took your sweet time.¡±

    ¡°I can still toss you away here, it''s not too late,¡± she retorted flatly. ¡°Seeing how popular you are, I''m thinking of giving you back to your followers.¡±

    He grimaced and blasted another bunch of fanatics out of their horse''s way. ¡°I''d be much obliged if you refrained from doing so. They have no tenderness, this bunch. They''d chop my tongue off and gouge my eyes out if they had the chance. Some kind of wicked love this is. I much prefer your love.¡±

    She clicked her tongue. ¡°You''ll come to hate my love too, if you keep acting like a suicidal monkey.¡±

    ¡°Now, now, don''t say that. I''ll always love your love,¡± he said, turning his head to look at her. She made a strange expression.

    ¡°I don''t even know what this love of mine is supposed to be.¡±

    It''s because our romance is dragging on, dear heroine. We should speed it up, for my future readers'' sake.

    ¡°So,¡± she continued, glancing at the thing wrapped in the blood soaked white and gold toga, ¡°...I assume you killed her ?¡±

    ¡°Damn right I did,¡± he bellowed, clinging to his prize. ¡°I told you I would, right ? Who do you take me for !¡±

    She made a sudden turn to avoid a group of pikemen that Azcheron didn''t see, swiftly catching him with one arm as he almost fell to the side. ¡°An irresponsible fool ? You somewhat obliterated the city you were supposed to defend. I almost died myself, what the hell was that spell ?¡±

    ¡°Ha ! Was it flashy enough ?¡±

    ¡°Flashy ? You... Ugh, yeah, you''ll be remembered,¡± she said coldly. ¡°As the man who killed almost as many allies as he killed enemies.¡±

    He took an offended tone. ¡°Wasn''t my fault ! I didn''t expect the spell to do that! Had I known-¡±

    ¡°You casted it twice !¡± she hissed.

    ¡°I was hoping the second time would be different ?¡± he said, trying to lie his way out.

    Erin sighed. ¡°Look, I''m not entirely sure you''ll be popular after that...¡± Her voice was sad, like a mother explaining to her stupid child that his wooden toy was broken, or that his friend, the blacksmith''s son, wasn''t really his friend to begin with. Extremely condescending !

    Nevertheless, Azcheron took a second to think about his wording. ¡°...All fame is good fame. What matters now is that both the north and the Imperial army saw me fighting and killing the Great Sorceress. Of course there would be casualties, but it would have been ten times worse if I hadn''t been here.¡±

    ¡°Do you believe that''s how they''ll see it ?¡±

    Azcheron shook his head. ¡°I don''t need them to see me as a shining hero, not at the moment anyway. For now, Jacille and Sazael''s poets and minstrels will do some publicity for me. And you know what they say, you can''t make a tale without breaking skulls.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°I''m fairly certain that''s not how the saying goes...¡±

    ¡°Oh, it''s not ?¡± he wondered without really caring. ¡°Well, you get the idea. This is war, I risked my life too, Karia wasn''t an easy kill, so... Don''t expect me to grovel and apologize to the people.¡±

    ¡°Stop messing around,¡± she muttered. ¡°You already have enough enemies.¡±

    Azcheron displayed his best smile. ¡°And once again, you''ll protect me if need be ! You''ve been doing a great job until now, by the way !¡±

    He expected a glare or a scold in return, but Erin only let out a tired sigh. Perhaps she had enough of his deliberate foolishness for today.

    As they approached Pelirise, they encountered less and less fleeing soldiers, until there none were left. They must have all retreated, albeit in a disorganized fashion ¨C lots of Imperial corpses pierced with arrows or half flattened. The archers and the cavalry probably couldn''t resist killing off the fleeing invaders.

    The Imperial army had obviously suffered heavy casualties, and Anton always said that a disorganized retreat always ended in a carnage. Some thirty-thousand people, united under the banner of madness and hate. A mob or a horde, rather than an army : all it took to make that unity crumble was the death of Karia...

    The Saint looked back, expecting his fanatical pursuers to be running after him, in the distance. Surprisingly, there was no one pursuing them now. Their carelessness and eagerness to annihilate Azcheron was probably due to him being isolated deep in the enemy camp, on foot.

    Now that he was on horse, returning to Pelirise, they were surely less keen to throw away their life in a stupid revenge attempt. The relative peacefulness gave him the time he needed to heal his wounds a bit, though it was rudimentary. He''d do a proper job later, when he wouldn''t be on a damn horse.

    * * *

    They weren''t exactly expecting to be welcomed back like heroes, but they certainly were surprised too see soldiers and people cheering for them as they entered Pelirise. It seemed Azcheron was at least partly right. While the city''s inhabitants probably thought they''d all die in the flames of the Great Sorceress, they were saved by some unknown human mage.

    People liked heroes, after all.

    At first he thought that maybe, they hadn''t realized that the chaotic spell was his, but he was proved otherwise. Azcheron could clearly glimpse a few unhappy faces glaring at him, but these things couldn''t be avoided. He saw sadness, resentment, anger. There had been unfair losses, unwarranted deaths ¨C and he had been one of the causes. Still, many expressions of joy and celebration, it felt nice. Glorious, even.

    It''s a good start. Once I''ll retell and spread the details of my battle, it''ll be even better. It would have looked amazing, in fact, if I wasn''t stuck on Erin''s horse like some damn princess.

    Rudolph was here, too, and so was Saraela. Erin looked relieved to know of the captain''s safety ¨C Azcheron was satisfied too, though it had more to do with Sazael''s request and his reward.

    ¡°Let us go to the castle,¡± Saraela advocated. She glanced at Azcheron''s trophy. ¡°Queen Jacille is waiting for your good news¡±

    It was Azcheron''s turn to be relieved, now. He quite liked the girl. That, and he would have done all this for nothing, had the queen died. Worst, died because of him ! The irony.

    They rode slowly across the city, as to show themselves to the people. The roads were in a fairly bad state anyway, so it wouldn''t have been easy to go faster. The city had suffered quite a lot from the attack overall. Putting aside the castle and the damage caused by the collapsing tower, a lot of houses were crumbling. And the corpses. The corpses were being transported, but some were still laying around.

    The cheering crowd looked somewhat out of place amidst the devastation.

    They dismounted before climbing the stairs leading to the castle. Azcheron walked theatrically in front of everyone, carrying the package under his arm, his hair and feathered coat swaying in the wind. He was perfectly convinced to be the embodiment of style at the moment. Nothing, not even Erin''s exasperated sigh, could possibly ruin this moment.

    Queen Jacille and counsellor Yva were waiting at the top of the stairs, along with their guards. As he climbed the last step, Azcheron gave his most charismatic smile, unwrapped his trophy and displayed Karia''s pale head, holding it by the hair. Once of a beautiful brown, it was now dirtied with blood and mud. Raising his arm and turning around so that the citizens could see, too. As they all stared into the lifeless eyes of the general, they entered some sort of disturbing, overjoyed madness.

    So much hatred... he thought, gazing at the sorceress'' head. I''ll probably have a fairly abominable reputation in the Empire from now on, but I''m not sure even my own severed head could trigger such happiness among the Imperial people... I don''t feel like finding out, in any case. I like my head where it is now.

    Eventually, he faced Jacille. ¡°My queen.¡± He was neither bowing nor kneeling, of course. Towering above the queen despite his own modest height ¨C thank the gods, she was but a child after all ¨C, he wondered for a moment if he wasn''t looking a bit too intimidating.

    ¡°Saint Azcheron,¡± the girl answered, a slight flush on her cheeks. Though the severed head didn''t seem to faze her in the least, as expected of someone who carried out human sacrifices as a hobby. ¡°You did well. As promised, you shall have ballads and epics about your deeds, and even more.¡± She glanced at Yva and nodded.

    The counsellor stepped forward and addressed the crowd down the stairs in a surprisingly strong voice, despite the absence of sound magic. ¡°People of Pelirise ! Rejoice, for the invader has been repelled by our brave warriors ! They came to defile the city of our beloved goddess, and they failed ! It is not only our city''s victory today, but that of the entire north !¡±

    The people''s cheers increased twofold. She extended her arm, signalling for Azcheron to approach her, and continued. ¡°Here stands the man who made that victory possible, the man who defeated the Great Sorceress Karia in single combat ! Azcheron, the Rahal Saint ! People of Pelirise ! It is the wish of her majesty queen Jacille to grant this man, the hero of the north, a title worthy of his accomplishments ! All hail Saint Azcheron, Saviour of Pelirise !¡±

    She makes it sound like we''ve won the war already... Well, I suppose that without Karia against them, the north can manage on its own now ? Plus, the Imperial army''s moral must be awfully low.

    ¡°Saviour of Pelirise ! Saviour of Pelirise !¡± the crowd repeated, again and again.

    Hmm... It lacks originality but at least it conveys clearly what I did, Azcheron thought, judging his new title behind his perfect smiling mask while he waved at the people. Seeing how Jacille is a child and since this is supposed to be the city of sun and summer, I could have ended with some dumb title like ¡°Friend of the sun¡± or whatever...

    A few rounds of applause later, they went inside the castle. They talked and spoke and so on, but Azcheron wasn''t really listening. He was much busier thinking about his future songs. He''d have to meet with the bards and guide them in this important venture that would be the creation of his legend, to make sure they didn''t write garbage. What if the stupid writers mistook his mighty mana orbs for a pitiful light spell used in place of torches and candles ! The whole battle with Karia would be turned into a joke, and he would be the butt of it.

    He''d be the laughing stock of the mage community ! No, he''d have to be careful and show the bards what was what before they messed up his tale.

    Erin, Jacille and the others kept talking for a moment, something to do with a banquet and a ceremony the next day. Azcheron didn''t need to listen to these things, he would catch up by asking Erin, his trusted associate, saviour and agent. Erin, Erin, Erin... Come to think of it, she didn''t really get congratulated for her work, hm.

    He stared at her for a moment, until she finally took notice of his gaze and answered with a quizzical frown. He really enjoyed doing that. Staring at her, making it look as if he was thinking up some plot, when in fact he was simply staring at her. Her reactions were always the same. Wary and suspicious.

    He smiled to himself, hoping it wouldn''t change.

    * * *

    The evening came.

    Azcheron dipped a toe, then a foot, then immersed his whole body in the water by letting himself fall gracelessly into the bath.

    Queen Jacille had made her own royal baths available to him and Erin. Those were thermal baths, similar to the ones at Atharemine, except they were built in the castle, and were much more luxurious.

    As the Saint submerged his whole body in the hot water, he listened to the sounds of the city. Laughs and merry voices, mainly. It was rather soothing, different from the agitated, insane cheers he had witnessed earlier in the day.

    He glanced around, surveilling the bathing facility filled with steam, his gaze passing on the marble slabs, the columns, the windows, the arched doors leading to some small terrace, and finally stopped on Erin. He watched as she tossed her clothes away and stepped in the bath with, he had to admit, much more elegance than him.

    ¡°Show-off,¡± he called out.

    She looked at him for a second, maybe wondering what he was referring to. ¡°You''re the show-off.¡± That much was obvious, with the events of the day.

    ¡°Lies. I can''t help it if all the attention gather on me. You have no idea how bothering it is.¡±

    ¡°Poor thing,¡± she mocked. ¡°Being called the ''Saviour of Pelirise'', having half the city praising your name, seducing the queen... Such a hard life you lead.¡±

    ¡°Ha ! Jealous,¡± he snorted. He paused for a bit, then knitted his brows. ¡°What do you mean, ''seducing'' ?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean ? It''s obvious you''re her hero or something. You didn''t know ?¡±

    ¡°Huh ? No, of course I knew, but I didn''t seduce her, you... vile woman. She''s like ten.¡±

    ¡°And here I am, thinking I was your partner and most trusted accomplice...¡± she said in a fake complaining tone, ignoring his excuses and barely managing to hide her mocking smile. Probably using Azcheron''s own words on purpose.

    He rose to his feet and grumpily approached her. ¡°Don''t put me in a foul mood, I actually wanted to say something nice tonight.¡±

    And he had it all planned ! This game between them had been going on for too long. Anton''s novels taught him long ago about how to make things move a bit in such situations.

    ¡°Say something nice ? To me ?¡± she turned her head to the side and looked at him in the corner of her eye.

    He sat in front of her. ¡°To you.¡±

    ¡°Ha, that''s a first.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, pursing his lips. ¡°It''s not.¡±

    ¡°You''re right, it''s not. So what''s the occasion ?¡±

    ¡°I became the north''s saviour, and got handsomely rewarded as I asked, in case you haven''t heard, but-¡±

    ¡°Oh I''ve heard alright.¡± She smirked. ¡°I''d have heard it even if I was deaf, I think. Sorry, you were saying ?¡±

    ¡°...But you got nothing, yet once again you were my saviour.¡±

    She didn''t answer immediately. There was a certain awkwardness floating. This scene wasn''t exactly going the way he imagined it. The sentences sounded better in his mind...

    Yet she looked at him with curious eyes. ¡°Is that so. And do you think it earned me a, say, handsome reward of my own ? Can I choose ?¡±

    He felt hot ¨C perhaps it was the bath ? And his heart was thumping. Perhaps it was the heat !

    He came closer, drowning in the golden eyes. ¡°You can choose.¡±

    Erin leaned forward too, leaving very little space between Azcheron''s lips and hers. ¡°You know that if queen Jacille was to barge in here, she''d be jealous.¡±

    I don''t care about the queen.

    ¡°She wouldn''t like that,¡± she continued, her lips hovering around his mouth, his chin, finally kissing his neck.

    He embraced her, burying his face in her hair, whispering in her ear. ¡°Then we have to make sure she doesn''t find out.¡±

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, depicted the queen barging into the baths with a very convenient timing for drama, and a very inconvenient timing for the character themselves. Some other authors, aiming for a specific audience, romanticized the scene with copious, savoury details and overly sentimental dialogue.

    History tells of a less dramatic truth : queen Jacille didn''t enter the bathing facilities ¨C despite her dubious morals, she was way too polite to act so improperly. There wasn''t any sort of romantic sentence uttered after that, for Azcheron felt it had already been awkward enough.

    But the story of Azcheron and Erin''s bonding episode shall be spoken another time ¨C or perhaps this one shan''t ¨C for the much more serious story of a secret involving dragons, emperors and princes, is now about to be told.

 51 - A story of princes

    ¡°It is the finest vocation of all times,

    the mastery of words, of rhymes,

    the power to tell of the sublime.

    Only a few chosen of the gods,

    have the talent to tell of swords,

    shields, daggers and magic rods.

    They are the adepts of poetry,

    enthralling every lord and lady,

    singing about heroes for a modest fee.

    -mediocre bard, song about bards¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    Azcheron was woken up by a knock on his door. A strange rattling occurred, as if someone was trying to open the door forcefully, then another hurried knock. His head was aching, probably because of the hangover. The voice of a servant came from outside, but in his half-drunk, half-asleep state, he couldn''t make out the words. He felt he heard an interrogative sentence at some point, so he answered with a sort of non-committal groan to shoo the servant away. Silence came soon enough.

    Opening his eyes, he was attacked by the dizziness. Nngg... I don''t think I''ve ever been this drunk before.

    He turned his head to see a sleeping Erin by his side, her arm barring his shoulder. Gazing at her for a moment, he finally tossed the arm away and sat up on the bed. A glance at the sky through the window told him it was late in the morning.

    Why haven''t I been woken up sooner ? Damn servants.

    Then he remembered that he had melted the lock of his door ¨C that explained why nobody could enter the room to wake him. If he remembered well, he had done it at Erin''s request. No, it wasn''t anything like not wanting to be disturbed for... reasons. No, no.

    Rather, she insisted that his new-found fame should come with new safety measures. Not everyone was eager to praise his name and talk about his deeds. He would make more and more enemies from now on ¨C not only from the Empire, but even in Pelirise itself. Erin too seemed to have noticed some looks of anger among the crowd of cheering people the day before. Who knew what they were capable of, in a moment of rage.

    Well, protecting Azcheron in his moments of weakness was supposed to be Erin''s job, but that night she had clearly been drunker than him. She somehow still had the presence of mind to suggest that they should seal the door, what a mindful bodyguard !

    Once again someone tried to enter the room, and knocked hurriedly when they understood they couldn''t.

    ¡°Milord ! Milord, are you awake ? The sunlight ceremony will soon begin, queen Jacille is expecting you shortly !¡±

    Oh ! That''s right. I forgot about this annoying matter.

    The sunlight ceremony, or whatever it was called, was the thing that had been discussed before. Something about having Azcheron bathing in the goddess Pelirise''s light. The Saint didn''t mind ceremonies about the gods'' benedictions, and things of the sort, because it was a strong imagery and it would give him legitimacy, but this one would be happening on the altar ¨C or what served as the new altar, since he destroyed the part of the castle that supported the original. The goddess'' altar was a restricted area, and so only priests and important persons would be there. Not the common people. Meaning no cheers, no real fame, nothing interesting at all. A hassle, that''s what this ceremony is, Azcheron thought, frowning. And it would take place while the sun was at its zenith ¨C very soon.

    So that''s why they''re furiously trying to open my door.

    Azcheron exhaled deeply, and realized his breath was stinking of wine and ale. He wasn''t exactly in the right disposition for such an important religious ceremony, but whatever. First, he had to wake Erin. She wasn''t obligated to attend, but Azcheron, as the generous person he was, couldn''t possibly let her miss on her share of the annoyance.

    * * *

    It wasn''t especially interesting. Standing in the centre of the altar under the sun for a long time, while priests made cryptic speeches, things of the sort. They asked that he kneeled under the sun, but of course, he didn''t ¨C so the priests slightly altered the progress of the ceremony, at the queen''s intimidating request. Something about being branded as heretics and traitors if they refused to comply. The priests most likely wanted to avoid being sacrificed on the altar, so they did a rather free interpretation of their religious texts and allowed that Azcheron stood still.

    He felt very pleased about the inconvenience he caused, of course. A revenge against a ceremony he didn''t feel like taking part in. That was all it took for him to go back to a merrier mood.

    Next on his agenda was something he was extremely eager to do ¨C meeting with Jacille''s bards. Her court was full of minstrels, playwrights and artists, and they were supposed to be the best Pelirise had to offer. She made them entirely available for Azcheron ¨C he wouldn''t have to spend a single coin commissioning their songs, since they were already employed by Jacille.

    They spent the rest of the day and the night locked in a room together ¨C the feast planned for the evening had to be postponed to the next day ¨C, but the statement would be more expressive this way : the bards were locked in a room with Azcheron. This specific way would convey clearly how the writers were in the suffering position, like sheep locked in a cage with a wolf. The Saint himself was, of course, perfectly aware of the writers'' feelings, he simply chose to ignore them.

    It was now morning, and they were still trying to read their first drafts under Azcheron''s iron-handed supervision.

    ¡°Attacking from the left flank,

    Causing panic and mayhem,

    His enemies'' blood he drank,

    As he brought death upon them.¡±

    ¡°I didn''t drink their damn blood, you filthy imbecile !¡± Azcheron corrected politely, walking furiously across the room. ¡°What am I, a demon or something ?¡±

    The bard took a pitiful tone. ¡°But milord, we demons do not drink bl-¡±

    ¡°I know, I was insulting you. Find something else.¡±

    Another bard tried his luck. ¡°Err... Attacking from the left flank, causing panic and-¡±

    ¡°What do we care which flank I came from anyway ?¡± the Saint wondered, frowning. ¡°Doesn''t that feel like superfluous information ? People don''t want to know about that, they want action, so make it more interesting.¡±

    A bard that had been keeping silent until now decided to read his draft. ¡°Milord, I believe I may have something ?¡±

    Azcheron sat in an armchair and supported his head with his fist. He nodded to the bard, without expecting much.

    ¡°Crashing against the horde of enemies,

    the Saint casted his beautiful magic,

    a thousand lights brought deadly melodies,

    the cries and screams of dying fanatics.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± he groaned in approval, and waved the bard to continue.

    ¡°Milord is too good, I am not deserving of such a praise,¡± he hurriedly answered, grovelling before the Saint. ¡°The next verse is about milord''s battle with the Great Sorceress.¡±

    ¡°Go on.¡±

    ¡°Fearless and brave, the elegant wizard,Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!

    Stood superior against the sorceress,

    Engulfing her flames in a strong blizzard,

    The evil whore fell, for she lacked noblesse.¡±

    ¡°What''s this ? Are you sure you wrote both verses ? Because the last one is crap.¡±

    ¡°Milord, apologies, if you tell me what to-¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, stop clinging to my leg, it''s distasteful,¡± he said, shaking his foot so that the man would stop trying to lick it. I won''t behead you for such a puny mistake, damnit.

    He sighed and continued. ¡°First of all, it''s inaccurate. Her fire magic was stronger than my ice magic. And don''t call her a whore and names like that. She didn''t lack noblesse, and that imaginary lack was certainly not the reason she lost. She lost because I was better, that''s all. But she was a worthy opponent, and I need you to convey that properly. The stronger the foe I vanquish, the better I look. Don''t you know these things ? It''s supposed to be your job...¡±

    ¡°Milord, it would be disgraceful to honour the sorceress'' memory... She is but a fanatic that brought only tragedy and destruction. It would be indecent to praise her.¡±

    ¡°I don''t care, it''s my tale, you''re not working for some princess or whatever. You will do as I say, and you will become rich thanks to me.¡±

    And how is it not indecent to call someone a whore anyway ?

    The bards looked at each other and during that single exchange of glances, apparently came to an understanding ¨C money was better than decency. Decency couldn''t bring food on the table or buy things, after all.

    ¡°Then, milord, allow us to correct our past mistakes. We shan''t leave this room until a suitable depiction of your battle is found.¡± On these words, they began to talk together with much more verve. The evil shackles of decency broken, their inspiration must have been flowing now.

    Looks like they came to their senses... he concluded, smiling to himself. Why does it always have to be in rhymes and metres, though ? I feel it''s unnecessarily complicated. And why does everyone here call me ''milord'' since yesterday ? Is this a grand joke happening behind my back or something ?

    Azcheron casted his paranoid thoughts aside and joined the bards in their discussion, to make sure his battle was written the way he wanted. At some point, someone tried to enter the room, but couldn''t, since once again he had melted the lock to stop the writers from escaping.

    Walking to the door, he used magic to unhinge and remove it from the doorway. He was met with the wrinkled face of the Pigeon-master, who looked rather surprised to witness Azcheron''s unconventional method of door-opening. Finally triumphing of his confusion, he handed out two parchments.

    ¡°This one is from lord Sazael of Atharemine,¡± the old pigeon fancier said, pointing to one of the two letters. ¡°The other, I do not know, only that it has an Imperial seal...¡± It was said with disgust in the man''s voice.

    ¡°Thank you, Pigeon-master. You may leave.¡± The man nodded and complied.

    Azcheron glanced at his bards in the room, and seeing they were still busy, stepped out of the room and laid his back against the wall before breaking the seal of Sazael''s message.

    ¡°Honourable Saint,

    I have heard of your victory at Pelirise, and of my daughter''s safety. You have my admiration for the former task, and my most sincere thanks for the latter. As we agreed, you shall have songs and books praising you. I would ask you to come to Atharemine so that I can introduce you to my personal bards, but friends told me you''d meet with queen Jacille''s artists first.

    About friends... it seems you still have some in the Empire. A bird came from the Imperial capital, with a message for you. I am joining it to mine, as a token of my friendship. And as a token of your friendship, you wouldn''t blame me for reading that letter, I assume. After all, we both know you are a man of many mysteries.

    Sazael, lord of Atharemine¡±

    ¡°Ha !¡± This guy, I can''t believe it. Azcheron cursed as he noticed that the seal of the second letter had been broken and repaired with magic. What''s with his ''friends'' anyway... I only met the bards yesterday, are his spies sending him a bird for each and every single thing I do !?

    He opened the second letter, and frowned as he went through it.

    ¡°Brat,

    I found myself in mortal danger thanks to the mess you left behind. Please retrieve it shortly. Rude problem-solvers came to me with sharp knifes and expressed their eagerness to deal with whatever you started in the most uncivilized fashion. Our moustached friend got caught in an unenviable situation while he was searching for you know what. I believe you are a curse to all of us, but if you have an ounce of humanity left, you will take care of this matter.

    Your best friend who''s growing tired of your antics.¡±

    Anton sending such a letter ¨C because only Anton could write a thing like that ¨C, that was fairly strange. And worrying. Thankfully, the scholar had avoided giving out obvious names and explicit information, in case someone intercepted the letter and read it ¨C which was exactly what Sazael did.

    In any case, he had to find Erin and speak with her about this matter. The letter wasn''t precise enough to tell what or who it involved, aside from Anton, the Dragon tongue linguist and assassins. The fact that he was also clearly making allusion to his search for his clan''s past was intriguing.

    He glanced yet again in the room. The bards were still arguing, so he lifted the door and put it back where it belonged, and melted it some more so that it wouldn''t budge, and neither would the bards.

    * * *

    ¡°Are you completely out of your mind ?¡±

    Erin didn''t seem to like Azcheron''s proposal, which was to return to the capital to see Anton.

    He shrugged. ¡°I would say that I actually am. ''Tis not everyday that you see me acting like a proper friend to Anton ! Maybe love really makes people dumb... See ? Your fault, only the elegant you could have this effect on me.¡±

    ¡°Stop mixing compliments and accusations in your excuses, you suicidal prick,¡± she said, but it looked more like she yelled since she was grabbing Azcheron by the collar and shaking him. ¡°You can''t go back to the Empire now.¡±

    ¡°Why ?¡±

    ¡°Why ?¡± Erin made a grimace that spoke evidently about her stupefaction. ¡°Because, I don''t know, you''re the most wanted traitor of the moment and if they find you they''ll god-damn behead you or something ? That''s why.¡±

    ¡°Not if I behead them first !¡± he cleverly said.

    I''m the master of beheading after all. No one''s even half the man I am when it comes to beheading !

    ¡°And I''m not a traitor, I never swore loyalty to the Empire to begin with,¡± he kept on. ¡°Actually, aren''t you the traitor, in this whole thing ? Lady Verald, ex-Imperial knight.¡±

    She pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°Look. You''re famous now, and even infamous in the Empire I imagine. You know that it''s because you killed Karia. If Karia lost against you, who do you think they''ll send to kill you next ?¡±

    ¡°Roharl, of course,¡± he answered nonchalantly.

    ¡°...You''re convinced he wouldn''t even think about harming you in any way.¡±

    ¡°Honestly, I don''t know. He might very well do it. But even so, I don''t have a choice. You told me once I was lucky to have Anton as a friend, right ? Then I should at least spare him my own troubles, right !¡±

    ¡°Don''t use him as an excuse now,¡± she said, glaring at him.

    Azcheron sighed and crossed his arms against his chest. Of course, he wasn''t really feeling guilty about Anton ¨C before everything else, he was curious. Assassins and an old secret buried in draconic historical records ? Who wouldn''t be curious ! It screamed of conspiracy and grand, secret plots !

    ¡°I''m going anyway, no matter what you say or do.¡±

    ¡°I know, that''s why I''m coming too,¡± she said arrogantly, as if she had planned for this specific moment.

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°It''s the only way to make sure you don''t attract attention. You''ll listen to me and we''ll meet with Anton without having half the Imperial army coming at us.¡±

    ¡°I don''t see how two wanted persons can move stealthier than a lone one.¡±

    ¡°Because you will listen to me. Don''t, and I''ll knock you out and carry you like a potato bag. It''ll still be much more discreet than having you walking.¡±

    What Erin was suggesting amounted to a stealth mission, basically. Seeing this venture as an infiltration easily overshadowed the fact that she was treating him like a conspicuous noisy child. He pushed the insult away, now having only the amazing prospect of a stealth operation in mind.

    ¡°So we''re both going.¡± Azcheron scratched his chin. ¡°Why did you even bother to argue with me ?¡±

    ¡°Because it''s still a shit idea. I''ll clarify this whole mess right now ¨C I''m coming for your sake, meaning mine, because I don''t want you to die. Don''t make me regret it, and don''t make my task any harder than it already is.¡±

    He stared at her, thinking that she was getting better at throwing cool lines. Thinking that she was oddly altruistic, even if it was a self-interested altruism. But she had always been altruistic, putting up with Azcheron''s foolishness, and there wasn''t a truer knight than Erin, when he thought about it. In fact, he never ever paid her for her mercenary services since they spoke about it in Quarras. And she never mentioned that. As if it was never about money in the first place, as if she was following him and protecting him of her own volition. Curiosity, amusement, friendship, affection, love. It went probably through many of these things, but now it was made clear.

    ¡°Then,¡± he finally replied, failing to find anything equally cool to retort, ¡°we''ll depart tomorrow. We should take care of things here and be ready by morning.

    ¡°There''s something else.¡± She paused, looked around. ¡°Rudolph.¡±

    ¡°Did you learn anything ?¡± He knew that she had been trying to pry in the old man''s business ever since the siege.

    ¡°He only admitted that the countess Ravilna sent him here. He told me flatly that he wouldn''t say anything else.¡±

    ¡°Should we believe him ?¡±

    Erin shrugged. ¡°Rudolph''s a cryptic guy, I couldn''t tell if he was lying or not. We just know he was being paid by Ravilna even before the western expedition, and you''re the one who knows the countess better, so you should know whether it''s the kind of thing she''d do.¡±

    ¡°Well, I would say there isn''t any sort of thing she wouldn''t do, that woman. There''s no way to really know for now, so let''s just keep all this in mind, as a potential threat.¡±

    ¡°Dragons, wars, assassins, and nobles playing games. You should be glad that I''m the kind of girl that doesn''t mind action and danger. I imagine other noblewomen would have dumped you long ago, if not outright sold you to the Empire.¡±

    He simply grinned. You couldn''t possibly know how glad I am.

 52 - A story of princes II

    ¡°What''s this, you wish to learn more about poisons ? Yes, of course, for academic purposes only, I gather. Not for murder, right ! Then you''ve come to the right place. Well, the first thing you need to know really, is that you''ll probably either fail or get caught. Novices like you, you see, they always mess up the measuring. Not enough and the target ends up with a fever and maybe diarrhea. Too much and the target will start to cough blood in a very dramatic fashion in the middle of a dinner with you ¨C you''ll be the prime suspect. No, I assure you, it does happen, there''s a poison called the ''fingerpointer'', precisely because people who swallow it in large amounts ¨C always during dinner, mind you ¨C will have some bloody foam coming out of their mouth, and will use their last seconds of consciousness to point a finger to whoever they believe is the culprit. Just like in these detective novels, yes ! Haha ! So, do you want to buy it ?

    -apothecary answering a customer''s question¡±

    * * *

    Hadrias

    The Second Prince was leaning on a massive wooden table, massaging his temple with one hand and holding a small parchment in the other. That piece of paper was a message from one of the Great Sorceress''s generals.

    Whatever the contents, it should have been brought to the Emperor first, but circumstances were such that Hadrias was, at the moment, the person in charge of everything. Not in name, of course ¨C that would be high-chancellor Latrea ¨C but people were already behaving as if the Second Prince was the ruler.

    As he read through the message, he snorted. Setting aside the avalanche of apologies and grovelling, the general was basically informing him of Karia''s death at the siege of Pelirise. Which wasn''t anything new, of course. Hadrias'' spies were doing their job properly, he had been noticed of the Imperial army''s defeat as quickly as it was physically possible. But the details, of course, varied according to the sources.

    Some said an unidentified opponent suddenly appeared on the battlefield, causing chaos and confusion. Some said that the northerners dabbled in a forbidden ritual to summon a demon with a human shape. Some said that it was a mage named Azcheron, or the Saint, or the Saviour of Pelirise, depending. It wasn''t hard to figure the right answer among all the reports. The culprit did warn the Empire beforehand, after all.

    And this general here was insisting that a man appeared, introduced himself as ''Azcheron the Rahal Saint'', and engaged the sorceress in a magic battle.

    Azcheron, you damn fool. Now you''ve done it.

    Hadrias was truly disappointed. Not about Karia, of course ¨C the victory of the north was a good thing to him, even if he''d never admit it in public, because he felt like the Empire was in the wrong. About Azcheron conspicuously declaring himself an enemy of the crown, by giving out his name while blatantly taking sides and killing an emblematic figure of the Empire.

    I had plans for him. And I was right about him, he could have become a hero in no time... But now I clearly can''t befriend him. The people will put my head on a spike if I do something dumb like pardon him or absolve him of his crimes. Treason can''t be washed away so easily.

    The Empire had lost one of its heroes, and another potential hero, all at the same time. The northern cities and their lords must have been delighted though. They got rid of their worst enemy, and gained a hero of their own.

    ¡°Foolishness,¡± the prince muttered. ¡°Such foolishness...¡±

    ¡°Your highness ?¡± Leopold Verald asked from the other side of the table.

    Hadrias lifted his head to stare at the chancellor. ¡°And what about you, Leopold ? That niece of yours is now a wanted criminal. A traitor, a murderer, a deserter, even a heretic, in the eyes of the people. And there isn''t a single thing we can do. How does that make you feel ?¡±

    Leopold didn''t answer immediately and simply glared at the papers on the table. ¡°It is... not to my liking, I reckon,¡± he eventually replied.

    ¡°You were always saying how that girl would bring you trouble or shame, and I always thought these were just petty exaggerations. I see now that perhaps you were right all along.¡±

    ¡°I never expected her to turn against the Empire. I thought she was smarter than that.¡±

    ¡°Well, what''s done, is done. Now we''ll have to deal with that stain on your name. Rest assured, I shan''t alter my plans for you, my friend.¡±

    A lot of people tend not to hold responsible children for their parents'' actions. I am grateful for this state of mind, seeing the father the world gave me. But I say there are parents'' that shouldn''t be held responsible for their children''s stupidity either.

    ¡°I would perfectly understand if you felt you had to distance yourself from me and my family, your highness.¡± The chancellor''s voice was calm but there was a certain bitterness in it.

    ¡°...No. I will be needing your advice and your support, very soon. Things will get difficult from now on, Leopold.¡±

    The man nodded, and as if to answer Hadrias'' warning, someone knocked on the door. They were only expecting one type of news at the moment. He motioned for his guards to let the messenger in.

    It wasn''t a messenger or a servant ¨C it was the Imperial physician. An old man with a stereotypical baldness and a long beard. Wrinkled skin, small frame and a crooked posture. Despite his laughable appearance, he was not only a doctor at the edge of scientific research, but also one of the best healing arts user in the Empire. It was said that there wasn''t a lot of things he couldn¡¯t cure, and so the worried frown on his face already spoke of the challenge he was currently facing.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Your highness, lord chancellor. His majesty''s state is rapidly worsening. I still believed there was hope, a month ago, but now the conclusion is painfully obvious. I''m afraid it is an affliction I have no knowledge of.¡±

    ...I''m not surprised. Anything that couldn''t be identified in a month by the Palace''s doctors would stay unidentified...

    ¡°How long, do you think ?¡±

    ¡°...I cannot say exactly. Perhaps a couple of days. Perhaps hours.¡±

    Hadrias sighed loudly, as if to cover the sound of his heart beating faster with each second passing. ¡°Keep it a secret for now. The last thing we need is chaos in the Palace.¡±

    ¡°Apologies, your highness, but... your precious sister, the Third Princess, she barged into the room, and we couldn''t stop her... I believe her cries and tears have attracted attention.¡±

    Can''t she even keep her composure ? Ha, this family. Must they forever be a stain on the Empire''s history ?

    ¡°I''ll go see the Emperor,¡± Hadrias finally said.

    The prince and the chancellor left the room, followed by the physician, and walked the corridors toward the Emperor''s chambers. Servants were already running around. It seemed the news had spread widely in that short amount of time. And ¨C as it was already the case, but now it was getting more and more obvious ¨C people were already kneeling when Hadrias came within their sight.

    It made somewhat sense, of course, since his access to the throne was now unavoidable. The Emperor was dying, and the First Prince was missing. The two most dangerous pieces of information in the entire nation, and everyone in the Palace was basically aware. So now they were all trying to secure the prince''s favours before the others, but it only resulted in a pathetic gathering of sweating, grovelling beggars in fancy clothes with annoying fake smiles.

    You can''t keep a single secret in this damn place, he cursed, trying to ignore the people kneeling around him as he walked the corridors.

    Not that Hadrias'' inheritance came as a surprise to anyone here. The Emperor was old enough to allow people to think about the succession, and the First Prince never seemed to have an interest in ruling, in the first place. The succession to the throne was organized around the birth order for as long as anyone remembered, but it wasn''t unusual for younger princes to inherit the throne in place of their older siblings.

    The pretenders had the option to abandon their succession rights at any given time ¨C and it wasn''t rare either to have pretenders step down by persuading or intimidating them. Assassination was a thing, of course, but it was absurdly suspicious for a death to occur in the middle of a succession struggle. Few were those who could get away with such a deed in such a time.

    But everyone expected Alcidel to step down all by himself, and perhaps it was what happened in the end. He had been missing for a bit more than a month, and he had yet to be seen anywhere. He didn''t leave a note or a message to a servant, he simply vanished one day. An astonishing feat for one of the most important person of the Empire. Hadrias thought that it couldn''t have gotten more fishy, but then the Emperor fell sick soon after.

    ¡°What''s your take on this illness, Leopold ?¡± he asked in a low voice.

    The chancellor seemed to think for a bit, but the prince knew it was merely an act. Almost everyone already had an opinion on the matter.

    ¡°My guess would be poisoning, your highness.¡±

    Hadrias nodded. ¡°Do you believe my brother could have done it ?¡±

    Leopold''s expression darkened. ¡°I cannot say for sure. The timing is indeed suspicious, but perhaps he is being framed.¡±

    True. And I don''t really see why he''d poison our father. The old man hasn''t much left to live anyway because he is, well, old. And if there was anyone who''d gladly get rid of the Emperor, that would be me. Maybe that''s the goal ? Assassinating the Emperor and making Alcidel disappear, so that I''d have the throne to myself. Then what ?

    The culprit could either be an ally or an enemy. If it was an ally, then that was it ¨C having Hadrias crowned was the end goal. That meant it could be any of his supporters, even Leopold himself.

    But what if there''s more to it ? Will I find myself accused of assassination ? My legitimacy will be challenged. Then... getting me out of the way would allow my younger siblings to pass. But why would it be that convoluted ?

    If they poisoned my father, when he is already old, and made my brother disappear, when he already intended to withdraw himself, why can''t they simply kill me off too ? It''s not as if they couldn''t afford to raise suspicions, seeing as it''s already obvious for everyone that there''s something strange going on.

    ¡°Who would gain the most from having me stepping down from the throne...¡± he wondered rhetorically. His siblings and their backers, of course.

    Still, Leopold took a few moments, to follow Hadrias'' train of thought perhaps, before answering.

    ¡°I might be wrong, but it could be a ploy from the Ravilna house. They are backing your youngest sister, and we both know you are her only competition, after all.¡±

    Indeed, the other two don''t have enough supporters for the moment. House Latrea hasn''t declared itself for anyone yet, though they''ll probably join me, vainly hoping to retain the high-chancellery. But...

    ¡°Elana wouldn''t resort to such methods. I know her and her morals, she has much in common with me. The disdain for both the current ways of the Palace, and the vile methods used everywhere in this place.¡±

    ¡°I never said the Fifth Princess was directly involved, your highness.¡±

    ¡°...Lord Ravilna ? No... the countess ?¡± Hadrias paused. She''s the kind of woman that could do that, according to Leopold. But then again he seems to have some bias toward her. I get that she is creepy, but it''s not reason enough. I would need proof if I''m to take action.

    ¡°We need evidence,¡± he finally continued. ¡°Meanwhile, keep any suspicions you have between us, it wouldn''t do to have any more hostility between the houses.¡±

    Hadrias glanced at the Imperial physician, who bowed his head. The old healer''s loyalty was sworn to the crown, and he knew better than anyone else that the Second Prince would soon become Emperor. Surely he was on Hadrias''s side, unless he was the poisoner himself.

    It was a displeasing feeling, not knowing if he really had a single ally in the Palace. He couldn''t trust the servants, the guards, the nobles. Even Leopold, his closest friend and advisor, was a potential suspect in this succession matter.

    Disgusting self-interest, shitty plots and god-damn schemes. That''s all the people here are capable of. I wonder what I hate the most ¨C brainless, lustful imbeciles like my father, or the snickering, the grovelling and the conspiring bastards that gather around him ?

    And I''ll have to manage a country with these animals surrounding me, soon. I''m not sure I can''t do it.

    He had been doing it for the past month, in fact, but it was tiring and stressful, and that was only a glimpse of the real deal anyway.

    ¡°I''m not sure I can do it, Leopold,¡± the prince spoke his thoughts, as they arrived in front of the door. Behind it laid the ill Emperor. Behind it laid Hadrias'' future chambers.

    ¡°Are you having doubts, your highness ? Do you think you are not ready to be called your majesty ?¡±

    ¡°Precisely so. The mere thought is intimidating, really.¡±

    ¡°Good. Pardon me for saying it like that, but that simply means you still have your head. You haven''t succumbed to the claws of arrogance, or the abyss of conceit. Ruling a nation isn''t a simple task. It will ask a lot of you. It will require courage and stamina. It will challenge your wits and your morals. It will demand that you be sometimes fair, and sometimes cruel.¡± Leopold chuckled faintly, which was a rare sight. ¡°It may sound convenient, especially coming from me, but just as you cannot keep the nation from collapsing if you are evil, you cannot survive if you are only good. You have what it takes to become the ruler we need, and you have the ability to doubt yourself. In a way, admitting that you aren''t ready is the first step toward being ready. Now, your highness, do not waver, and do not flee from your duty.¡±

    Leopold Verald approached the door and put his palm on the wooden panel. He then turned to face the prince. ¡°Behind that door lays an example of what it means to fail as a ruler. We both know you won''t end up like him.¡±

    He then neared the prince, and kneeled before him. Hadrias'' guards suddenly did the same, probably spurred by the chancellor''s actions. ¡°I know it, and to prove it I have bet everything on you. The nation''s future, and my own, rest on your shoulder. You may doubt yourself all you want, your majesty, for it is the purpose of men like me to support you in your moments of hesitation.¡±

    Hadrias looked down at his feet and exhaled deeply. As he lifted his gaze back on the door, he stepped forward and reached for the handle. He''d meet his father one last time, before taking his place.

 53 - A story of princes III

    ¡°Welcome to the Thirsty Goat ! The most famous inn of the north road ! The entire Empire knows of this inn as a place of warmth, songs and delicious soup ! And, delicious ale ! Tired of camping outside, in the rain and the mud ? Here, look at our spacious rooms ! Tired of eating berries and hard-as-rock bread ? Here, have some of our special soup made of fish, potato and vinegar ! I can guarantee you that no one has ever complained about our soup ! No stomach aches, no food poisoning ! If people ever fell ill because of this soup, well, they must have been caught by... bandits, because we never heard of them, haha !

    -grandiloquent innkeeper promoting the Thirsty Goat¡±

    * * *

    The bodyguard

    Faelne looked straight forward and kept an expressionless face as she stood guard in front of the door. The creaking of the bed, the flesh smashing against flesh, the heavy breathing and the moans, such sounds coming from inside the room were all unnecessary hints regarding what her master was doing.

    He sounds quite lively, this evening...

    Faelne wasn''t disturbed, of course, and neither were the two other girls waiting outside the room with her. These things happened, regardless of the place ¨C today it was with Gilia, in an inn called the Thirsty Goat, but yesterday it was with her, on the grass still wet from the rain. Tomorrow it would be Yaelga, and then Celiane, in a tent or on the hard ground or whatever.

    The location wasn''t an issue to any of them. They had done it in worse places than in the dirt and in the mud. It was their job after all. That, and protecting the master. Of course, it was still better to do it on a bed, in an inn for instance. It was never really pleasing to feel the dirt in the cleft of her buttocks, to feel the insects crawling against her skin, to feel the cold, wet mud on her legs, but complaining was a weakling thing ! Faelne was an experienced fighter, she had seen and felt worse things during her training and her battles.

    What''s a little mud on your butt when you have witnessed hideous gashes and severed limbs, and severed some of these limbs yourself ?

    And anyway, whether they''d do it in a bed or in the grass wasn''t something they could decide. Though to a certain extent, they could predict where they''d do it, since they knew the itinerary. He liked to alternate between the two Imperial guards and the two Magic-maids as the days passed, and he went through the four girls in the same order every time, as a ritual.

    The coitus sounded like it was dragging on. It made sense, since yesterday he had been quick with her ¨C he, too, must have preferred the comfort of a bed. Not that waiting here was a bad thing. It wasn''t as if the guards were obligated to stay outside, in fact he quite liked it when it happened with more than two people.

    But they were guards and so they felt they had to do their job and keep watch. You never knew what sort of creepy fellows you could encounter in these countryside inns. What if an assassin managed to get close enough because the four guards were slacking off in the master''s bed !

    That would be the most humiliating thing ever.

    The thought of being shamed by her own incompetence must have shown on Faelne''s face, because Celiane smirked as she glanced at her. The Magic-maid wasn''t mocking Faelne or anything, of course. The four girls were sister-in-arms, comrades and teammates, there had never been bad blood between them.

    That was half of the reason why the four of them were chosen by the master for his venture : he knew there would never be discord among them. The other half was, simply, that they were the best of the best.

    And obviously, like all the women protecting him, they were sterile. You couldn''t possibly hope to serve him with the risk of pregnancy. It was already bad for a female guard to manage with her menstrual cycle, so if they also had to check for pregnancy every single time... And that was... a lot of times. He liked to do it a lot ¨C once a day was apparently enough while they were travelling, but back then at the Palace he basically spent his days doing it. Therefore Faelne, too, spent her days doing it when she wasn''t keeping watch.

    ¡°You''re lost in thoughts,¡± Celiane suddenly called out.

    Well, that was true. An improper behaviour from an elite guard !

    ¡°What were you thinking about ?¡± the Magic-maid continued, but didn''t wait for her answer. ¡°About sex, I bet. Sex with his highness.¡±

    Faelne clicked her tongue and looked sideways. ¡°So what ?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. I was just wondering how often you were thinking about that. Isn''t doing it enough for you ? Some sort of pervert you must be !¡± she said before letting a giggle out.

    Like I said, so what ! It''s better to enjoy the whole thing rather than suffer it like one of the Emperor''s slaves.

    ¡°Cut her some slack,¡± Yaelga intervened. ¡°Can you really blame her for her thoughts, when Gilia sounds like she''s having the time of her life behind that door ?¡±

    Celiane shrugged. ¡°These two are taking it way too personally. Don''t forget that your main duty isn''t to enjoy his highness'' di-...¡±

    The maid didn''t finish her sentence, and instead was staring in the direction of the stairs with suddenly wary eyes. Faelne and Yaelga turned their gaze to the stairs, ready for anything. There was a knight climbing the last steps. One damn fishy knight. Dented plate armour under a ragged cloak. No crest or anything of the sort that could help identify the stranger, since the cloak was covering most of the body, but the armour''s style at least clearly told that it was Imperial made.

    A pursuer from the Palace, maybe. But why here and now ? And if they managed to find us, they wouldn''t send such a shady knight, only one at that. Unless he''s an assassin.

    Faelne''s two comrades must have followed the same train of thought, because they were readying themselves for battle. The knight, as if catching on the guards'' hostility, threatened to unsheathe his sword, showing a few centimetres of his steel blade.

    The knight entered a silent face-off with the three women, with only the chatting sounds coming from the main hall in the first floor, and the coitus noises getting louder and louder in the room.

    He will soon climax ! We must make sure not to disturb him at this critical moment by having some carnage occurring right here. At least, not a noisy one.

    A glance to Celiane and Yaelga confirmed her that the three were of the same opinion. No screaming allowed, it''ll have to end in a silent fashion.

    Celiane can use sound magic to limit the noise, if need be, though it''s not really her specialty. She doesn''t quite do well with stealth kills.

    But a paralysing bolt on the steel plate would allow Faelne and Yaelga to effortlessly thrust their blades in the armour''s gaps. Through the slit of the visor would be the quickest, cleanest way, therefore the wisest.

    As the guards and the knight were about to indulge in a bloody, deadly struggle, someone else could be heard climbing the stairs. To Faelne''s surprise, it was a young lady ¨C she merely assumed that, seeing that the figure''s pale face had red lips and was otherwise hidden under a decorated hood, only long blonde hair flowing out.

    ¡°Eri-... Hrm, Eric, why are you standing in the middle of the way ?¡± the lady spoke, in a strange, uneasy voice. She was probably shy. ¡°Eric, you big oaf, it seems you are scaring these girls, can you not see ?¡±

    The knight let go of his sword''s handle, simply bowed his head to the three guards, and walked past them until he reached a door further back in the corridor and entered the room. Only then Faelne and Yaelga lowered their weapons.

    ¡°Forgive my friend for his rudeness, I''m sure he meant no harm.¡± the lady concluded before doing a curtsey. She then walked ¨C more like skipped, actually ¨C toward the room, and Faelne only had the time to catch a faint, mischievous smile on the girl''s face.

    Cute, she thought. Perhaps she''s a noble daughter eloping with her knight, like in those stories ?

    The reverse of Faelne''s situation, in a way. After all, she was one of the knights which the prince was eloping with.

    Speaking of the prince, it sounded like he had finished his business. Gilia''s moans had ended, in any case. Celiane was still staring in the direction of the room in which the lady and the knight were. She was probably using magic to make sure they posed no threat. A zealot, that maid was, but Faelne had to admit that it made her the most trustworthy and reliable guard of the four.

    And at least she was using scouting magic, she wasn''t one of these impulsive, hot-blooded and stupid bodyguards that would cast a magic missile at the first beggar coming within sight, out of paranoia and misplaced suspicion.

    The prince had no need for impulsive guards, after all. Detachment was an important requirement for this job. The guards had to devote themselves to their master, push aside their morals and principles, and even put their own body at his disposal. Of course, Faelne, didn''t exactly mind the body thing, so that was a plus.

    He was rather gentle with the girls, and he was even good-looking, she''d say. Sure, he''d grope here and there from time to time, and recently the dirt and the mud were also certainly small issues, but she wasn''t about to brood over these petty matters.

    Eventually, the door of the prince''s room opened. The guards bowed, though they had been forbidden from greeting him with ''your highness'' or ''prince Alcidel'' in public places, since he was supposed to stay anonymous. Things like bowing and calling him master were fine, he could then pass as a travelling noble.

    Not that there was really any need for greetings, for he had just been in the room for less than an hour. But they bowed anyway.

    ¡°Let''s have dinner,¡± Alcidel said, not bothering to ask if there had been any sort of trouble while he had been busy. He must have known that his guards would mention anything they felt they had to mention.

    The five took the stairs and went to sit in the inn''s main hall, waiting for their food. And as the guards waited, they listened. They listened to the bards, they eavesdropped on the chats, they watched the people. Alcidel still had his network of informants even though he wasn''t in the Palace anymore, but that was precisely the issue. It wasn''t practical at all to meet with the spies while the prince was travelling north, so the maid''s sound magic was welcome to get wind of the rumours and whatnot in the meantime.

    And of course, they were a couple of hot topics that came back again and again recently. The news of the northern campaign, for instance. Oh, that thing was a massive mess. Angry people shouting angrily at other angry people, everyone angrily debating about warfare, politics, and fancying themselves a general or a strategist as they tried to explain and justify why they lost a war impossible to lose. Or, in the worst case, trying to explain why they didn''t really lose the war. Amusing things like propaganda or conspiracies were thrown in the debates.

    But the prince and his escort knew the truth, for the spies always managed to send the important information. Karia indeed lost in a unforeseen clash against an enemy mage, her army was thrown in confusion and chaos, suffering heavy losses, and so the Empire was suddenly defeated in a single day.

    It was absurd, but it was the truth.

    Another fashionable debate these days revolved around the Imperial Palace. Whispers about the Emperor''s health and the Imperial family''s struggle for succession. That, indeed, was also something the prince and his guards would be entirely aware of.

    After all, Faelne herself suspected her prince to be the cause of the Emperor''s illness. Why would he poison his own father only to leave and let his younger brother inherit the throne, she didn''t know ¨C but his decision to suddenly leave the Palace without prior notice to anyone, that was quite suspicious.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Whether he actually did it or not, it wasn''t as if Faelne would stop serving him. She had pledged her life to him. She''d give her life for him, even if he were to become the most evil and disgusting person in the world.

    Someone came to their table, bringing them five bowls of soup. Faelne sniffed it, and by the smell alone she knew this thing was a disease in the form of a soup. She observed with confusion as Celiane used magic to make the soup boil, and then watched with horror as the maid gulped the whole bowl at once, barely hiding a grimace once she was done. Could it be that she hoped for the liquid to be safe once boiled ? Stupid woman.

    Now, now, where''s the zealot always speaking about duty and saying how protecting the prince is our most important task ? How the hell are you going to protect anyone if that soup of diseases ends up poisoning you !?

    The hall became suddenly very loud ¨C it was already loud, that was to say that it became deafeningly loud ¨C and cheers, applauses and unbearable bellowing occurred as the bard just finished a song about Roharl and one of his dragon-slaying episodes. It was one of Roharl''s most famous stories, the one in which he battled against four dragons, four ! And won the fight unharmed ! Sure, the songs embellished things, for instance they rarely dared to mention how the dragons were merely babies. But then again, even these baby dragons were already bigger than an ox and older than the regular gramps.

    Well, it was both a popular story and an amazing feat, in any case.

    ¡°And now, miladies, milords, a darker, sadder song. A tribute to our beloved Great Sorceress, who perished at the hand of heretic demons and their ignoble servant, Azcheron !.¡±

    The hall became silent, a tense and gloomy atmosphere setting in almost instantaneously. A woman was crying in a corner. The song hasn''t even begun, you damn crybaby !

    ¡°She who braved the dangers of the heretic north,

    Carrying on her shoulders all our hopes and our dreams,

    Leading her proud army, she would only go forth,

    Till she reached Pelirise, and the demons'' vile schemes.¡±

    The bard plucked a few strings of his harp, and a flutist began to play a atrociously melodramatic tune.

    ¡°The battle she''d have won, were it not, alas, for...

    A forbidden magic, a venomous dark spell !

    Some abomination, an hideous eyesore !

    That cruel, evil mage, monster in human shell,

    Prayed and called out to those unfathomable gods.

    The power to vanquish our beloved hero,

    Was bestowed upon him, and against all the odds...

    Azcheron killed our light, our shining inferno !¡±

    Screams and hysteric yells. What, the demon scum, they dared murder the general, the sorceress, the hero of flames ! As if the room couldn''t get any louder, children started to cry like animals having their throats cut.

    Prince Alcidel didn''t react so outrageously when he heard the news from his spies. He simply shrugged and said that it was to be expected ¨C that he had actually been waiting for the Saint to face the Great Sorceress Karia at some point, and that he knew Azcheron would come out victorious.

    A question remained in Faelne''s mind. How and when did Alcidel do the necessary research about the Saint, to the point where he''d be able to judge of his ability and even know he''d go in the north ? Even chancellor Varymiel took time to figure out the Saint''s destination after that scandalous audience.

    ¡°Behold, citizens of the mighty Empire !

    Azcheron is his name, the name of great evil !

    The sorceress watches, from the realm of fire,

    her soul will not find rest while this Azcheron lives !¡±

    What started as a sad ballad was now an invitation to hunt down the man. The rest of the song couldn¡¯t be heard, for the people in the hall were now having an insult contest, in addition to the everlasting screaming. Names and curses Faelne had never thought of reached her ears. She remembered what little she saw of the Saint during the audience, and she almost chuckled as she imagined his reaction to some of these insults.

    * * *

    The next day, they left the inn and continued riding north. The Free Cities weren''t their destination, of course not. Bad time for Imperial people to go there.

    In the evening, they made camp on the roadside. Yaelga was cleaning herself for the prince''s pleasure time tonight, but while he usually liked to watch this moment, right now he was staring in the distance, in the forest and the obscurity. He then suddenly got up and walked away from the camp, toward the forest. The guards followed, and once inside the forest he started to look around, as if he was searching for something. Or someone.

    A branch cracked, and theatrically, a man came from behind a tree. A knight wearing a black-painted armour. Alcidel didn''t seem wary of him, but then again, what this meeting was about was made obvious by the prince''s sudden decision to ride away from the road in some quiet place where people wouldn''t go. He only did that sort of things when he had to meet his spies.

    The knight was a spy.

    He took of his helmet, revealing a middle-aged face, badly shaven. ¡°You highness,¡± he said, bowing.

    ¡°Now that''s a surprise, Rudolph. I wasn''t expecting to hear from you so soon. Weren''t you supposed to stay in the north and keep an eye on the Saint, acting like his friend ?¡±

    ¡°Apologies, my prince, but I am still doing so, only I resigned myself to watching from afar. Not even two days passed after Karia''s defeat when he suddenly decided to return to the capital. I couldn''t very well tag along, it would have raised even more suspicions.¡±

    ¡°...''Even more'' suspicions, you say ?¡±

    ¡°The Saint and the lady Verald are indeed wary of me. They also happen to know I am moving on the countess'' orders, so... there is that complication...¡±

    Alcidel frowned, which was a rare sight. He was usually so nonchalant, or at least tried his best to appear nonchalant ¨C Faelne and his most trusted guards knew very well that the prince wasn''t the scatterbrain he liked to pass himself for. Well, not always.

    ¡°They happen to know about that ? And how, I wonder, did they happen to know that ?¡±

    Rudolph shrugged. ¡°I told them.¡±

    Alcidel''s frown was now hidden by his hand, as he was pinching the bridge of his nose. ¡°I was thinking about being grateful to the countess Ravilna for lending me a capable man like you, but now I see she also chooses her subordinates according to those whims of hers...¡±

    ¡°There''s no need to worry. It would have been even more suspicious if I had tried to keep silent. What I told them is inconsequential. They already knew I was working for the countess, and I certainly didn''t mention that her orders were to play the spy for you. And by confessing that way, I got rid of my tiny guilt.¡±

    ¡°Your guilt is the last thing I care about... If they find out that you also work for me, they''ll link me to the countess.¡± the prince grumbled.

    This whole thing feels overly convoluted. I didn''t know about all that ! Why would the prince work together with the Ravilna house ? They''re supposed to back the Fifth Princess...

    Once again, Faelne must have been making a peculiar expression, because Celiane gave her a mocking look that felt like she was saying ''you suck at politics, don''t even bother with this conversation'' or something like that.

    ¡°Do you at least know why they''d want to return the the capital now ?¡± the prince inquired, before apparently realizing something. ¡°Oh, never mind,¡± he eventually said as if he remembered the biggest blunder he made in his entire life. ¡°Still, they won''t exactly be welcomed. People will hunt them down as soon as they find them. You may have to do more than simply watching.¡±

    Rudolph scoffed. ¡°Yet I think they''re doing pretty well for now, without my help. You do realize that I''m currently following them, and that this meeting with your highness is purely coincidental. They are about a day ahead of me, it''s very likely you passed them without even recognizing them.¡±

    Alcidel glanced at his guards, silently questioning if they had seen anything. He only got shaking heads as an answer.

    The Saint wasn''t in the hall back then, of that I''m sure. He''d have surely blown up the whole inn, had he heard what was being said about him !

    ¡°Well, I don''t intend to meet with the Saint, and I don''t intend to let him meet with me either. He''d probably kill me or something, to bring more attention upon him,¡± the prince said jokingly. Was it a joke, though ?

    Gilia stepped in. ¡°If I may ask, your highness, about the reason of their return ? I believe you know of it.¡± She must have noticed the expression and the tone of frustration he had earlier.

    ¡°I may or may not have sent assassins to end the life of some of his acquaintances. The venture may or may not have partly failed, and one of his friends may or may not have witnessed the whole thing.¡±

    ¡°The Academy thing, I see. Had you sent me instead of these amateurs, I would not have failed you, my prince,¡± Gilia humbly concluded before bowing.

    ¡°Doesn''t matter now.¡± He turned to Rudolph. ¡°Keep watching the Saint. If anything out of the ordinary happens, well, you know, tell me.¡±

    As they left Rudolph with his tree, and walked back to their camp, Faelne couldn''t resist asking the prince.

    ¡°Your highness, what does ''anything out of the ordinary'' means ? We are talking about the Saint, so...¡±

    Alcidel sighed. ¡°...Ha, I don''t know. That''s the point of having someone resourceful like Rudolph watching him. Since they already know each other, he can interact with him and help him if necessary, he can do anything to become his friend, really. Something that my own spies can''t do without having that Verald woman stabbing them wth her sword. I have no idea how helpful he was during the battle with Karia, of if he did his job at all, but well...¡±

    ¡°Why would you want him to befriend the Saint ?¡±

    ¡°Because then I can learn if the damn guy is planning to destroy the Empire or something like that. I have my reasons to think he''d do so. The assassination thing at the Academy was because he was already very close to ruining all the good work I put into prepping my brother for the throne. ¡±

    ¡°Care to explain, your highness ?¡± Celiane wondered.

    ¡°Hm. I guess I owe you that for following me around... Well, the reason''s simple ! Being the Emperor is a hassle. I don''t like hassles. I don''t want to end up like my father either. So it''s easier to have my brother do that thing. He''ll make a good ruler anyway, so that''s a plus.¡±

    ¡°Not that, your highness. We already know you''re a sleazy, lazy bum. About the Saint ?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well, it''s a long story. You see, all this time I spent in these awful archives back at the Palace, it was to confirm that everything would work out perfectly. I studied laws and law history, to make sure that there wouldn''t be any sort of dumb rule that would force me to sit on the throne. And I found one ! The horror. Can you imagine ?¡±

    ¡°I''m sure we can, your highness. No one in their right mind would want to see you on the throne.¡±

    ¡°You agree, then. So I looked into it. It was some very old thing mentioning a time when only death could relieve a prince from the succession struggle. Apparently it was the Second Emperor who repealed this law for some unknown reason. I''d be grateful for that, if only it had been a legit thing. Turns out he had no right to do that, but people apparently allowed him to do whatever he wanted, and just let that pass while he ruled. Then they forgot about it, or something of the sort. Still, records of this whole mess exist, and if people would only hear about it, well, they''d gladly follow the true law and assassinate me promptly to make way for my brother, just in case they felt he needed even more legitimacy. And I don''t want to die, obviously.¡±

    ¡°Can you get to the point, your highness ?¡± Celiane hurried him. ¡°Without the unnecessary information, please.¡±

    ¡°Ha ! You should watch your tongue, or else I''ll stick mine between your legs, tonight instead of tomorrow. Fine, so... So I burnt the book mentioning that law, of course. But then I figured, there must have been others ! And you know, I''m friends with the countess Ravilna, and by the way, she has taken quite the interest in Azcheron, I must say. How inept the whole thing is, I still can''t believe it. She didn''t even need to spy on him, she only had to hear it from her good friend Hector Talir, who himself heard it from the Academy''s librarian ! She''s friends with everyone, that woman... Well, when I say that I''m friends with her, and that she has a lot of friends, in truth no one, especially not me, is friends with her. You can''t trust her, that''s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Your highness, the point. This legendary thing, which we believe to be lost amidst the vast lands of your lengthy explanation... We would very much like to hear it.¡±

    ¡°...So, I heard from Ravilna that some scholars were researching something in ancient books about the Empire''s history. I turned green when I learned that one of the books they borrowed from the library was exactly the one I found in the Palace''s archives, only in Dragon tongue. It got even worse when I learned that this search was linked to Azcheron. Had he stumbled upon this critical piece of information, he would have made my life a living hell. So I asked a couple of maids to go and assassinate those scholars once we had left the Palace, away from all possible suspicions, haha !¡±

    Why does he sound so excited ? Where''s his usual aloofness ? It''s very out of character.

    ¡°Your highness sounds like a villain confessing his evil plan,¡± Yaelga admitted.

    ¡°Yeah, a great villain I am, since the evil plan failed. They didn''t even destroy the book, and I got only one of the scholars, but now it''ll attract too much attention if I make another attempt. We can''t have half the country looking at that damn book for being the cause of two assassination attempts. I''d be doomed.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps I''ve missed something, but I don''t see why that would make you think that Azcheron wants to... destroy the Empire, or force you to sit on the throne ¨C but that''s the same thing. He seems to have interest in dragons, perhaps he was just researching about them. I think you may have jumped to an early conclusion, your highness.¡±

    ¡°Why, you ask... He is friends with the countess Ravilna, isn''t that reason enough ? As soon as she told me about him, right before his expedition in the west, I knew he was trouble. She was pleased ! Only people without a soul can please Beatrice Ravilna. That''s why I asked her to send someone to keep an eye on the Saint, when she also told me he was riding north.¡±

    Didn''t you just say that no one was her friend ? And why would you ask HER to spy on the Saint when you clearly don''t even trust her !? Aren''t you trying too hard to involve her in everything ? Do you like her or do you hate her, which is it ?

    Faelne realized something else, much more important. ¡°Then, your highness, are you telling us that we left the Palace only because of your petty assassination attempt ? Can we go back now ? I like comfy beds more.¡±

    ¡°Huh. We can''t go back, obviously. Not until Hadrias is crowned anyway. It shouldn''t be long, since the Emperor is sick and dying.¡±

    She deemed the moment right for the daring question. ¡°Forgive me, but... Did you poison the Emperor ?¡±

    Alcidel stared at her. ¡°What do you think, Faelne ?¡±

    ¡°I do not know, your highness. That''s why I''m asking.¡±

    ¡°Does it matter if I poisoned my father ? The result is the same, whether he dies of old age or something else. Hadrias will become Emperor.¡±

    His tone was suddenly back to something very cold and distant, yet nonchalant. Indifferent would be the word. Like the usual Alcidel.

    ¡°And why can''t we simply assassinate the Saint, your highness ?¡± Gilia asked, probably thinking she''d be up for the job.

    ¡°Now here''s a strange idea !¡± he said, smiling as if he was revelling in his own inconsistencies. There wasn''t really any way to know when he was lying and when he was saying the truth, but the worst was when he was purposely being cryptic.

    Truly, of Alcidel and Azcheron, Faelne wasn''t sure which one posed the greatest threat to the Empire.

 54 - A story of princes IV

    ¡°Yeah, sometimes we have to do a search, of course. And it''s not always easy being a guard and serving at the city gates. You got all sorts of lads comin'' and goin''. Gotta clench those teeth when you''re on duty, and this horrible guy comes in, covered in piss, shit and pus and whatever the hell the gods thought it''d be fun to have him afflicted of, and your captain looks at you like, yeah, body search for him, you do it. We keep a stern face ''cause that''s our job, you know, looking intimidating and stuff. You just have to hope that every time you stop a fishy fellow, he''s not some madman or evil knight that''ll pull out a blade from under his cloak. Of course, there are brighter moments. When some merchant is willing to pay, err... a generous tax, only asking that we look the other way. Or when there''s a nice, hot lady coming through. You won''t find anyone here that doesn''t love that body searching thing, when it''s a lady we''re searching.

    -guard¡±

    * * *

    Eric, the manly knight

    ¡°Ye two lovebirds goin'' back to the capital, eh ?¡± a man called out from the seat of his wagon, pulling the reins of his horse to slow it down.

    ...What ? Who''re you ?

    Erin looked around. Right now they were alone on the road ¨C only Azcheron, herself, and that man on his wagon. They were making a short pause to eat and were about to resume their trip. They were close to the capital, and so they had been encountering more and more people as they approached. Though until now, no one bothered to speak to them. She observed the stranger.

    He was an old guy with a very unhealthy number of missing teeth, but who otherwise gave Erin a good vibe.

    ¡°We are indeed, good man, and what about you ?¡± she answered, taking a rough-sounding voice as she had been doing for the past months whenever she had to speak to someone.

    The helmet helped hiding whatever femininity remained in her voice, and more importantly, her face. Couldn''t hide the femininity of her face, and she didn''t really feel like shaving her head or resorting to some other similar subterfuge.

    Azcheron strictly forbade that she cut her hair anyway. Saying it was pretty and things of the sort. What a smooth talker ! Or so she thought at first, since Azcheron complimenting her was a rare sight. But apparently he was very serious, so she pushed aside the hair-shaving idea and simply wore her helm as often as she could.

    ¡°So does I, so does I...¡± The man got off his wagon and walked to his horse. ¡°Good old Brutus ''ere ''ll take me ''ere in no time,¡± he said, patting the beast''s head. ¡°Why don''t we go together, me an'' ye two ? Got nice ale an'' nice salted meat ''ight ''ere.¡±

    Erin and Azcheron looked at each other. The capital was only half a day away now, and they would rather avoid people and a potential reveal of their identities.

    ¡°What do you mean by ''lovebirds'', by the way ?¡± Azcheron asked, in his most feminine voice ¨C the best he could do was a high-pitched haughty voice.

    ¡°Ha ! ''Tis obvious just by looking ! A lone knight eloping with his young lady, who''s hiding her face in fear of being recognized !¡±

    Azcheron smiled wryly. ¡°You... are a sharp man, err ?¡±

    ¡°Me names'' Brutos, the ale-seller ! Best ale in the Empire, it''s Brutos ! Even the Thirsty Goat buys Brutos'' ale !¡±

    ¡°Ah. I see. Brutos... and your horse, Brutus. A duo worthy of respect and renown, no doubt,¡± the Saint replied in his less mocking voice. Which was exactly the same as before, high-pitched and haughty.

    ¡°Thank you for sayin'' so, fair lady, har har ! ''Ere, take me hands, get a nice seat on the wagon,¡± he said merrily, offering his hand to help Azcheron getting on.

    So what, are we going with him then ? I know we didn''t meet any trouble during our journey back, but that''s not a reason to start slacking off and stop being wary...

    Perhaps feeling Erin''s hesitation, Azcheron turned around, showing his back to Brutos, and winked at her. The wink, of course, coming from Azcheron, was harbinger of many undesirable things, for instance chaos, evil plots and an overall unnecessary trouble-attracting behaviour.

    ¡°So, what''s ye two''s names ?¡±

    ¡°This is Eric, and I am... Azina. You understand why we can''t show our faces, so you won''t mind if we keep things as they are, I gather ?¡±

    ¡°Ha, don''t mind me ! Brutos isn''t one to break apart some younglings'' secret love ! Keep hiding, I say, keep hiding ! Har har.¡±

    * * *

    The capital finally came within sight. They had been away for six months, and while the city itself hadn''t changed a bit, Erin immediately noticed that something was different when they neared the north gate.

    People ¨C lots of them. People on foot, on horses, on carriages and wagons, all kinds of commoners, merchants, even nobles. Waiting in line, waiting to enter, or simply waiting around the gates while putting up tents and stuff, as if they were camping here.

    ¡°Is there some event happening in the capital ?¡± Azcheron wondered, seeing the scene.

    ¡°Hm ? Ye haven''t heard, milady ? They gunna crown the new Emperor.¡±

    Erin frowned. ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°Ye see, his previous majesty died, may he rest in peace.¡±

    ¡°Who''s going to be the next Emperor then ? Prince Hadrias, I gather.¡±

    ¡°Right on the mark, milady. Brutos though ye two were goin'' back ''cause of that. Why have ye come, if not for his highness'' crownin'' ?¡±

    ¡°Oh...¡± Azcheron smiled faintly. ¡°To cultivate my own sprightliness.¡±

    ¡°Ha ! Looking for entertainment, eh ? Didn''t ye got enough of that while ye were alone ?¡± Brutos merrily said, pocking Erin with his elbow, while Azcheron looked at him with strange eyes.

    It can''t be that he''s getting embarrassed by that oaf''s jokes, right ? Hm.

    Since Brutos seemed to be running out of stupid jokes, they approached the gates. Soon enough they saw guards patrolling the area, and people were talking about a sort of checkpoint at the gates. Taxes and stuff. Erin, Azcheron and Brutos got in line like everyone else, and it advanced slowly, but steadily. Occasionally, people were getting refused entry, and were thrown away if they got a bit too unhappy about the guards'' decision.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    As they came closer to the gates, Erin noticed that the guards were conducting a search. And it''s not the ''hey, I got nothing fishy in my wagon, here, take five coins for your hard work, wink'' kind of search, she realized as she saw one suspicious fellow trying to hand over a small bag of clinking metal to a guard, only to get punched in the face and taken away for further questioning.

    Erin and Azcheron looked at each other. No way the guards would let them enter without at least revealing their faces. And people were already singing very descriptive songs about the Saint and the Verald traitor''s appearances. The general opinion was now that Azcheron had a shameful, feminine figure, and the lack of manhood that came with it, while supposedly Erin was a beast in woman''s clothing, so hideously disfigured that it was unbearable to the onlooker''s eye.

    As accurate as it may or may not have been, it would be enough to get them into trouble. Azcheron was somewhat girlish-looking with his hair, and Erin was indeed scarred.

    ¡°Come,¡± Azcheron whispered, grabbing Erin''s wrist. Probably thinking it was wiser to come up with another way.

    ¡°What about Brutos ?¡± she muttered back, glancing at the ale-seller who was chatting with some old guy, a fellow ale-seller, probably.

    ¡°I can''t trust him,¡± he said flatly while they disappeared out of Brutos'' sight.

    Erin sighed. ¡°You can''t, or you don''t want to ?¡±

    ¡°He''s a spy,¡± he retorted seriously.

    Oh, come on. Aren''t you trying a bit too hard to make this whole conspiracy thing happening ?

    ¡°Let''s get away from here first,¡± Azcheron continued.

    They walked back the line of waiting people ¨C some curious looks fell upon them, surely thinking that the guards refused that they entered the city. Some worried wife asked her husband how they''d manage to get through the gates if such a perfectly respectable lady and his knight were denied passage.

    Once they got away from the camp, in some small woods not far from it, they finally stopped.

    ¡°Well, explain,¡± Erin said as she sat on a tree stump.

    ¡°Two things,¡± Azcheron exclaimed confidently, raising two fingers to her face. ¡°First, we need to interrogate and kill Brutos. Secondly, I decided that we won''t enter the capital after all.¡± Seeing her confused and annoyed face, he carried on before she could insult him. ¡°Allow me to enlighten you.¡±

    ¡°Yes, do so. Enlighten the hell out of me, because I won''t easily accept that I just travelled for three months, only to kill some peasant and leave.¡±

    ¡°No need for grumpiness, dearest Erin. If you keep frowning and glaring at me, your face will get stuck that way and then you''ll really become the beast-woman they speak of in their ballads.¡±

    I''m not a beast, she complained in her mind. She gave up the verbal joust and silently motioned for Azcheron to explain his miraculous thoughts.

    ¡°Brutos is a spy. I had my suspicions when he first greeted us, but now I''m convinced of it. He asked us if we were going back to the capital when we met him. As if he already knew we were returning.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, but maybe he only assumed we were from the capital.¡±

    Actually, he said he thought we were returning for the crowning of the new Emperor.

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°I know, that wasn''t enough to prove it, that''s why I agreed to go with him. To check if there was more to him.¡±

    ¡°You acted on a whim, then,¡± she said, shrugging.

    ¡°A calculated decision. And I was right, in the end.¡±

    ¡°How so ?¡±

    ¡°He knows what sprightliness means ! Ever met an ale merchant knowing such words ? Seems to me like he''s fairly educated for a peasant. He took my bait and blew his cover,¡± the Saint said with a proud smile.

    ¡°Okay, why not,¡± she said without really believing it. ¡°And ?¡±

    ¡°And what ?¡±

    Erin pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°...That''s all ?¡±

    ¡°Hm ? It''s good enough evidence. And, seriously... Brutos and Brutus ? It''s so stupid, that can''t be real. Evidence, I tell you.¡±

    ¡°No... It''s a convenient twist of logic, nothing more.¡±

    You really have to convince yourself that there''s some kind of plot going on, do you ? Trying to see spies everywhere and stuff.

    ¡°Let''s put this aside for the moment,¡± she continued, while in truth hoping not to ever come back to this topic. ¡°The other matter.¡±

    ¡°Yes, yes, indeed. I was thinking that meeting with Anton in the capital would be unwise and tedious. There''s a lot of guards it seems, and more importantly, I don''t think we''ll find him so easily.¡±

    ¡°Because...¡± She paused for a moment. ¡°You believe he''s hiding ?¡±

    ¡°I would say so. Whoever sent assassins to the Academy obviously doesn''t care much about appearances, decency or laws, and wouldn''t mind executing people in broad daylight, be it peasants or famous mages. Makes me think it may very well come from the Palace.¡±

    ¡°It''s like a trend, eh. Palace plotters sending assassins to silence annoying magicians.¡±

    ¡°Ha ! Please understand that I am always the cause. This time it was because of the search about my clan''s past. It''s all linked to me,¡± he said proudly.

    ¡°Why are you bragging about it... Whatever, what do we do then ?¡±

    ¡°We send a message, of course !¡±

    She stared at him, as she noticed the faint, but unmistakable air of plotting on his face. An ignoble idea must have taken root in his mind, and it became suddenly very urgent to learn of it, as to prepare a countermeasure.

    ¡°I''ll not argue, it''s an extraordinary, wonderful idea, but... what kind of message ?¡± she wondered, trying to sound as unsuspecting as she could.

    He showed an awful smile and began to speak faster. ¡°Nothing too extravagant, though it has to be something that will be noticed by Anton wherever he is, but also something that him alone could understand who it''s coming from in case he''s being watched, so I''m thinking of casting flashy spell he''ll know that only I could-¡±

    ¡°Azcheron,¡± she interrupted him flatly.

    ¡°Mmh ? You look rather displeased. What''s the matter, dearest Erin ?¡±

    ¡°You can''t say ''nothing too extravagant'' and ''flashy spell'' in the same sentence. See, this is the sort of thing that makes me want to pull your own teeth out. When you''re clearly, blatantly lying to me, and not even caring about exposing your own lies yourself. It''ll be a flashy and dangerous spell like the one that destroyed half of Pelirise.¡±

    ¡°Ah. You concerns are duly noted.¡±

    ...And apparently that''s it. Duly noted, then conveniently pushed aside, like always.

    ¡°However,¡± he added as if to confirm Erin''s thoughts, ¡°you have nothing to worry about this time. ''Tis a spell I already tried out, so all is under control this time.¡±

    She raised a finger. ¡°This time, you said.¡±

    ¡°Yes, this time.¡±

    ¡°Implying, it wasn''t under control the first time.¡±

    Azcheron shrugged. ¡°No, it wasn''t.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I see. It wasn''t, eh ? Right. Isn''t that the case for every single damn spell you try ?¡±

    ¡°Ha ha ! Now, now, Erin, magic is something naturally unstable, you cannot expect even the finest magician to nail every single spell by the first cast !¡±

    Azcheron walked away, only glancing back once he noticed Erin wasn''t following him. He waved for her to come, and even if she really didn''t want to, she had no choice. She had to make sure he wouldn''t create some catastrophe. She got to her feet and followed him.

    They walked for a bit, until they reached a large, empty hill where, at least, there wouldn''t be any human casualty.

    ¡°I understand your fear,¡± he suddenly said as he crouched and started to do something with the dirt. ¡°I wasn''t planning to do the kind of magic that you saw at Pelirise. I told you, didn''t I ?¡±

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°That it had to be something Anton would know only I could do. I can''t very well use the same magic that killed Karia, right ? Everyone would know of the Saint''s presence at the gates of the capital, after all.¡±

    ¡°True enough.¡± Curious, she neared Azcheron to see what he was doing. Some sort of magic circle, she realized.

    Memories of a certain nightmarish summoning surfaced. That was the only time she had witnessed a magic circle being activated, but surely there were other spells that used this technology.

    ¡°Actually, this spell is harmless. I confirmed it after the blunder of the first attempt.¡±

    Harmless ? Then it couldn''t be the draconic summoning. These damn creatures couldn''t possibly be harmless. Erin sighed in relief.

    ¡°Okay, I think it goes like that, if I remember well.¡± And Azcheron began to chant in Dragon tongue.

    Another draconic spell ? Please, don''t...

    Then a feeling of dread crept up slowly as she seemed to recall this specific incantation. Yes, she unmistakably heard it once. Then, it came back to her.

    As the Saint finished his chanting of eerie sounds, Erin had only one word in mind.

    NO NO NO NO NO NO NO !

    The sound of her own internal screaming was soon overwhelmed by the deafening flapping and screeching of a thousand hell bats, flowing out of the magic circle toward the capital.

    Amidst the horrible situation and the chaotic noise, she could have sworn she heard Azcheron laughing like a maniac.

    They didn''t need to wait long before another sound was mixed in the whole mess. The sound of bells, of soldiers gathering their gear, of captains yelling orders, of citizens crying in panic.

    ¡°Nothing like the capital believing they''re under attack because of nightmare bats, to let Anton know of our arrival !¡±

 55 - A story of princes V

    ¡°I''m the bell-ringer. My job, as the title implies, is to ring the bell. I''ve been ringing the bell for ninety-eight years ! Don''t laugh. It''s an important job, you know ? When the capital is in danger, there I am, ringing the bell. When the Empire is at war and a siege is about to befall the city, there I am, ringing the bell. When there''s a fire, a dragon attack, a dark lord trying to breach the walls... There I am. Ringing the bell, like always. What ? I''m sorry, I can''t hear you very well. Old age, poor ears. Hah ! Got you ! Who do you think I am, some random oaf ? I''m the bloody Imperial bell-ringer ! I know sound magic, lad, and I use it whenever I ring this damn thing. How else could I not be deaf after all this time ?

    -The Imperial bell-ringer¡±

    * * *

    Anton

    ¡°Why are the bells ringing ?¡±

    Anton looked in Tania''s direction, not knowing if it really was a question worth answering. The panic outside would soon be enough of an answer. She was young after all, she may have heard of it, but it wouldn''t be a surprise if it was something new to her. She was from that generation born in peaceful times.

    No one expected the capital to be under attack in these times, especially not in such an unforeseen fashion. Sure, the Empire attacked other nations, like the northern cities, but it was uncommon for the opposite to happen. Too many fortresses along the way to allow enemies to reach the capital unnoticed.

    Only twice in his lifetime had Anton heard the capital''s bells. None of these times were a sudden occurrence, it was always expected, because spies, diplomates and sentinels would do their job. Though apparently that wasn''t the case today.

    What is the meaning of this ? There''s no battle scheduled, no army coming here, nothing of the sort, or I would''ve heard of it ! I need to be told about these things, I''m the god-damn Lord of the Storm, did they forget about that !?

    He gazed at Tania and decided to reply nonetheless, as an elder trying to reassure a youngster.

    ¡°It''s to inform the citizens that there is a threat at the capital''s gates. Usually an army, or a horde of monsters.¡±

    He could see how inefficient his reassuring answer was just by looking at the maid''s frightened expression.

    ¡°But not this time,¡± he hurriedly added. ¡°It''s nothing worth worrying about, I guarantee you. Armies and monsters don''t simply show up without warning, it''s probably a fire or something like that. Nothing a bunch of water mages can''t handle.¡±

    Whether it really was a mundane fire or something more dangerous, he had no idea. A fire was bad enough, but it was still preferable to whatever else could cause the bells to ring.

    He neared the window to look down at the street. From the fifth floor of the Farril mansion, where he had been taking refuge with Tania, he could see people running in the streets. Instinctively, he glanced at the direction they were coming from, and saw it.

    Flowing from beyond the walls, a black cloud.

    A cloud of things.

    The things.

    He almost had a heart attack, as a past trauma surfaced back in his mind. Then some gears broke inside Anton''s brain, allowing his vulgarity to show its nose, letting out a spray of indecency.

    ¡°This shitty ball-sucking bag of liquid crap...¡±

    ...I will gouge your eyes out if I find you, brat. WHEN I find you.

    While the people in the streets kept running and screaming, hell-bats ! Run for your lives ! Hell bats are attacking the city !, Anton clenched his teeth to prevent further insulting to come out of his mouth. He was known for his witty sarcasm and whatnot, it wouldn''t do for people like his maid and the Farril family to learn that he was not above raging, fuming insults, like the rest of the weak and mortal humans.

    His eyes met Tania''s, and he understood that she, too, could hear the panicking and crying coming from the outside. It didn''t seem to do well for her sanity, so he attempted to trigger another elderly reassuring moment.

    ¡°Don''t worry, Tania, it''s just hell bats. Just hell bats, all is fine. Quite the scary bunch at first, but pretty much harmless.¡±

    Or so I hope.

    She seemed to be calming down, or at least tried to do so. Anton''s words were always eloquent, trustworthy and impactful, as these traits were one of the major requirement for being a professor at the Academy. The other main condition was to possess inhuman patience and composure. That, or high-placed connections, good enough for getting away with the murder of stupid students.

    Anton had connections, but prided himself in his composure ¨C another reason he couldn''t afford to burst out in anger like that. Only Azcheron could cause that so easily.

    Since the maid wasn''t looking like she was about to puke on herself anymore, he could now move on to the next important matter. ¡°Well ! In any case...¡±

    ¡°Are you leaving ?¡± she wondered as he walked at an angry pace toward the door.

    He stopped briefly to flash a fake smile. ¡°Just going out for a bit. Putting a stop to this hell bat nonsense and stuff,¡± he said in a low voice, before continuing in a more cheerful tone. ¡°I''ll be late for dinner, tell that to lord Farril, will you ?¡±

    The Farril family had been kind enough to house Anton and Tania ¨C and also Nathaniel ¨C ever since the assassination attempt at the Academy, so it wouldn''t do to spit on etiquette and fail to show up at dinner without notice.

    He grabbed his coat and stepped out. It took Anton a good hour of dodging frightened people and avoiding mad horses, before reaching the east gate. He couldn''t very well exit the capital through the north gate, not right now. The old mage took advantage of the panic to slip out, not really feeling guilty about using magic to cause a commotion in order to distract the guards'' attention.

    Someone else is already causing a much larger commotion, so...

    From here on, it was another few hours of travel from the east gate to the north gate, away from the sight of the sentinels. The last thing Anton wanted was to be mistaken for the source of the draconic summoning. He went through the woods and used the bits of camouflage magic he knew to enhance his stealth, like in the old days.

    Never knew how Roharl did his invisibility magic, but darkening the space around you in a forest works well enough for such a situation.

    It was already night when Anton arrived at the place of the incident. He watched from afar, of course, since any one who would try to approach the hill where the magic circle was would immediately get shot down by an archer or a mage. There must have been a line of defence of some kind, with elite forces waiting for the perpetrator to show up.

    I don''t know what they''re expecting. As if any sane person would come back to the scene of their crime, especially when the entire capital is aware of said crime. But then again, sane people usually don''t summon nightmare bats, so...

    And Azcheron could certainly consider showing up amidst all the mess he caused. Anton had to find him before that happened.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The scholar was hiding behind a tree, glimpsing at the hill and looking for clues. The Saint was nowhere to be seen, as expected, and it was difficult to see anything at all. He had to survey the area with a night vision spell. Even with that magic, he could hardly see the bats in the dark sky now, but the screeching was still here. That alone was enough to remind him and everyone else that the abominations were still flying above the capital.

    Let me see... If I was him, I''d probably wait in a place from where I could watch and appreciate the spectacle I just caused.

    There wasn''t really any sort of hill from which one could look down on the capital, and it would be too obvious anyway. There was, however, a small wood not far from here, like the one Anton was hiding in.

    That would be worth checking.

    * * *

    And here they were, in a small clearing in the middle of the woods. Erin, in her armour, sitting on the ground, and Azcheron, arms crossed, standing up and staring somewhere in the woods. He slowly turned his head to face Anton, probably already aware of his arrival.

    ¡°Anton, old friend ! You''re finally here.¡±

    The scholar walked straight toward Azcheron, not bothering to look the part of the old friend, probably having the expression of the old arch-nemesis instead.

    ¡°I''m so glad to see you,¡± the Saint continued. ¡°You''ve been well, I hope ?¡±

    Anton sighed and grabbed the brat by the collar. Refraining from shaking him like a chemical concoction in a phial took everything he got.

    Azcheron smiled innocently. ¡°You look angry. Perhaps there was trouble on your way here !¡±

    ¡°Oh, yeah, trouble,¡± he answered in a flat voice. ¡°There''s plenty of it. For you, that is.¡±

    ¡°Hey, hey. Aren''t you the one in trouble ? I came here as soon as I got your letter, you know ! To take care of... well, trouble.¡±

    ¡°Your trouble. It''s yours. Of course you''ll take care of it. But you don''t take care of trouble by creating more of it ! You just don''t. Ever. It doesn''t work like that. Especially not like that !¡± he bellowed while pointing to the sky.

    ¡°Bah. You''re getting carried away over some mere bats, aren''t you ? Look, it worked. You found me and I managed to stay hidden.¡±

    Erin snorted upon hearing this. Perhaps she found something funny. That somewhat annoyed Anton. He released his grip on Azcheron''s collar before facing Erin. She was supposed to be the normal counterpart to Azcheron, or at least the one with the common sense, the one that could stop those absurd situations from actually happening.

    ¡°And what about you ?¡± he asked her. ¡°Nothing to say ?¡±

    She shrugged and smiled resignedly. ¡°Oh, lots of things to say. Nothing that could make a difference now, though.¡±

    What''s this ! You''ve got no fight at all in you ! Don''t tell me you just go along with whatever crap he comes up with, now ?

    Azcheron didn''t look like he intended to let the conversation revolve around his trouble-management methods, and coughed to get everyone''s attention.

    ¡°Hrm. Before we start this interesting conspiracy thing, which I''ve really been looking forward to, there''s one last issue that needs to be taken care of.¡±

    Erin frowned in irritation, as if she already had an idea. She didn''t say anything else though, so Anton had to ask the dreaded question.

    ¡°And what issue would that be ?¡±

    The Saint came behind Erin and put both his hands on her shoulders. ¡°Something I''ve been discussing with my lovely Erin here.¡±

    ''Lovely Erin'' ? Is that... something new ?

    Anton gave her an interrogating look, but didn''t get any sort of reply in return. He half-heartedly aimed his questioning gaze toward Azcheron, mighty holder of all answers. The brightness of his smile increased twofold.

    ¡°We had a difference of interpretation regarding a situation we encountered earlier !¡±

    He neared a tree and stopped in front of it before continuing. ¡°I think we came to an understanding now.¡±

    He put his palm on the tree. ¡°We reached an agreement.¡±

    ¡°And,¡± Anton said, massaging the bridge of his nose, feeling like Azcheron was dragging his revelation on purpose, ¡°what did you two agree on ?¡±

    ¡°That I was right.¡± And his hand reached for something behind the tree. It was an old man. Azcheron was grabbing an old man by the neck, a tied and bound old man, badly bruised. He had a lot of missing teeth, though Anton couldn''t guess whether that was Azcheron''s doing or some other unfortunate fate that had befell the man before this even more unfortunate fate.

    The hell is this ! Are you torturing old people now !?

    ¡°His name''s Brutos. His job was to spy on us. Don''t know how he found us, since we were lying about our identities, but the fact is that I stumbled upon him while we were waiting for you here.¡±

    ¡°You... stumbled upon him.¡±

    ¡°I did. He was hiding in a bush and my foot conveniently landed on his face. I then stumbled. I may be an amazing magician, but I''m not adept at kicking people in a forest at night, so I fell.¡±

    ¡°...I, err, don''t know what to say ?¡±

    ¡°So I stumbled upon him, physically.¡±

    Please shut up.

    ¡°But not figuratively,¡± Azcheron carried on, ¡°since I was already aware of his spying and was looking for him.¡±

    ¡°Alright ! Alright, I get it,¡± Anton said in an exasperated groan. ¡°A pun, very funny. Let''s go to the point : did you interrogate him, yes or no ?¡±

    ¡°Of course. Got nothing out of him. Must be some lowlife who got paid in exchange for playing the part of a peasant and getting close to us.¡±

    The old man ¨C Brutos, if Anton was to believe the spy''s captor ¨C looked pitiful, but not in a way that suggested he had no idea why all this crap was happening to him. It was the pitifulness of someone failing at a dangerous job. The pitifulness of a caught spy.

    ¡°Doesn''t even know the face of the guy who employed him, he says. Was wearing an armour, he says.¡±

    ¡°So what do we do with him ?¡± Anton wondered, knowing fully what was about to happen. A spy was a spy. They had been talking freely not far from him, and he saw Anton''s face. Anton couldn''t afford to be linked to more of Azcheron''s stupidity, and so he would have suggested to eliminate him if that wasn''t already planned from the start.

    This time, Anton wasn''t as hesitant as he had been the last time Azcheron captured a henchman, for in the meantime he had had his very own assassination incident. These things could change your perspective drastically.

    Probably understanding that Anton''s question was only for appearances'' sake, Azcheron glanced at Erin, who wordlessly walked to Brutos. She gripped her sword and as the man began to realize that his end was near, and started to scream ¡°Wait ! Wait,¡± she slit his throat without a single care in the world.

    Brutos fell on the ground while making gurgling noises, and Erin kept staring down at the spy until he stopped moving. Then, and only then, she exhaled deeply, as if she had just ridden herself of a burden.

    That was when Anton noticed the awful, unhealthy relationship these two had. He had no idea what had happened in the past six months, but the two were unmistakably closer to each other now. That could have been a good thing. There was a brief vision in Anton''s mind, in which the Saint was a regular person, dealing with love like every young adult does, entering a normal relationship and becoming a family man.

    Except it''s Azcheron we''re talking about.

    Anton got dragged back into reality as his eyes wandered on the pool of blood caused by Brutos'' freshly slit throat.

    So... We have the brat who''s playing tricks and pranks to impress the girl he likes, though the consequences of said tricks and pranks are reaching the political scandal and national disaster fields. And we have the girl who tolerates all the brat''s mess because she probably likes him back, and accumulate a large deal of frustration that needs gruesome venting.

    Anton stared at Brutos'' corpse. The spy had been a casualty of Erin''s venting, that much was obvious. He closed his eyes, tried to deny that this was reality, that an already difficult pair had become even more of a hassle to handle, but he had to acknowledge the truth.

    Great.

    ¡°Now that this is done, let''s get to business,¡± Azcheron said.

    * * *

    ¡°I see,¡± the Saint concluded once Anton had finished his retelling of the assassination attempt at the Academy. He had also brought the pair up to date on the capital''s happenings.

    He told them of the Emperor''s sickness, of how nothing stood in the way of Hadrias'' crowning because of his brother''s disappearance, and of Azcheron and Erin''s reputation here. Though they already seemed to know about that last thing.

    ¡°Assassins sent to silence scholars researching draconic encyclopedias and old Imperial history,¡± he said mechanically as he stared at Erin. ¡°Sounds like a conspiracy to me !¡±

    Erin grimaced for some reason. But that was how it felt to Anton too. ¡°I agree there''s enough plotting and schemes to hint at something big. Someone in the Palace is obviously fearing that some dirty secret gets exposed.¡±

    Erin now had a look of stupefaction. ¡°You too ?¡± she asked in a strangled voice. ¡°And you''re going to tell me that it has something to do with Azcheron''s clan ?¡±

    ¡°As it happens...¡±

    ¡°I hope it does !¡± Azcheron interrupted. ¡°Time to go on a crusade for truth ! Dark secrets are buried deep in the Empire''s history ! Forgotten events that could hinder the next Emperor''s reign of terror ! Azcheron and Erin shall brave many dangers to overthrow an evil ruler ! The key may very well lie in the Rahal clan''s past ! How will they fare ?¡±

    ¡°Not well,¡± Erin said flatly. ¡°Hadrias will soon command one of the largest armies in the whole continent and there''s no proof he''s involved anyway. Don''t get excited for nothing. And last time I checked Roharl was still part of the Imperial forces.¡±

    ¡°Can I speak ?¡± Anton asked impatiently. As Erin said, it was important that Azcheron refrained from making up some convoluted goals, like antagonizing the Empire more than he already had.

    The Saint returned to his serious self, so Anton told him about his own guesses. About the books that were being researched at the time of the assassination, about something that the Dragon tongue linguist had supposedly found regarding the Rahal clan.

    Nathaniel wasn''t really helpful ¨C he wasn''t aware either of the details of this mysterious finding, but both him and Anton thought it had something to do with the Second Emperor. Though they had no clues about anything else.

    Erin bit her lip. ¡°So Nathaniel doesn''t know anything relevant...¡±

    Anton shook his head.

    ¡°How useless can he be ?¡± Azcheron grumbled.

    That''s a bit harsh. Poor Nathaniel almost got himself killed after all, and it was Anton that had dragged him in this mess in the first place.

    ¡°Well, there''s no two ways about it. I see only one place where we''ll get answers.¡±

    ¡°What, are you planning to question everyone in the Palace with brute force ?¡±

    ¡°Hm ? No, that''s boring. We''ll go west. Beating Karia should be evidence enough of my prowess, don''t you think ? I''m curious what the dragons have to say about my clan.¡±

 Update

    Hi !

    Thought I had dropped this ? Of course I haven''t. If you haven''t dropped it either yet, thank you very much, and if you did, well I understand.

    Sorry for the hiatus, anyway. If you''re wondering why I stopped posting, the reason is simple ; I lost motivation. I had things to do in real life, I had a large surge of laziness, and I simply didn''t like anymore what I had planned for the story. Don''t know if it ever happened to any of you guys who are also writing, but I just felt like the remaining arcs of my novel were shit. Trying too hard to add deep, epic plots and grim seriousness when it doesn''t really belong to the story. Or perhaps it does, but I haven''t got the slightest clue about how to do it well. Even the comedy was getting repetitive and predictable.Stolen novel; please report.

    So I pushed all this to the back of my mind for some time, instead of forcing myself to write what I had originally planned even if I was dissatisfied with it. I started writing another story in the meantime, so I had less and less motivation to keep going with this one. I admit I wanted to drop it for a moment, because I had no idea how to continue this in a way I deemed okay. Now I''ll make it clear : I still haven''t figured it out 100%, but I have some ideas, and I know how I''ll end it (it''s not too different from the original ending, actually).

    Currently writing the next chapter, but I won''t follow a schedule now, cause I need to work on a lot of things. You may have noticed I changed a few things (mainly the chapters'' titles, and I deleted the interlude because it was part of what I disliked.), and I may edit some parts of the already posted chapters if necessary, but I''ll warn you if I do.

 56 - A story of princes VI

    ¡°There''s this apothecary a few streets down... A real prodigy, I tell ya ! The man''s a top-notch alchemist, gets orders from the Palace''s physicist and all that. He even found some remedy against petrification ! They could have driven off the grey dragons from the western mountains with the help of this stuff, no doubt. Hm ? Why didn''t they, you ask... Yerr'' slow in the head or somethin'' ? They couldn''t make the petrified guys drink the stuff, so it was useless. I wonder why no one thought about that beforehand... Idiots, the bunch of ''em. Err, where did they get the idea that it would work if they drank it in the first place, you say... How would I know !? It''s just what everyone''s sayin'' !

    -apothecary¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°I wonder why Anton was so grumpy.¡±

    Erin looked at him with large, exaggeratedly opened eyes, reeking of disbelief and fake shock. Damn it, he realized, she probably caught on my act this time. He sighed, thinking that he now had to be more careful and tactical in his acting.

    It was a weapon that required a calculated usage. As were finely crafted and enchanted arrow heads ¨C of a devastating effect, but limited in number. To be wielded with caution.

    An archer should never shoot too often from the same position, else he''d risk becoming predictable and getting caught.

    They had departed for the western mountains after biding farewell to Anton. He managed to get them fresh horses for the trip, and so overall the old scholar was helpful despite his bad mood.

    ¡°I''m actually surprised he wasn''t much more annoyed by your mess,¡± Erin said seriously. ¡°I expected him to be angry.¡±

    ¡°He was fairly angry, though. And rude. He did grab me by the collar and shake me like a bandit stealing from an innocent traveller.¡±

    ¡°...Bandits don''t do that, do they ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t know.¡±

    ¡°I''m fairly sure they don''t. They just stab you and take what they want.¡±

    ¡°You can''t be sure.¡± He furrowed his brows in an offended frown. ¡°What''s with this accusatory ''you'' anyway ? No bandit ever stabs me. I always behead them before we come to that point.¡±

    Erin cleared her throat. ¡°Hrm... Okay. I don''t believe Anton was in the wrong, you know ? Because you threw the capital in panic, not mentioning the plotting and assassinations you brought on him.¡±

    ¡°I didn''t force him to look into my clan''s past ! That''s his own fault.¡±

    Azcheron couldn''t believe it. Would he be used forever as a scapegoat every single time a scheme or a war occurred ? Even though earlier he was bragging about how he was the cause of all these shady events... Revelling in his own hypocrisy was something Azcheron didn''t mind doing.

    ¡°Yeah... Because you don''t understand why he''d involve himself in all this in the first place.¡±

    He snorted. ¡°Oh, I''m curious, please enlighten this idiot Azcheron.¡±

    Erin stared at him, probably evaluating the degree of sarcasm in the Saint''s request, then simply shrugged as if she decided he was being an ass on purpose. He wasn''t though, but he didn''t care so much that he''d insist. He''d look like an idiot, for real.

    Better let her think that I''m smart and snarky than revealing that there are things I do not know. Appearances are mightier than the truth ! I''ll take glory and style over honesty and a guilt-ridden conscience any time !

    ¡°The truth is overrated...¡± he muttered. Would that be the same for his clan ? Only the future would tell.

    ¡°What ?¡±

    ¡°Nothing. How are the winters in the west, by the way ?¡±

    She seemed to think for a bit. ¡°Bad, I guess ?¡± she eventually answered.

    Azcheron could only blame himself. They''d arrive at the western mountains right on time for the early hints of winter. If they stayed there too long, the snow, the ice, the cold, everything would make the return trip harder and more dangerous. If they were lucky enough not to be trapped in the mountain...This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    The smart thing would have been to stay at the capital and spend the winter there, as they did the previous year, but that would have required of Azcheron to wait calmly for his answers in the middle if a city full of people who''d sell their own mother to kill him. The Saint himself knew he was in no disposition to keep a low profile in such an interesting environment, and while he was a bastard, he wasn''t vicious enough to drag Erin in that sort of challenging situation. The risk that they''d both end up dying was very present.

    Maybe I''d have done it if it was someone else. But Erin ? Can''t bring myself to do that, somehow.

    ¡°You''d die with me, if it came to that ?¡± he said suddenly.

    ¡°Wha-...¡± Erin looked genuinely confused, this time. ¡°Err... Are you planning to commit suicide, or something ?¡± she eventually asked, unsure.

    He smiled to himself. So that''s what it takes now to mess with you ? Rather extreme.

    ¡°Clearly not. I enjoy life far too much to do something as idiotic as abandoning it.¡±

    ¡°Yet you''re a master when it comes to idiotic and suicidal ventures,¡± she muttered before raising her voice. ¡°The hell you''re saying, then ?¡±

    ¡°Well...¡± he paused. ¡°You remember when we were fleeing from Oscar and the golems, back then ?¡±

    ¡°I said I wouldn''t leave without you.¡±

    ¡°Just wondering if you still felt the same.¡±

    ¡°Let me think.¡± Erin put her finger on her lip. ¡°There were assassins, bandits, Karia''s army, a siege... Now we have half the country praying for our demises and we''re going to the west once again, except it''ll be winter this time. And I''m still here, am I not ? Though I don''t want to die, mind you.¡±

    Azcheron simply shrugged. I suppose it''s an answer like any other.

    Why would he ask her that kind of thing, to begin with ? If felt out of character. That, and the fact that she was starting to see right through him... He had to get himself together. And he had all the time he wanted to do that. The trip wouldn''t be as long as the first time, since their horses were faster than Jormas'' caravan, but it''d still take a week, at least.

    Speaking of mounts, Azcheron was beginning to really enjoy travelling by horse. This past half-year had been filled with days and days of riding, and though it had been hard and tiring at first, he could greatly appreciate the gain of time allowed by a horse.

    Jormas'' caravan is fine and everything, but it would have been unbearable to do the round trip to the Free Cities. We would have taken at least a whole year, I bet.

    The next step would be finding something like a teleportation spell, or a self-summoning magic.

    Efficiency at its best ! When heroes are busy questing around and slaying dark mages, they should not have to deal with poor roads and tired horses. The Empire is really behind on these matters. Do they not care about their heroes'' working conditions ?

    Or he could simply tame a flying beast. A dragon, for example ! Now, wasn''t that a smart idea ? He''d have the advantage over the other heroes. Yes, he''d crush the competition if he had a dragon of his own to make his travels easier. Surely Azcheron could ask such favours from the draconic creatures, were they to become friends.

    ¡°We''ll have to befriend dragons,¡± he said to Erin, turning his head toward her.

    She stopped and blinked slowly. ¡°Could you... stop that ? You''ve been doing nothing but suddenly spouting nonsense and inept things.¡±

    ¡°Alas ! Tis the anxiety getting to me. Will you forgive me ? I''m so afraid of what we may discover there, that I cannot help but search for topics of conversation...¡±

    ¡°Right.¡±

    They kept riding in silence for some time. Only the sound of the hoofs against the muddy road, and the usual jingling of Erin''s plates and weaponry. Around them, the leafs had already left the trees, the green summer plants had been replaced by the grey, wet grass.

    ¡°Seriously though,¡± Azcheron said, ¡°I wonder. What will it be ? What do you think ? Hm ?¡± Barely waiting for her answer, he continued. ¡°Well I-¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she interrupted, ¡°I kinda got the feeling you were more interested in telling your own opinion rather than hearing mine.¡±

    ¡°Bah, you don''t really mind, do you ? I''m not even sure you care about what we''re about to learn.¡±

    ¡°I do, actually.¡± Erin shook her head and sighed. ¡°I care about the potential dangerousness of this truth you''re so eagerly seeking.¡±

    ¡°Oh, are you perhaps worried about me ?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± she said while giving him what was, no doubt, her kindest smile ¨C therefore a fake one. ¡°I''m thinking about innocent bystanders, friends, family and so on. I''m thinking hard about them, because apparently I have to do it for the both of us. ¡°

    ¡°You make me sound like an indifferent person.¡±

    ¡°My point. Don''t you care about Anton''s safety, for instance ? Who knows in what mess we''ll be dragging him ¨C again ¨C once this alleged ''dirty secret'' is out.¡±

    ¡°I wonder about that,¡± Azcheron said, raising a brow. ¡°Ever read these cat and mouse novels Anton had in his house ?¡±

    ¡°Of course not,¡± she growled. ¡°Who do you take me for...¡±

    ¡°Ah, right. Well, among the bad ones, there''s this trend I''ve noticed. First, the hero has to be taught the sword or the mage arts by his grand father or some elder, senile fellow.¡±

    ¡°Is this your stealthy way of saying that Anton is an elder, senile fellow ?¡±

    ¡°Hm ? No, he''s not that senile. I think. Anyway, as always, the hero antagonizes a bad guy, often a dark sorcerer or a corrupt noble. They hunt each other down, run around the continent or the country, something of the sort.¡±

    ¡°What then ?¡±

    ¡°At some point, the hero takes refuge in his old teacher''s house, to receive mighty advice or a convenient artefact. Then he leaves, but soon enough, the villain comes and fights the old man !¡±

    ¡°And ?¡±

    Azcheron shrugged. ¡°And the gramps dies, of course. For melodramatic purposes. It gives the hero a reason to get angry and go on a revenge rampage. People love these things, apparently.¡±

    ¡°Ha ! Rather, I think you love these things,¡± she scoffed. ¡°You know too much about those so-called mediocre novels. I find you less and less credible when you claim that you find them awful. Admit it, you enjoy them.¡±

    ¡°You''re simply jealous because you don''t read as much as I do. You''re illiterate. You prefer to swing that huge sword around like a brute.¡±

    ¡°Piss off. Why were you talking about that ?¡±

    ¡°I was just thinking about all the bad guys that would attack Anton in order to hurt me.¡±

    Erin sighed. ¡°I don''t think they do that, in real life.¡±

    ¡°Still, my very own grand-fatherly figure, Anton, could easily whack the crap out of anyone coming at him.¡±

    In fact, it already happened with the assassins...

    ¡°Hey, Erin. Instead of having an epic duel with me at the end of my tale, wouldn''t that be funny if the evil overlord happened to die in a fight against Anton ?¡±

    She stared at him. ¡°Evil overlord, huh... You mean you, patron god of irresponsibility and chaos,¡± she finally grumbled.

 57 - A story of princes VII

    ¡°Here''s what a standard meal for dragons looks like : a dozen of careless humans wandering in their territory, and their horses if they''re really hungry. For a quick snack, a couple of adventurers will suffice. Most dragons prefer soldier meat, as the training they go through keep them in good health. Makes the flesh tastier, but of course nothing''s worth a noble''s meat. Some nice bag of fat, waiting to be caught. Then, each race has its preferences regarding the cooking. Raw, roasted, stony... You''ll always know how you''ll be eaten just by being aware of what sort of dragon is about to eat you. It''s reassuring, somewhat.

    -cook¡±

    * * *

    Erin

    It was on a rainy day that they arrived at the mountains. They circled around the western fortress, and through the rain, the overwhelming shadow of the building could still be easily observed. Azcheron joked about going inside for a bit, catching up with the soldiers. Babbled about these things without realizing, it seemed, that many of them would have loved to put his head on a spike.

    Surely enough, the soldiers had not forgotten about the mess caused by the Saint last time they were here.

    It would have been convenient to go through the fortress, of course, because the soldiers probably had an idea of the dragons'' current location. But then again, last time they were proved wrong, so perhaps their scouts weren''t as reliable as they liked to think.

    Not knowing which route to take, they decided to start with the valley they used for their first passage. The elder dragon that was sleeping there had probably moved, but it was worth checking.

    By the end of the first day, their search didn''t bear fruit. They were disappointed, but they had been expecting that. It could take time, probably days, perhaps weeks, until they''d find a dragon in the mountains.

    On the second day, it started to snow. It didn''t last long, but it was enough to slow them down, as the mountains were now covered with a thin layer of frost. At some point, they took a break ¨C that was when Azcheron noticed it.

    ¡°Wolves.¡±

    Erin looked in the distance. Indeed, a pack of wolves. They wouldn''t pose a threat, seeing how far they were, so she allowed herself to gaze at them just for the sake of it. It was a rare sight, after all.

    ¡°I didn''t think there would be wolves here.¡±

    Were they not scared of the dragons ?

    ¡°Look.¡± Azcheron pointed to the alpha male. ¡°That''s me. The king of cunning animals, the ruler of the wild.¡±

    ¡°...Is that so ?¡±

    ¡°And that''s you,¡± he said, motioning toward the alpha female, perhaps. ¡°That wolf seems highly frightening and fearsome.¡± Is that a compliment ? she wondered. ¡°I think no one in the pack likes her.¡± Okay, it''s not.

    ¡°How nice,¡± Erin grumbled.

    ¡°Aside from the male, I guess.¡±

    Huh. ¡°Is there a point you''re trying to make ?¡±

    ¡°I thought that if we formed a party of adventurers and heroes, it''d be like that. Us, the alpha pair, inspiring discipline to the others trough my magnificent leadership and your fearsome persona.¡±

    She frowned angrily. Fearsome persona ?

    ¡°...Fearsome beauty, I meant,¡± he corrected himself as if reading her thoughts. Perhaps it was her expression that gave away her feelings of sudden bloodlust.

    She stared at the wolves for some time. They seemed in a hurry. It could be...

    ¡°Let''s try the direction they''re coming from. Maybe they''re fleeing.¡±

    Azcheron nodded, and they went toward their new goal. It wasn''t as if they had other ideas, and it wasn''t that long of a shot. Wolves were known to be smart animals, it was safe to assume that they''d be among the first to escape if something as dangerous as a dragon entered their territory.

    They walked for a few hours, until they came to a plateau. There, they knew. The place was silent, empty, and eerie. There wasn''t a need for words, both of them were sure that it was the place.

    Azcheron said something in Dragon tongue. Probably a greeting. At least, she hoped it was a polite greeting.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Out of nowhere, a growl answered. No, not a growl, a sentence.

    ¡°Human. You have returned, with proof of your might.¡±

    It took a few seconds for Erin to process that. She could understand the words. It wasn''t speaking in Dragon tongue.

    ¡°So they can speak like us,¡± she muttered.

    ¡°Indeed. We, descendants of the sky, know each and every speech existing in this world.¡±

    ¡°Why are you eating people ?¡± Azcheron casually asked. ¡°I thought it was because of the language barrier. Cultural differences of some sort ¨C but it''s obviously not that.¡±

    The dragon stayed silent for a long time. Long enough for Erin to wonder if that question wouldn''t trigger the creature''s hunger, and therefore, their own deaths. But eventually, it answered.

    ¡°We have a reputation to uphold. Eating people makes us seem more fearsome.¡±

    What a shitty motive.

    ¡°Well...¡± The Saint scratched his cheek. ¡°The reason is as good as any. Fine with me.¡± Not with me ! she screamed internally. They''re basically killing people for appearances'' sake ! Hgnn. Alas, Azcheron did not care for Erin''s silent indignation. ¡°So, you know why I''m here.¡±

    ¡°We do. As promised, Rahal warrior, we shall disclose the truth. Beware, however, for the truth is terrible. It is a burden you shall have to carry for the rest of your days.¡± An excited smile formed on Azcheron''s lips. Erin herself couldn''t deny her enthusiasm. ¡°It is a tale from forgotten times, a tale of power, friendship, and betrayal. A story of princes.¡±

    * * *

    Once the dragon had finished his story, Azcheron''s smile was gone.

    ¡°Huh... This is...¡±

    A burden indeed. Erin felt like laughing. I really shouldn''t. It''s awful of me. Azcheron did not utter another word, as they climbed down the mountain.

    She could understand his disappointment. Yet at the same time, she was relieved.

    ¡°Come on now, Azcheron. It''s not that bad.¡±

    ¡°Not that bad !? You... Hrrrrrh...¡± He gripped his head with both hands and sat on the ground. ¡°Fuck it. Fuck everything. I don''t even care anymore. I came here hoping for something grand. Something like a royal ancestor who was forced into exile because he got his throne stolen from him. I was really imaging myself as some crusader of truth, fighting for an ancient but legitimate cause.¡±

    ¡°A crusader of truth, you say... Yeah... Can''t really see that happening, now. Sorry.¡±

    ¡°It was a perfect plan ! I''d uncover the dirty secret of the Second Emperor, who usurped the crown ! How my ancestor was the rightful emperor and how he was forced to flee on this island ! How he founded the Rahal Clan, preparing for a revenge that would take place centuries later !¡±

    ¡°Yep. And I suppose you would have been the avenger. Would have made for a rather epic story. But don''t be so depressed, you do have a royal ancestor, in a way.¡±

    ¡°The obscure brother-in-law of a guy who was himself a bastard of the daughter of the sixteenth prince. What an amazing ancestor. And he was the one who tried to steal the throne and failed miserably.¡±

    I wonder why the dragons held respect for Azcheron and that Rahal guy... Maybe he was an amazing mage, but just dumb. They do seem like the kind of creatures that admire strength before all. They also clearly like to embellish their stories and they treat the world like it''s a theater. Maybe they just wanted to see some drama in the human world, so they baited Azcheron with eloquent wording and prophecy-sounding crap... Well, it''s up to me to lighten his mood, anyway.

    ¡°What difference does it make ? Sure, the Second Emperor was the good guy in the end, but can''t you still try to overtake the Empire, as to honour your ancestor''s will ?¡± She wasn''t really wishing for that to happen, but she had to console Azcheron, one way or another.

    ¡°Hah... But that''s not how I wanted things to turn out... I was supposed to kill the evil descendant of the usurper and take the throne for myself because my claim was legitimate...¡±

    Err... I think that if anything is evil, it''s your own plan, so... I''m kinda glad you don''t have legitimacy. No offence, I love you as you are, but I''m not sure I''d want to see you crowned.

    ¡°Now I can''t even become a proper hero because the Empire hates me.¡±

    ¡°Well, that... That''s your own fault, actually.¡±

    He didn''t bother to answer. He really seemed depressed. Maybe she had underestimated the importance of this plot or whatever he had been preparing...

    While she was lost in thoughts about the Saint''s sudden loss of motivation, something caught her attention. Noise. From somewhere close to them. There was something hidden to their right. Azcheron didn''t seem to care, but Erin was ready to draw her sword and jump on whatever was lurking there. With the saint in this state, she''d have to be mindful of his safety while fighting.

    She stood there for a bit, waiting for the enemy to come out. It probably realized it had been spotted. She would have preferred for them to go their separate ways, but instead, the opponent decided to show itself.

    It was a human. A familiar one, also. Old, wearing a black armour. He should have no reason to be here, but Erin wasn''t surprised. She had been wary of him for a long time, after all.

    ¡°Oh, Rudolph,¡± the Saint said without conviction in his voice, as he finally noticed the newcomer. ¡°Fancy meeting you here.¡±

    The black knight raised a surprised brow, before smirking. ¡°How are you two youngsters doing ?¡±

    Are we engaging in a casual conversation out of the blue ? Well, not that it matters...

    ¡°I would say good, but that''s only me,¡± Erin said. ¡°I''ve never felt that relieved in a long time, in fact.¡± Hearing that, Azcheron let out a long growl, but she paid him no heed.

    ¡°Hm. No idea what you mean, but if you say you''re fine...¡±

    ¡°We aren''t. Erin simply doesn''t realize that my life''s work has been destroyed. Don''t worry, she''ll weep soon enough. She can''t be that insensitive.¡±

    Rudolph stared at him, deep in though. Eventually, he cleared his throat. ¡°Say, Azcheron. I''m getting tired of this job, but orders are orders, so I may as well get on with it. Got a question for you.¡±

    Orders, huh. From Ravilna ?

    ¡°Ask away,¡± Azcheron said, waving his hand.

    The old knight scratched the back of his head. ¡°You planning to destroy the Empire or something, anytime soon ?¡±

    Hrah ? While Azcheron didn''t seem to be in a hurry to answer, Erin was wondering what they should do. What''s with this question ? So accurate it''s fishy.

    Azcheron eventually let out a long sigh. ¡°Bpff... I no longer have the motivation. There''s no point anymore.¡±

    ¡°I see. The prince will be glad to hear that, though I guess the countess will be disappointed.¡±

    Erin pinched the bridge of her nose as she put the pieces together. ¡°Were you supposed to be spying on us ? You don''t seem to care about doing a proper job.¡±

    ¡°Like I said.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Getting tired of it. I can finally go home and get drunk somewhere, since we took care of that. Lots of things I can toast to, now that I think about it. A new emperor, my pay... Oh, yeah, the crowning celebration and all that. Plenty of opportunities to get drunk.¡±

    Azcheron gave yet again one of his plaintive groans, which was suddenly cut off. He had now an unfocused gaze, his mind wandering elsewhere. The slight trembling of his lips betrayed his excitement. Erin''s experience and masterful knowledge of the Saint told her the reason. He seemed to have found solace in another petty plot. ¡°Are you in a rush to get back ?¡± he asked Rudolph.

    ¡°Not particularly. The celebration will last for three months at least, so-¡±

    ¡°So we have time... And we have horses. What do you say about a short detour south ?¡± Erin couldn''t help but think that Azcheron was trying to start a party or some group along these lines. ¡°I guarantee it''ll be worth the two months we''ll lose.¡±

    As for me, I can already guarantee I''ll regret following you in this new venture, she cursed in her mind. Yet she did not speak a single word of her disapproval. Whatever shenanigan Azcheron had just imagined, she could not know ¨C but it had cured his depression, that she was sure of. He had his usual smile back on his face.

    For Erin, that was enough reason to step into another mess of his creation.

 58 - A story of princes VIII

    ¡°Coronations in the Empire are something. They last for months, and everyone attends it. For a period of time, each day the Capital will see its streets crowded from noon till evening. It''s a tiring event, but it''s worth the trouble. Of course, these long celebrations have more attractiveness to them when they''re rare and happening at best every couple of decades. I''ve read somewhere that there was a time once, when six emperors succeeded themselves in the short span of four years. The citizens were happy to attend the first two celebrations, though by the third one they were getting bored of it. You can''t spend half the year partying and drinking and whoring, after all. It''s highly impractical and very money-consuming. Very few were those who took part in the fourth celebration, and so when the fifth emperor sat on the throne, he tried to pass a law that sentenced to death anyone refusing to cheer in the streets and drink to his name. Got his head removed from his body by the plebs, and the following emperor, well, he gave a short afternoon party and that was all.

    -citizen taking part in the celebration¡±

    * * *

    Leopold

    As he heard the cheers of the crowd down there, Leopold could only think of one thing. Today was the best day of his life.

    Hm, that''s not exactly right, is it ? To be precise, it''s been two months that everyday is the best day of my life.

    Indeed, these past two months, there had not been a single day during which dear Leopold Verald could not say honestly that today wasn''t the best day of his life.

    That''s a lot of best days in my life. A proper reward for the wisest decision I have ever made, he thought, eyeing the youth that was now the new ruler of the greatest nation in the entire continent ¨C the Forty-eighth Emperor Hadrias, ruler or the everlasting Empire.

    Backing his majesty Hadrias had granted Leopold the position of high-chancellor ¨C a title he had been dreaming of for a very long time. Finally, he managed to get there. To the highest step. That meant no more cleaning after arrogant fools who proved far too overzealous in the exercise of their mediocrity. No more feelings of humiliation at the mere thought of having an incompetent yet untouchable rival occupying the most desired position in the government. From now on, he''d be ruling the country alongside with the new emperor.

    Speaking of the emperor, he showed promise. In any case, Leopold wouldn''t have sided with him had he thought otherwise. Aiming for the high-chancellery was one thing, but it was a dream that could be turned into a nightmare if it meant serving under the wrong person. But the youth was wise beyond his years, held the Imperial values in high esteem, disapproved of the twisted, absurd ways of the previous administration. Just like Leopold. Therefore, he had a feeling that Hadrias would make a good sovereign. Even more so if he kept listening to Leopold''s experienced advices.

    Leopold leaned against the balcony rail, letting his eyes witness once more the sea of people. The citizens of the capital were acclaiming Hadrias, as they had been doing for more than two months now, a couple of hours each day.

    Only one month to go.

    Of course, when in Leopold''s position, to keep a sane mind in such a situation, one would have to deliberately ignore the calamitous expenses required of an event like this one. Oh, sure, the chariots and the dancers were fine, the martial artists and the jousting knights were entertaining, the never-ending music of the bards and the roaring of the crowd were enthralling.

    And the Imperial treasury was being butchered. The coffers were getting lighter with each day passing. As for why the people still found interest in a show that had been going on everyday for two months straight, the high-chancellor could not fathom.

    The only thing that allowed Leopold to enjoy his daily best-day-ever feeling despite the dangerous economical situation, was none other than the strong belief that these financial issues could be easily resolved, now that he and Hadrias were ruling the nation. The previous man who sat on that throne was a phenomenal imbecile who''d have indebted the Empire, were it not for the chancellors'' hard work. They had unmistakeably been, for many years, what kept the country from collapsing.

    Treasury aside, the international relationships had greatly suffered too. The Forty-seventh Emperor''s existence was the cause of many clusterfucks, as one may have said, and the neighbouring nations knew that very well. They knew better than dealing with an unpredictable leader, and if they happened to be unaware, he''d do a proper job at reminding them by waging pointless wars and ridiculous campaigns.

    We''ll finally reestablish diplomacy with the south, maybe even negotiate a peace treaty with the northern cities. Make the Empire prosperous again by reopening lost trade routes.

    A sudden burst of cheering and applauses made him jump. Down there, two blade masters from the southern kingdoms were apparently having a sabre duel, and the people were very pleased by the demonstration.

    The plebs do enjoy exoticism, after all. Though if you ask me, these dancers are only good for entertainment and theatre... I wouldn''t expect them to fare very well against the Imperial knights.

    ¡°Magnificent,¡± said a woman on the balcony.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Hadrias'' voice came, answering the praise.

    Leopold looked to the side to see that nefarious countess Beatrice Ravilna chatting with the Emperor. Lord Verald immediately walked toward them with the intent of saving Hadrias from Ravilna''s poisonous claws.

    ¡°Well, if it isn''t high-chancellor Verald,¡± she called out as soon as she saw him arriving. ¡°Is the show not to your liking ?¡±

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    ¡°Surely you jest, chancellor Ravilna.¡± Hearing her newly acquired rank from a rival''s mouth seemed to please the countess beyond reason. It was obvious she had long forgotten her grief, if she ever felt something at the death of her lord father in the first place. ¡°How could one not enjoy such a sight ? And think of the bankers ! They must certainly enjoy the cause of our future debt, no doubt.¡±

    ¡°Lord Verald believes this is a waste of money,¡± said Hadrias, shrugging elegantly in his white attire. ¡°He sees the bankers and the loaners as the great winners of the story. I say, let our coffers empty themselves, if it pleases the people. The citizens are still angry for what happened in the north, and gold will soon come back our way, won''t it ?¡±

    ...A wise emperor that could be wiser even, if only he''d listen to me. There''s no need for this absurdity to last three months !

    Beatrice let a snicker escape before speaking in a tone full of mirth. ¡°Your majesty has a very valid point. Ah, how sad to see great minds such as yours, lord Verald, dulled by the weight of new responsibilities.¡±

    An awkward silence ensued, and so Hadrias tried to escape. ¡°Ah, the military display is about to start. I shall have a look.¡± For the sixtieth time ? Bah. Beatrice and Leopold nodded and each went their separate ways.

    The high-chancellor looked around ¨C on this large balcony filled with the notorious and the high-born, there had to be at least one person willing to speak about something else than the damn celebration. The Third Princess, maybe ? Clearly not. She was busy giggling and whispering to some girls of her court about how the dancers were handsome and so on. He''d rather vomit than make small talk with her.

    Minister Farril, perhaps ? They could have a nice, proper talk about the trade routes and the potential economical partners they had in mind. Though he was currently arguing about something with ex-high-chancellor Latrea, who resented Leopold for stealing his job.

    Not that I care, but I can''t have a conversation with him in the vicinity, nowadays. He''ll contradict everything I say out of jealousy and anger.

    Lord Latrea''s annoying interference in the debates they both happened to take part in was usually enough to make Leopold''s knuckles turn white, and pop a vein or two while they were at it. So that was a no. Glancing around, he eventually caught sight of someone who made a poor job of hiding his indifference toward the military display. A newcomer in these elevated grounds that were the nobility''s balconies.

    Anton Vardt, Lord of the Storm or whatever the soldiers liked to call him, was somewhat fancied by the Farril house and so found himself unlucky enough to be invited here. Of course, the man seemed entirely displeased, but unfortunately for him, Hadrias had learned that he was the one they had to thank for stopping the invasion of hell-bats in the capital.

    The brave man apparently hunted down the culprit, a fishy fellow going by the name of Brutos, according to the reports, and killed him after a ferocious fight in a forest not far from the capital. The guards also found the culprit''s transportation means, a horse humbly named Brutus, which got the soldiers cautious. After further examination by experts, the animal was deemed unable to cast summoning magic and so the case was closed.

    Or so the story goes.

    So Hadrias, seeking to promote new heroes to calm the agitated citizens, insisted that Anton, vanquisher of the hell-bats, be seen in his company. Needless to say, no one could afford to refuse a direct invitation from the emperor, and so here he was. He was also the teacher of that ignoble brat, Azcheron, and that was much more important in the eyes of Leopold. The man was a known associate of the dreaded Saint, so he had to be very mindful of his actions these days ¨C that meant Anton couldn''t very well refuse Leopold''s help and protection, and the bargain that would come with it.

    There are all kind of stories that could work. Something along the lines of ''oh, poor me, my disciple betrayed my teachings and the Empire by joining hands with the northerners ! I shall take arms once more, and put and end to what I''ve started !''

    Leopold chuckled while rubbing his hands together. He could have been a playwright ! Though coming up with tales to manipulate the people wasn''t all that different, in the end. Pushing aside his thoughts of trickery, for now he decided to have a talk with Anton, even if it was about the celebration. At least they probably both thought ill of all this.

    ¡°What do you think of the display, professor Vardt ?¡±

    Anton gave him a frown. ¡°A very debilitating event, lord Verald.¡±

    ¡°How so ?¡±

    ¡°I don''t see why it''s necessary to have this display occur everyday. These machines belong not here in the streets, but on the walls, and it''s especially true for the magical artillery. Please imagine how critical it''d be for the capital to be attacked right now.¡±

    ¡°Now, now, professor, aren''t you a bit paranoid ? An attack, here, out of the blue ? I''d hear about it before it happened, trust me.¡±

    ¡°And did you perhaps hear about the hell-bats before they were summoned at our gates, high-chancellor ?¡±

    Leopold didn''t answer. Nothing clever came to mind. As if to save him from his rhetorical predicament, a god-sent servant from Leopold''s office came to him, running.

    ¡°My lord, my lord,¡± the servant, Godefroy, managed to say between two extenuated breaths. ¡°Most frightful news, my lord !¡± Leopold signalled him to come closer and to lower his voice. It wouldn''t do to speak of grim things among the many honourable guests gathered here.

    ¡°What is it ?¡±

    ¡°Red dragons have been sighted south !¡±

    ¡°And ? It''s nothing new, red dragons have been hunting in the southern mountains for centuries.¡±

    ¡°But my lord ! Several reports mention dragons flying north ! We have couriers and birds from various towns and fortresses along the way, saying how they all were attacked by red dragons !¡±

    Leopold panicked for a second, but his inner expert statesman spoke. ¡°Uh... Err... I-I know ! Roharl ! Where is Roharl ?!¡±

    A merciless Anton Vardt coughed before showing he had no qualms in kicking a man down, making sure he''d stay down, before kicking him some more. ¡°I believe the Dragon slayer is not in the capital at the moment, my lord. You sent him on a subjugation mission in the south east, some three weeks ago.¡±

    Yet Leopold still lived, clinging to a faint hope. ¡°Then send for him ! Find the quickest pigeon in the Palace and tell him to get back here !¡± he whispered as loudly as he could.

    Godefroy gave the finishing blow. ¡°He''ll never make it in time, my lord. We believe the dragons are less than a day away from the capital...¡±

    ¡°And...¡± Vardt added, ¡°As I said, I see some of our magical artillery gathered down here, when they should be composing our walls'' main defences. I wonder if we''ll have enough time to put these machines back where they belong...¡±

    Leopold wished he could wake up from this dream. It had to be a dream. Dragons attacking the capital, now ? Impossible. It couldn''t be dragons, right ? The reports were mistaken, these had to be large birds of some sorts. In the first place, why would red dragons come so far north, and why would they bother attacking the human settlements along the way ? They were usually content with burning down villages and small towns from the southern kingdoms.

    While he was deep in thought, Leopold could hear Anton Vardt questioning Godefroy, but the words seemed far, far away now. Everything was slow and blurred, everything felt distorted. He overheard Anton mentioning the words ¡°suspicious¡± and ¡°baited¡±. The high chancellor focused back on the conversation, and the servant quoted the reports. There was apparently very few casualties, as the dragons seemed to be hunting down something or someone, leaving the towns alone as soon as they made sure their target wasn''t there. Then Anton muttered something along the lines of ¡°fucking brat¡±, but Leopold cared no more.

    Today was the worst day of his life.

 59 - A story of princes IX

    ¡°Doo di doo... Egg egg, little egg thingy... Pretty egg, pretty pretty. Doo di doo da... Mom, look at the pretty egg !

    -last words of a child wandering in dragon-inhabited mountains¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    The running horses made the earth shake as their hoofs trampled grass, dirt and rocks alike. Had animals stayed in the middle of their path, the horses would have crushed them without a care. They could only focus on galloping as fast as they could. There was nothing alive on the roads anyway ¨C each and every animal here had already fled far away, fearing something far more sinister than horses and their hoofs.

    While Azcheron clung to his horse, the reins held in a tight grip, he wore a large smile from ear to ear.

    ¡°Hurry hurry, friends,¡± he said gleefully, without looking back, to Erin and Rudolph, who were riding just behind him, following him closely. ¡°We''re almost there. It would be a shame to die now !¡±

    Already the terrifying screeching and growling could be heard, echoing through the skies. I wonder if the capital prepared a line of defence... Did they believe the reports ? What of their scouts ? Such concerns mattered very little to Azcheron, but he had nothing else to do for the time. His battle strategy was already planned out, everything went more or less going according to his expectations up to this point, and he had a fairly good idea of the political aftermath of this small trick.

    The important thing was to arrive at the capital some time before the enemy, so that everyone could take their position. Going through towns and castles had managed to somewhat slow down their pursuers, but the lead Azcheron''s group could previously boast had started to diminish greatly. There wasn''t much he could do. Casting magic now to try to slow them down would only serve to reveal what he was capable of, so it was best not to do anything at all. No need for worry, he only had to entertain himself with random thoughts until they reached their destination.

    The Saint''s mount suddenly jumped over a tree trunk, jolting its rider as it didn''t care to slow down at all. Azcheron felt almost anxious for a second, immediately reaching for his belongings to make sure nothing was broken.

    He sighed in relief while eyeing his luggage. Carefully packed in several thick layers of linen and wool, this oval treasure was the cornerstone of his plan. Without it, the dragons wouldn''t have bothered to chase a handful of puny humans so far from their home ¨C and had it cracked on the way there, the grieving beasts would have furiously burned down the country instead of merely checking town after town for it.

    It wouldn''t be too much of an issue for the thing to break here, since it had served its purpose, but Azcheron couldn''t simply give up on his dragon-taming dreams.

    When it hatches, I''ll raise it as my familiar. If it doesn''t try to eat me, that is.

    Finding it in the first place had turned out to be easier than he''d have imagined. The hard part was stealing it, everything that came after that ¨C escaping, surviving, and leading the angry pursuers to the capital ¨C was a piece of dragoncake in comparison.

    It reminds me, I still haven''t tasted that dessert. Should I ask Tania to bake it for me once I''ve saved the city... He frowned, as an obvious complication appeared. Would that make Erin angry for dismissing her cooking skills as unrefined ?

    Azcheron could not deny that Erin''s inner noblewoman definitely showed up with it came to food. The damn girl could not cook a decent thing to save her life, she had no choice but to rely on others. The servants back at her manor took care of her meals, and she since her time with the mercenaries she only learned how to skin and roast animals, but nothing worth mentioning. And servants don''t grow on trees. Is that the saying ? He massaged his chin. Maybe I ought to get her a squire or something, as a present. One that can cook.

    He turned his head to face Rudolph. ¡°Can you buy squires in this country ?¡±

    The old knight made a strange face, he probably found the question inappropriate. Either because one couldn''t buy squires and asking about it was uncivilized, or else simply because there was no time for such concerns, what with dragons chasing them and all that.

    Azcheron would have liked to ponder on the answer, but alas, they arrived at the capital. A flow of people trying to enter the city, while the guards were hurrying them inside. They seemed very eager to close the gates, so the word must have spread. People were seeking refuge in the capital, fearing that dragons may lay waste and destruction to the lands around it.

    Little did they know that the real battle was to take place behind the walls of the city. ¡°If they knew,¡± he muttered, ¡°they would not let us inside.¡±

    But the galloping horses met no obstacles as they went in, almost trampling on a group of peasants. Now that they were behind the not-so-safe safety of the walls, it was time to begin the plan. Azcheron glanced back and gave a bright smile to Erin and Rudolph, trying to convey his wishes of good luck and all the customary friendly feelings that one could harbour moments before a deadly fight. Such were the polite manners he had learned from works of literature that emphasized the concepts of heroic achievements through friendship and mutual respect.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    His two accomplices did not seem to understand the real meaning of his smile. ¡°What an unsympathetic party. Well, let''s get to work !¡±

    Rudolph barely reacted, simply nodding before suddenly taking a turn in an alley to the left, whereas Erin lingered a bit more behind Azcheron. She obviously intended to say mean things, most likely criticism regarding this venture that would cause so many needless deaths of innocent bystanders, as she had already done ever since she learned of the plan, but they both knew it would have to wait until the situation calmed down.

    I personally do not think these are entirely innocent bystanders, he contemplated as he watched with indifferent eyes the panicking citizens running around in the streets. They did wish for my death at some point, and probably still do. Hopefully this theatre play shall contribute to change their minds ! Unless they get wind of the truth.

    ¡°Erin,¡± he called out as the imposing main plaza was stretching before his eyes at the end of the avenue, ¡°don''t die.¡±

    ¡°I''ll see you once this is over,¡± she replied. He turned his head to see her one last time, but she was already gone.

    I''ll shed a tear and start fearing for our lives, if this goes on, he thought with a sad expression. A fake expression that he brushed away with a radiant smile. Today was the day he''d shine, of a light bright enough to make every single of these idiot citizens forget about his tarnished image. Fame and glory in the small north was only the beginning. It was true that he could not hope to overtake the Empire anymore, and that the Empire itself wasn''t willing to make a hero out of him, but then he just had to make himself the hero of a fabricated story.

    The main plaza was filled with siege weaponry, ballistas and magical artilleries. Right, they were having a military display, weren''t they ? That''d explain their lack of preparations. Casting a shadow on the plaza was the Palace, standing tall as usual. The thing sure felt safe against ground invaders, but now that the attackers were fire-breathing flying beasts, Azcheron couldn''t help but wonder how useful it was against them. Maybe there were cannons hidden in the walls ? Or some forcefield.

    Regardless, the Palace itself was enough of a weapon by itself. Just as he was thinking about one of the most nefarious parts of his stratagem, Azcheron spotted a heavily defended convoy fleeing toward the Palace. It must be him. Ah, what a fortunate timing. That was something he decided not to take into account in the strategy, for the risk of it not happening was high. There was no guarantee the Saint could meet with the Prince ¨C or was it Emperor, nowadays ? ¨C nor that Hadrias would survive the battle ¨C especially if he went hiding into that tower.

    Now was Azcheron''s unexpected chance, his only chance really, to engineer the best possible outcome. Without Hadrias, the whole plan was nothing more than a gamble depending on the Imperial citizens'' goodwill.

    He strode after the convoy, singling out the main coach. The tremendous amount of knights and magic-maids told him which one it was right of the bat. ¡°This isn''t part of the original plan, but oh well¡± he thought out loud, attracting glances from the escort, that soon began to whisper.

    ¡°Hey, isn''t he... From the audience...¡±

    ¡°The Rahal Saint, right ? Nah, I don''t think so.¡±

    ¡°He just looks like him. Get moving, we have to get his majesty to safety.¡±

    Azcheron was glad to know that he was still popular. At least, they hadn''t forgotten about him. ¡°Alright then. Here goes nothing !¡± he said while getting off his horse.

    Infusing mana in his body, he magically jumped over the rows of guards and landed on top of the coach with an unforeseen violence, breaking the wooden roof and falling inside by a whim of physics. A convenient whim, since Azcheron was now sitting in a red velvet seat, facing the Emperor, with only Hadrias'' horrified expression and the pieces of broken wood suggesting that one of the two passengers used the wrong means of entry.

    ¡°What the...¡±

    Azcheron waved. ¡°Good day, your majesty.¡±

    The doors of the coach were torn apart as the guards rushed inside, and before the Saint knew it, he had half a dozen blades pressed against his neck. Either the Emperor would allow him the chance to negotiate, or Azcheron would have to murder everyone here and now.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Hadrias commanded to his people before one of them could impale Azcheron. The guards exchanged confused stares. They all were, beyond doubt, perfectly aware of his identity. It surely made little sense to spare a traitor such as him, even more so considering the imminent threat at the gates. Nevertheless, they obeyed his majesty and their nervousness showed on their faces as the Saint sat more comfortably in his seat.

    Azcheron nodded. ¡°I thank you for the opportunity. You seem wiser than your predecessor.¡±

    ¡°Speak, Saint. I''m not sure you''re aware of our circumstances, but red dragons have been sighted in the capital''s vicinity.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yes, that would be the reason of my visit. I heard you were in a pinch of some sort. Came to see if I could help !¡± he claimed innocently, and threw in a kind smile for good measure.

    Hadrias appeared to be suspicious of said good measure. Which was the normal thing to do, in fact, but still. Azcheron felt slightly hurt, knowing that people saw him as the most untrustworthy person in the continent. After Oscar. Eventually, the Emperor sighed. ¡°Why in earth would you come to the Empire''s aid when its people despise you ?¡±

    ¡°As an ally of justice, I-¡± he interrupted himself, seeing the annoyed frown on Hadrias'' face. ¡°Err... Here''s my proposal. I''ll get rid of these dragons for you.¡±

    The Emperor closed his eyes and rested his head against his palm. There was probably no need to question the Saint''s ability, if anyone had the opportunity to read lengthy reports of his fight with Karia, that was Hadrias. The man scoffed and smiled. ¡°...And in exchange ?¡±

    Now comes the hard part. Best make unwanted, outrageous demands first. ¡°Rehabilitate my image. Make me an Imperial hero, find some credible story to explain why Karia was in the wrong and so on. Wealth and land would be nice too.¡±

    Hadrias could only laugh heartily. ¡°Preposterous. The people will never accept you as a saviour coming out of the blue. They may very well think you orchestrated this attack, in fact.¡±

    ¡°Oh, we wouldn''t want that,¡± Azcheron replied with a grimace. Hearing that, the Emperor leaned forward and glared at him silently.

    ¡°Indeed, we wouldn''t,¡± he finally said before showing a confident grin. ¡°I wonder what happened to your pride. Weren''t you the one saying you wouldn''t bend the knee and serve the Empire ? Well, no matter. Consider yourself lucky, Azcheron the Rahal Saint. I personally believe you could do very well as an Imperial hero, though a clear path toward the position is the best you''ll get for now. We''ll come up with some tale about some kidnapped family and wishes of redemption to explain your betrayal and your return.¡±

    ¡°...Fine with me.¡± It was more than fine, actually. These were guarantees he couldn''t have hoped to get, had he not met the Emperor before the battle. Of course, the Emperor must have been perfectly aware of that. He probably accepted the deal only because it served his own agenda. Azcheron got to his feet and was about to jump back through the hole in the roof when he remembered something. ¡°Oh, by the way. I advise you avoid hiding in the Palace, your majesty. I''m afraid it won''t provide much in terms of safety.¡±

    On that note, Azcheron left, without waiting for anyone''s reply. He made sure he still had the egg with him, and went to wait in the middle of the plaza, the Palace at his back. In the distance, three shadows roamed the skies, approaching at great speed. He knew that he if was to look around, he''d probably spot Erin and Rudolph laying in wait, ready to finish off any injured dragon that would fell on the ground. Azcheron would be too busy with the healthy ones, so dealing with the crippled would be their job.

    He enhanced his sight and observed the opponent. Dark red scales that seemed to be made of molten rocks, large wings and the overall appearance of a killing machine ¨C such were the looks of a red dragon.

    These three dragons were probably young adults at most, since they were far smaller than the grey elder he had met. Out of the three, one of them was even smaller, probably a youngster. A brazen, hot-headed one, as it kept growling some sort of insults in his language. They did not make much sense, what with the curious colour metaphors that could only be found in this peculiar tongue.

    Nonetheless, it was a rude one, and so Azcheron decided it''d be his first target. He thought about using the siege weapons, but it would take too much time to prepare and it would surely be inefficient. Not that he even knew if he could use these things all by himself. His own magic was his best tool. The dragons were not aware of the Saint''s might, so he''d have only one chance at a surprise attack. He gathered a large quantity of mana, like he did against Karia, aimed for the young dragon, but instead of making it explode in an unsafe fashion, he released it as one would throw a dagger.

    The twisting, whirling blade of concentrated mana flew toward the dragon at high speed, the sound of its movement reaching Azcheron''s ears seconds later. Even from here, he could see clearly the dragon getting sliced in two around his right wing. The two halves of the creature fell from the sky, barely making a noise as they crashed in some far away house.

    ¡°One down,¡± he calmly concluded as he saw Rudolph riding in the direction of the corpse to make sure it was dead. ¡°Only two to go.¡±

 60 - A story of princes X

    ¡°Shit on fire, shit falling from the roofs, shit falling from the sky, shit on fire, god damn shit falling from the shit, more shit on fire, yeah, you want to know about the dragon attack during the Forty-eighth Emperor''s celebration ? Yeah ? YEAH ? Well, there, you have it. Shit on fire, shit on fire everywhere, I tell you !

    -traumatized citizen¡±

    * * *

    Azcheron

    ¡°Now they look even more furious.¡±

    The screeching, fire-breathing dragons had started to set the city ablaze as soon as they realized that one of them had suddenly died. Already the Imperial army was on the move, water mages on the roofs trying to fight the fire, archers shooting at the dragons, knights and soldiers alike standing in formation.

    But all that felt very vain, if anything. The dragons and their fire magic were much more potent than the Imperial mages, the archers simply missed their targets, and the swordsmen obviously had no idea what to do against flying opponents. Moreover, it was chaos. Citizens running around, fighters looking for an opportunity to desert their post, and, in general, people dying.

    ...Should I wait a bit ? Fearsome and deadly enemies make for a more booming glory once defeated. The deadlier the better, right ?

    But Erin wouldn''t like that. If at least he looked like he was busy, it could have worked. But he was just waiting on his horse in the middle of the main plaza while soldiers and civilians alike were getting burnt alive. And he wouldn''t want to be accused of being late by the people he''d managed to save, that would be stupid.

    One of the dragons landed on ground and started to eat soldiers and slice through them with its claws, occasionally burning groups of fleeing people. A battalion approached the dragon, for some reason. Either the fighters were brave idiots, or the commander was a irresponsible imbecile ¨C perhaps both.

    Glancing around, Azcheron spotted some fancy-armoured general with a feathered helm, screaming orders to his troops. The man was as panicked as one could be, but he was trying to sound confident and calm. It worked, to an extent, because for now his men obeyed him even if they were getting cooked by the beast they were dealing with. The cavalry was gathered around him while his mages and his archers were the only ones who could do anything. The regular soldiers tried, but it wasn''t pretty.

    Azcheron rode in his direction, and eventually called out to him with sound magic. ¡°Hey, you ! Hello !¡± Seeing that everybody seemed much more focused on the dragon, he repeated his greetings. ¡°Feather guy ! Listen, stop sending your men to their deaths !¡±

    It got the attention of the general and a bunch of his knights for a second, but the commander apparently still didn''t care enough and looked away. The knights, though, were throwing glances at Azcheron.

    I can work with that. He amplified his sound magic before making one last call and giving them the small push they needed. ¡°Does this pack of raw meat waiting to turn into steaks want to live or what ? Then follow me, raw meat !¡±

    He created a handful of massive earth lances from the paving stones and threw everything toward the dragon, in order to impress the soldiers and give some credibility to his proposal, then made his horse turn around and began riding away. It didn''t matter whether his spell hit his target or not. He glanced behind a first time to see a couple of other riders following him. The second time he looked back, the troops on foot were starting to scatter, and more riders came along. With a third glance, he caught a glimpse of the general following him with the remaining knights, and the dragon right behind them. A nice group of followers. He didn''t have time to count, but he surmised there had to be around fifty or sixty riders.

    With sight magic, he looked in the distance, behind the dragon, to spot Erin riding after it. Good, he thought, but as he focused back on the beast, he frowned.

    ¡°Why isn''t it flying ?¡± Azcheron muttered.

    ¡°Seems like its right wing is injured, milord !¡± said one of the riders who had caught up with him. He was almost surprised to be addressed in such a polite tone, but he didn''t mind it. After all, these men were fighting for their lives, they had no time to think about that guy who may or may not have looked like the Saint. Some of them probably knew who he was, in fact, but surviving an encounter with an angry dragon took priority over babbling about traitors and all that.

    Especially when said traitor was their only hope at survival.

    Even as he observed it, Azcheron couldn''t find any injury on the dragon''s wing, but it was barely moving indeed. Paralysis, perhaps ? It has to be an insanely strong lightning magic for it to work against a dragon. Guess we have an Imperial mage to thank after all.

    But a running dragon wasn''t a threat he could laugh at. It was still alive and kicking, or rather, biting and breathing fire. Whoever was unlucky enough to fall behind because of a tired horse could support that theory. Well, they can''t anymore, but, you know.

    More riders matched Azcheron''s speed and were beginning to give in to panic. ¡°Sire, what do we do !?¡± they asked. He glanced back at the general, who was dragging behind. It''d be hard to advice the guy without slowing down everyone ¨C hence killing everyone. Was he reliable anyway ?

    The first rider seemed to have caught on that. ¡°What are your orders ?¡± he yelled, as more and more riders were surrounding him. It was loud enough with the dragon killing his way through the rearguard, what with the screams and all that, and the trampling hoofs of the horses only made things worse.

    Azcheron thought for a bit. A dragon on ground was easier to deal with, provided they had the proper environment. ¡°For now, we keep riding forward ! Is there anyone here who knows the city like the back of his hand ?¡±

    ¡°Yes milord,¡± said one of the riders, ¡°I do milord ! Was born in the western district, milord ! Moved in the north when I was nine, have a little brother at the Academy whom I visit from time to time, and an older sister living in the eastern parts, milord ! She married a wealthy merchant and invites me for tea on a regular basis, milord !¡±

    ¡°Fantastical, Middle-child ! Direct us toward the nearest bridge, even a small one will do, as long as the dragon can go under it !¡±

    ¡°Are you planning to make it collapse on top of it ?¡±

    Azcheron laughed heartily. ¡°Nothing of the sort, it wouldn''t be enough.¡±

    It took a few minutes for the group to arrive at the proper location, near the entrance of a somewhat poorer neighbourhood. Azcheron could see the bridge at the end of the street, as it was leading down a basin where the less wealthy inhabitants of the capital lived. The people were mostly commoners here, but it wasn''t a slum per se. The houses were still comfortable and the marketplace was prosperous. Children had access to education, and they were still able to climb up the social ladder. All this, according to rider Middle-child who was born and raised in this district.

    Azcheron didn''t care about that, of course. What mattered was that the parts around this street were elevated, hence the need of a bridge, so that impatient nobles sitting in their coaches wouldn''t need to take a detour to go to the other side of the street. Because why use earth magic to easily make a slope when you can build a costly bridge and look superior while you cross the street ?

    One of the riders, a knight in plate armour ¨C most likely a highborn ¨C asked the dreaded question. ¡°So, what''s the plan, sire ?¡±

    ¡°You''ll have to act as bait and lead the dragon under that bridge, so slow down a bit because I have to get there before you !¡±

    ¡°Bait !?¡± a rider squealed.

    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    ¡°Slowing down... Ugh, milord, you were saying something about following you if we wanted to live ! Forgive me, how does this plan involve living ?!¡±

    ¡°Don''t worry,¡± he reassured them in a tone full of confidence. He had to boost their morale at all costs. ¡°Get the enemy under that bridge and I''ll take care of the rest ! You''ll survive if it works !¡± he said with his best smile.

    Before they could rightfully protest, Azcheron took a sharp turn in some side street, and rode in direction of the bridge. He had to push his horse to its limits if he wanted to get there in time. He thought about using magic to enhance his horse''s speed, but he had no idea how the mount would react and he would probably make it without that anyway. As he rushed toward the bridge, he could see the adjacent street through the occasional alleys between the houses. Catching glimpses of Erin, then a dragon shredding to pieces horses and men, then the group of riders that was getting thinner and thinner. The general with the feathered helmet wasn''t there anymore, he probably was eaten at some point. Soon enough he overtook his group and there was nothing to look at, so he set his gaze back on the bridge.

    He had originally planned to cast another mana-thing ¨C he really had to find a name for this spell ¨C from a high ground, taking the dragon by surprise, but he decided otherwise. He had spectators waiting to see what he would do, and there was one thing flashier than flashy magic. The plan wasn''t about killing dragons, as much as it was about killing them with memorable style. Also, they still had to rehabilitate Erin''s reputation. It would come naturally once he''d be acclaimed as a hero, but it would have been nice if people saw her delivering the killing blow.

    Azcheron was now on the bridge, and he could see the riders and the dragons approaching rapidly as he dismounted. He had to choose, and quick. Glancing at his waist was enough to decide. Once the riders were close enough to see him, and after making sure the dragon was busy enough eating horses so that he would fail to notice him, he griped the handle of his sword, unsheathed it, and pointed the blade toward the sky. Kept the pose for a couple a seconds so that the scene would be etched on the soldiers'' memory forever.

    Just as the dragon was about to pass under the bridge, Azcheron jumped. In the short window of time he had while he fell, he created a blade of pure, concentrated mana around his sword, and screamed his lungs out.

    ¡°PLUNGING ATTACK !¡±

    The blade of mana buried itself deep in the dragon''s back, as if the scales were non-existent. The beast collapsed on the ground, and Azcheron clung to his weapon as the dragon rolled over several times, ruining the paving stones of the streets before eventually crashing in a house. The impact dislodged the sword and sent the Saint flying away. He groaned as he fell on the paved street inelegantly, while the beast screeched and growled in pain.

    Azcheron rose slowly to avoid worsening any injury he might not have felt, and in the corner of his eyes he saw Erin and the surviving soldiers ¨C less than half their original number ¨C approaching carefully. They were, obviously, in awe before this spectacle, and began to whisper among themselves. He glanced at his sword now that his magic was dispelled, just in time to see the blade shatter in a thousand fragments.

    Well, it wasn''t a proper enchantment to begin with, that was to be expected, he smiled to himself. It''s convenient actually.

    He walked toward Erin and showed the handle of his weapon for all to see. ¡°Its seems I have asked too much of my sword,¡± he said loud enough so that everyone could hear him over the pained screams of the dragon, ¡°so I''ll give you the honour, lady Verald.¡±

    More whispers reached his ears, as intended. Erin understood his goals and lost no time. She neared the dying dragon''s head, dismounted and took her blade out of her scabbard. A faint glow engulfed the steel before she shoved it through the beast''s left eye, deeply enough to reach the brain. Seconds later, the screeching had stopped.

    The street was silent, save for the soldiers muttering in admiration, and faint noises in the distance. There was still one dragon alive and rampaging, after all. Azcheron glanced over the twenty-odd soldiers who had managed to stay alive.

    ¡°Men !¡± he addressed them, and immediately their bodies stiffened. ¡°It has been a difficult battle ! Many of your comrades have perished, but I couldn''t have done it without you ! I admire you for your courage and your determination to live through such trials !¡±

    That was his eloquent way of thanking them for their cowardice that allowed him to slay the dragon in the coolest of fashions, expertly replacing their feelings of guilt and dishonour by pride and satisfaction.

    ¡°But as you can see,¡± he pointed in direction of the Palace where lights and explosions could be seen, ¡°the fight is not over yet ! There is one last foe to vanquish, and I shall head back there without delay.¡±

    ¡°Milord !¡±

    ¡°Sire, let us come with you !¡±

    ¡°We''ll gladly give our lives if needs be, m''lord !¡±

    Eh... Did I turn them into brave and selfless allies of justice ? He closed his eyes and shook his head solemnly. ¡°I cannot accept that you lay down your lives when there is still much you can do. The streets are filled with injured and panicked civilians. Get them to safety, for this last battle will spare no bystander lingering too close.¡±

    The knight from before came forward and took his helmet off. ¡°Sire, I am Hugo of house Givster. I ask that you do us at least the honour of giving your name. I think that every one of us here already knows who you are, because of lady Verald''s presence, but... please.¡±

    Azcheron scoffed and crossed his arms. ¡°Very well. I came here to protect my country despite my tarnished reputation and whatever enemies I have, but I found unexpected comrades in your persons. I owe you that much.¡± I always intended to give you my name, but still. It looks better when you''re the ones asking. He jumped back on his mount, and Erin did the same. ¡°I am Azcheron, the Rahal Saint !¡± he eventually said, as he turned his horse around and rode toward the Palace.

    He was glad they could only see his back, because despite his efforts, he wasn''t able to hide the obnoxious grin on his face. He knew it could be described as obnoxious because of the annoyed expression Erin made as soon as she looked at him.

    On the way to the Palace, they had to slow down. The horses were too tired, but luckily they shouldn''t need them for the last act of the piece. Once they reached the main plaza, they could see the carnage. The Imperial army was battling against the last dragon, but this one was still flying, dodging swiftly any magical projectile that came its way. It didn''t seem like it would let itself be paralysed like its colleague. The soldiers on ground were getting burnt alive, it was a wonder they had managed to come this far. It seemed they weren''t trying to flee because the dragon was baiting them, occasionally flying close enough to the ground so that they''d try to pierce him with their pikes.

    They probably thought that as long as they had a chance, they''d try their luck. Hope was the reason they stayed here, in this hunting ground. Hope that they could slay the dragon and, in exchange for their own lives, save the city, their friends, their families. Probably.

    If not that, then I don''t know. Would have fled the battle immediately if I was in their shoes, but whatever.

    Azcheron motioned for Erin to distance herself. Rudolph should have been far enough too, as he was instructed to stay away from the Palace. The Saint enhanced his body and jumped on a roof from where he could have a better view of the plaza. He gazed at the scenery for a moment, looked at the soldiers, at their faces, their shaking hands, their pants covered in piss.

    He hesitated.

    They''re dead men anyway, he thought. They gave up on living, they won''t try to flee. He had to act while the mages and archers were pinning the dragon here, above the plaza. The soldiers, as heroic they may have been, held no value. Their lives were insignificant. He''d save the many by sacrificing the few. He didn''t care when Imperial soldiers and northerners died by the thousand at Pelirise. Why should he now ?

    The only difference was that the war in the north was not his fault in the first place ¨C here, it was a consequence of his own plotting. Why did Rudolph and Erin accept to help him with this plan, now that he thought about it ? It made very little sense.

    Well. These concerns are for another time. He exhaled deeply, and decided to follow his original plan. He''d send the soldiers in the plaza to an early death ¨C earlier, truly. He gathered the largest quantity of mana he had ever manipulated, and observed the dragon''s movements. There was a cycle of some sort, the times when he''d get close to the ground happened at regular intervals.

    These calculations are anything but accurate, though it should be close enough. Once he felt it was the right time, Azcheron directed the mana toward the Palace, and started to work. There, around the two thirds of the tower starting from the ground, cracks began to appear on the facade. The cracks became gashes, and soon enough tremors and cracking sounds echoed in the sky.

    The part of the Palace that was facing the plaza imploded, and the top of the tower started to tilt. It was leaning over the city for a moment. And then it fell.

    Large chunks of stone were now landing on the screaming soldiers, and the dragon seemed to finally realize. To prevent its escape, Azcheron casted a volley of magic missiles, which were dodged as expected, but it had bought enough time. When, eventually, the dragon looked up, it was only to see the higher third of the Palace falling at high speed right above him. Everything came down crashing, the earth shook and a powerful shockwave occurred.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± was all Azcheron had the time to mutter as the roof he was standing on was simply destroyed. Stones and horses and dead bodies and all sorts of things were blasted away. He fell in an alley and probably broke a few bones, but there was no time to think about the pain, else he''d be buried among the wreckage. He barely avoided a wall falling over him by destroying it with a mana blast.

    In the main street, he found out he had a mountain of rubble to climb in order to see what was left of the plaza and the Palace. The impact had raised a thick cloud of smoke and dust, so he had to use a bit of wind magic to clear his view.

    Once on top of the pile of rocks, Azcheron could see all of it. Two thirds of the Palace standing tall above the dust of cloud and the mess under it. The ruins were scattered with blood, dead bodies, and from time to time, injured people moaning in pain and screaming for help. It took him half a minute to spot the head of the dragon. Gaping mouth and empty, lifeless eyes. The rest of its body was undoubtedly squashed under these absurdly large pillars of stone.

    ¡°Well...¡± he whispered. I''ll take credit for the first two kills. Maybe not this one.

    He could spread the word that he didn''t make it in time, that when he arrived, the Imperial army had managed to corner the dragon, who, in a last resort, destroyed the Palace and killed everyone. It would make the army look brave and competent despite its spectacular uselessness during the battle, while allowing Azcheron to pass for a tragic hero. He''d rather have people wrongfully accusing him of being late, than people rightfully accusing him of making the Palace collapse on the army.

    Mass-murderers rarely become heroes. Then again, we have Oscar, so I don''t know... Still, I wonder if it''ll work.

    But overall, the plan was a success.

    * * *

    ???

    The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron''s legend, depicted the battle in a much more favourable light. The Imperial army, willing to brave many dangers, followed Azcheron as he rode forward, against not three, but ten dragons, saving each and every citizens they met along the way, with everyone lending their energy to the Saint so that he could cast a mighty magic made from hope, friendship and determination. These authors were accused of plagiarism. Others found it interesting to foreshadow the death of Erin Verald before the battle, and give her a tragic death scene, after which Azcheron entered a raging vengeance that fuelled his magic with negative feelings. They, too, were accused of plagiarism.

    History tells of a different truth : the battle, as previously seen, was less glorious than Azcheron would have liked it to be. It involved less friendship and more hypocrisy, and it certainly didn''t end with the death of Erin, nor Rudolph''s or any other named character, for that matter. Rumours said that they went to eat dragoncake at Anton''s house to celebrate the Saint''s costly victory, though such behaviour could only be, as some would put it, out-of-character for Erin and Anton.

    But the story of Azcheron celebrating his success shall be spoken another time ¨C it shall be mentioned in the next arc, actually ¨C for the long awaited story of his beginnings as a controversial Imperial hero, is now about to be told.

 61 - A taste of glory

    ¡°They say news travel fast. I say the best news travel even faster ! Letters telling of good love and hopes for the future, now that''s my kind of news. Oh, lady, excuse me ? Yes, you... You seem like you''re in a hurry to inform your close ones of something ? Here, let me introduce you to my new prototype of magically enhanced messenger bird... The love-powered hybrid pigeon ! The better the news you want to spread, the faster they''ll go ! But don''t tell anyone they''re only powered by mana in truth, eh ? Haha !

    -salesman¡±

    * * *

    The girl in the faraway island

    She was lying on the sand, in the middle of the beach. Only the waves of the sea pierced through the silence, like a soft lullaby sung by a mysterious deity of the sea. She rolled to her side and observed the pile of sand that was meant to be a portrait.

    ¡°Making statues is quite hard, huh...¡± she complained before exhaling deeply. She got to her feet and dusted off the sand in her black hair and on her coloured robes. As she was walking away, she stopped and turned her head. Glanced one last time at the thing that may or may not have resembled her from this angle, and blasted it away with a magic missile.

    Sculpting sand with her own hands wasn''t her forte, anyway. No need to be sullen because of a mere statue, she had others qualities. She was much more proficient with magic, and she trained like crazy, to the point where her mana-sculpted portraits were now as good as the ones Azcheron used to do. She could only hope to prove her superiority at sculpting by tackling the non-magical version of it, but it turned out to be quite the challenge. As she neared the village, she decided to take a detour via the training grounds, to see how the young ones were doing.

    Here, children were practising various forms of magic missiles, attempting to modify the speed and the size of the spell, adding fluctuations, changing the shape, even splitting the projectile in several smaller parts. She was standing here silently, observing the children, when one of them spotted her and came rushing toward her.

    ¡°Mirna !¡± he said merrily.

    The others were quick to notice her. ¡°Mirna ! It''s Mirna !¡±

    ¡°Look, I can write my name with magic now !¡± one of them said, as he proceeded to demonstrate his claim. His name was indeed appearing out of thin air, as glowing letters of white light floated before him.

    ¡°Oh, that''s nice,¡± she praised, smiling. ¡°Me too, behold.¡± With a thought, her name flashed intensely with stylish characters made from mana. Her display of style got the children to whisper in awe among themselves. Hehehe, she snickered in her mind. Impressing kids is so easy.

    ¡°Hey, Mirna,¡± someone called out from behind. She turned to face the owner of the voice, the teacher. ¡°Vara was looking for you. Said there''s news from the continent.¡±

    She did her best to hide her surprise and excitement ¨C she was supposed to be the responsible person in charge of the village. But truly, she was not expecting to hear from him so soon. Well, there''s no guarantee it''s him, but I''ve the feeling I''m right.

    It had been almost two years since Azcheron had left the island with Anton Vardt. Some would have said it was a long time, that he should have contacted them much earlier, but Mirna and the other clansmen knew better than to trust Azcheron with such matters. She would have deemed herself lucky to receive a letter form his hand during the first decade following his departure.

    Actually, he did say something like that before leaving, didn''t he ? ¡°I''ll not send you letters, for you will be hearing about me and my deeds before you know it.¡± Sounds like something he''d say, at least.

    She strolled through the village and went into the temple. Inside, her mother was sitting at the grand table, with Aldaron, a few elders, and the recently appointed pigeon-master. This last person appearing here was something of an unusual occurrence ¨C not many pigeons could make it through the two months journey that separated the continent from the Rahal island.

    Yet here he was, and here it was. In front of the pigeon-master, on the table, a bird. Something''s amiss with this one, though, she realized, frowning.

    ¡°Ah, you''ve come,¡± her mother said.

    ¡°We were waiting for you,¡± Aldaron continued. ¡°Please sit.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she replied in a suspicious tone, reaching for her chair while her eyes were fixed on the pigeon. It was convulsing and making creaking noises. Its eyes were frenziedly darting in every direction, and from time to time, sparks of magic emanated from its body. ¡°What''s wrong with the bird ?¡± she finally dared to ask.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

    ¡°It''s dead,¡± the pigeon-master stated flatly.

    ¡°...I see,¡± she said, but she did not really see the evidence. ¡°Err... Why is it still moving, by the way ? And what''s with the leaking mana ?¡±

    ¡°The answer''s the same ¨C magical residues. Looks like the mainlanders have started to cast Manasprint on their messenger birds. Keeps the thing flying for who-knows-how-long, then it suddenly dies.¡±

    ¡°So that''s why this one managed to reach us.¡±

    They nodded. Vara then handed out a parchment to her daughter, and motioned for her to read it. Once Mirna was done, she sighed in relief. For a moment she feared that the bird had brought bad news, but it turned out to be the opposite. More or less.

    ¡°Is it reliable ? Do we know who sent it ?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Aldaron confirmed and pointed to the map of the continent that was nailed on one of the walls. ¡°The parchment comes from an old clansman that settled in Longhills decades ago. He signed it. The contents of the message itself, he got from our dear old Anton, in the capital.¡±

    She glanced at the bottom of the paper, noticing there was one last paragraph she hadn''t read. It said what Aldaron had just explained, basically. ¡°Right.¡±

    ¡°Well, it''s good news anyway,¡± Vara said. Hearing that, Mirna made an uneasy expression.

    ¡°I guess... though from what he says, Anton''s angry with Azcheron.¡±

    One of the elders scoffed. ¡°Bah ! They''ll patch things up like always. I wouldn''t worry about that.¡±

    ¡°Nng...¡± She read once more the message. Yep, she eventually concluded. It does say explicitly that Azcheron has become both a hero and an evil mass-murderer, and that Anton thinks he needs to be taught a lesson before it gets worse...

    ¡°What to do...¡± she muttered. What were they supposed to make of this message anyway ? Was Anton merely informing the clan of Azcheron''s well-being, using the opportunity to complain about him like usual ? Or was he requesting something of them ? Also, what did he mean by ''mass-murderer'' ? As far as Mirna knew, Azcheron killing a couple of people wasn''t anything to be surprised about. It was probably justified, in any case. The Saint wasn''t a lunatic murdering people for no reason.

    Aldaron cleared his throat and spoke up. ¡°Well, as for me...¡± Yes, that''s right. You should decide. You''re his father, you know best what to do in such a situation. ¡°I don''t have an opinion on the matter. I think Mirna should decide, as she''s the acting chief of the clan.¡±

    You miserable bastard. Shoving all the decision-making in my direction.

    Her mother betrayed her too. ¡°I agree.¡± And so did the nodding elders. The pigeon-master was busy studying the bird''s cadaver and did not seem to care. ¡°It''s up to you,¡± Vara concluded.

    Or so she said. They were all making faces that looked like they strongly wanted her to go. To be fair, she could understand. It would be the occasion for the two of them to finally decide on the clan''s future. If he has become an Imperial hero, it means he''s serious about leaving the position of chief to me. But he had already confirmed all that. Azcheron never led them to believe he''d come back one day, on the contrary. The only thing that stopped him from straight out handing out the job to Mirna was tradition, nothing else.

    Was there really any need to see him, in that case ?

    But then there was the matter with Anton. The way the old mage puts it, it doesn''t sound like something too important. After all, there would always be things that the clansmen did that would annoy to hell out of Anton. But still, mass-murder ? It wasn''t as if Mirna feared that Azcheron had turned into a criminal, but she was interested. What was it all about ? She had to reckon it made her curious.

    They still had the ship they had... inherited form lord Koven Sarlas, and the clan had properly maintained it all this time. Not that many of them knew anything about sailing, but some did ¨C the ones who had already travelled with Anton a few times. Mirna believed it could work. If not, then what ? They would be delayed or they would end up somewhere else than in Longhills. At worst, they''d sink, maybe. Nothing Rahal mages couldn''t handle ¨C it would probably be easy to make a raft out of a sinking boat.

    Well, I hope, at least. Maybe I''m a bit too optimistic ?

    She glanced over the people gathered in the room, just to make sure. Yep, no doubt. They were all waiting for her answer, and they had already decided what it was they wanted to hear. She let out an exasperated sigh. What''s it to you guys anyway ? ...Pft, whatever.

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said as she got up and slammed her palms on the table. ¡°Mother will come with me, in the meantime Aldaron will be in charge. It should take three months to go there, and three more months to return.¡±

    ¡°A wise decision,¡± an elder said.

    ¡°The wisest decision,¡± another one added.

    ¡°Mirna the Wise, is what we''ll call you,¡± Aldaron declared seriously.

    I''m pretty sure it''s not wise at all to go on this journey unprepared, but oh well. I won''t bother arguing with them.

    A few days later, they departed for Longhills. Surprisingly, perhaps, the journey went without any issue. That was probably because Mirna used wind and water magic to prevent any trouble from happening. In the end, they almost only had to follow the compass, as the waves calmed down unnaturally and the wind always came from the proper direction. On their way, they called in at the islands near the coast, where they heard more tales about Azcheron''s glory.

    There was never any mention of his alleged murder spree, though he was sometimes accused of being an opportunist. Word about him betraying the Empire during the war in the north, only to be graced by the Emperor himself after he helped saving the capital from dragons. Needless to say, Mirna barely understood anything, since she didn''t exactly care about the affairs of the Empire.

    Looks like we have a lot of catching up to do, she thought as the continent could be seen in the horizon, after a little more than two months of sailing. In the end, I guess Anton was exaggerating again.