Legend of the Arch Magus: Valor

by M Sisa

  And the boulders struck the retreating Lancaster Army.

  Hundreds of soldiers were crushed to death at once, their armors flattened out and their bodies turned into paste. The boulders splintered upon impact and impaled those that managed to dodge the initial attack.

  Even Lancaster did not manage to come out unscathed from the trap. His left shoulder was impaled by the splinters and the head of his horse was crushed by a flying rock.

  Lancaster had no choice but to dismount and hide behind a small crevice until the rain of boulders stopped. By the time the clouds of dust cleared up, a gruesome sight revealed itself. Lancaster shuddered upon seeing the pools of blood flowing down the ground, the crushed bodies and dismembered limbs. There were around thirty or forty soldiers who managed to miraculously survive, but all of them were also wounded, and some were unable to even stand up.

  Ranz and the rest of his men approached Lancaster. They all were looking at the survivors with eyes filled with mockery and disdain.

  “Ranz, since when?” Lancaster gnashed his teeth. He wanted to stab the damn bastard, but with a wounded body, he knew he would not be a match for the leader of the scouts.

  “I’ve been working for the Empire for more than a decade now,” said Ranz.

  Lancaster was stunned upon hearing this. Ranz started working for the Kelvin Duchy seven years ago. And it was only four years ago when he started serving Lancaster.

  Then, it meant that Ranz never truly ‘betrayed’ him. He had never been his soldier in the first place.

  “Sometimes, I regret working for the Kelvin Duchy. Maybe it would have been better if I infiltrated the House Marcus instead. Who would have known that the successor of the House Kelvin is this incompetent? How disappointing.”

  “Ranz!” Lancaster was about to draw his sword when a kick struck his wounded shoulder. He suppressed a scream of pain as his body rolled over the ground several times.

  “My Lord!”

  “Ranz! How could you do this to our Master!”

  The surviving soldiers formed a barricade around Lancaster. They all took out their weapons despite their wounded bodies.

  The Rizel Army chasing after them finally caught up.

  Ranz bowed down upon seeing the General of the Empire.

  “My Lord, it’s been a long time,” said Ranz.

  The old man with a missing arm smile upon seeing Ranz. He looked at Lancaster who was struggling to get up, and the soldiers shielding him.

  “Good work.” Rizel pulled out his sword and started approaching Lancaster and his men. “You’ll be assigned to a different Kingdom after this. Surely, you wouldn’t mind?”

  Ranz closed his eyes. “Of course. This faithful servant shall follow the Lord’s command.”

  Rizel’s figure blurred and moments after, several dozens of head flew into the air. More than half of the soldiers guarding Lancaster kneeled and fell down the ground, headless.

  Lancaster shuddered. General Rizel was missing an arm, but he was still the monster described to them during his stay in the military academy. This so-called relic of the past era was a monster who could slaughter several hundred soldiers on his own.

  And there’s General Alvaren.

  Two monsters – General Alvaren and General Rizel – were sent by the Empire for this war. For a moment, Lancaster doubted if the Kingdom would survive this ordeal. The enemies were simply too strong this time.

  To make matters worse, General Rizel was not only strong in combat – he was also a genius tactician.

  Who would have known that Ranz, his most trusted subordinate, was actually a dog of the Empire? Lancaster was sure that the Empire had also planted spies on the other Ducal Houses, and maybe even within the Royal Family.

  Shit. Damn it.

  “Kill me!” growled Lancaster. “Damn bastard! Just kill me already!”

  General Rizel looked at him with eyes filled with amusement. He chuckled, “Kill you?” His figure blurred once again and the remaining soldiers fell on the ground, headless. “Do I look that stupid to you?”

  General Rizel stabbed Lancaster’s thigh with his sword. Blood spurted out and Lancaster groaned and fell down on one knee.

  “You’re the successor to the House Kelvin. As long as we hold you captive, the Kelvin Army will not move out.”

  Lancaster smirked. “Even if you kill me, my father can easily choose another successor of the family. My father wouldn’t hesitate to abandon me.”

  “I know,” Rizel grinned. “But Duke Kelvin is a coward. He will surely grab this as the perfect excuse not to participate in the war.”

  Lancaster stiffened. He knew his father very well. He was sure that his father would really use this as an excuse to preserve their forces.

  “Tie him up,” said Rizel. Several soldiers immediately grabbed Lancaster and tied him up. “And send a message to the Capital. Tell them that we have taken Lancaster Kelvin captive.”

  ***

  The news of Lancaster’s defeat quickly spread within the Capital and the nearby cities of the Kingdom. Upon receiving the news of his son’s capture, Duke Kelvin immediately made an excuse not to send out his forces for war.

  King Alvis’ head throbbed at this sudden development. He had not expected that the capture of a single city – of a single individual – would cripple a large portion of their fighting prowess in an instant.

  Most of the military might of the Kingdom came from the three Ducal Houses. And now that one of them was using this incident as an excuse not to participate, they have literally lost almost a third of their overall forces.

  King Alvis could use the crown to force the other nobles to participate in the war, but it was a different matter for the Ducal Houses. Each of the three Dukes held power comparable to the Royal Family. If he antagonized one of them, now of all times, civil war might break out.

  After some contemplation, King Alvis made up his mind. He donned a plain shirt, removed all his accessories, and put on a dirty-looking cloak. He went towards the slum area, accompanied only by two of his most trusted guards.

  “Your Majesty, are you sure about this?” one of his guards whispered.

  Although the three of them were wearing dirty-looking clothes, the residents were still intently staring at their direction. Despite their disguise, the regal movements of King Alvis were easily seen by a discerning eye.

  “Stop asking questions and follow me,” the King whispered back. On his hand was a glass bead the size of an egg. Inside the glass bead was a pointer, which acted like a compass. No matter where they went, the pointer kept pointing to a certain direction.

  King Alvis managed to make contact with the Dwarven Kingdom, thanks to this artifact. And now, he was using this in hopes of sending a message to the Dwarven King.

  Thankfully, despite the constant stares, none of the residents of the slums bothered with them. The two guards the King brought with him smelled dangerous, deterring any malicious intent from befalling their group.

  Their group finally stopped in front of a shabby-looking bungalow. The broken door was haphazardly patched up with planks, and the glass of the windows had several cracks.

  After again checking the glass bead’s pointer, King Alvis was finally sure that this was the right place.

  He sent a signal to the two guards and they nodded back. King Alvis knocked on the door.

  There was no answer.

  “Maybe, no one’s home?” the King mumbled.

  For a moment, he was worried that their journey here was all for naught.

  The King knocked again. No answer.

  One of the guards grabbed the handle of the door and twisted it. To their surprise, the door creaked open. They stepped inside and dust flew about.

  King Alvis coughed several times.

  “Your Majesty—”

  “—I’m fine,” King Alvis waved his hand. “More importantly—”

  They all looked at the man sleeping on the bed. He was short, his height reach
ing only until the chest of King Alvis. He was snoring softly, mumbling incomprehensible words every now and then.

  The guards stared at the man in bewilderment, while King Alvis slowly smiled.

  Their journey was not in vain. The glass bead was right. There was indeed one – a point of contact.

  After the negotiations with the Dwarven Kingdom broke down, the previous dwarven envoy left the Kingdom. Luckily, the glass bead pointed the King to another member of the Dwarven race.

  “He’s drunk,” said one of the guards.

  Next to the bed were several empty bottles of alcohol.

  “Wake him up,” said the King.

  The guards walked up to the man and shook him up. Eventually, the snoring stopped and the man opened his eyes. Upon seeing the guards, the man jumped up and shrieked.

  “W-Who are you?!”

  The man looked around for any available weapons at his arsenal before realizing that there was none. Eventually, he decided to settle for the bottle of wine on the ground. He waved the bottle threateningly, his eyes swiveling between the guards and the silent King.

  The King stepped forward and signaled the guards to stand back. He pulled out the hood of his cloak and revealed his face.

  Upon seeing him, the man was baffled. His grip on his weapon – the wine bottle – loosened. “T-The King?” His voice was almost a whisper. “What is the King doing here?”

  The man could not comprehend what was happening. Why would such a powerful figure suddenly enter his abode? This pungent slum which reeked of the word ‘poverty.’

  The King flashed his kindest smile. “Sorry for intruding. We knocked several times, but no one was answering.”

  The man looked at the King, at the guards, then back. He was at a loss for words right now.

  “You’re a member of the Dwarven Race, aren’t you?” the King went straight to the point.

  Like a splash of cold water, this question removed the man from his stupor. He creased his brows after finally realizing what the King was here for.

  “I heard that the negotiations between the Kingdom and the Dwarves broke down.” The dwarf sat on his bed and put the wine bottle down. “I’m a nobody. It’s impossible for me to contact the Dwarven Kingdom.”

  Despite those words, the hope within the eyes of King Alvis did not vanish. This dwarf knew of the negotiations between King Alvis and the Dwarven Kingdom. Contrary to what he said just a while ago, there was no way he was just a nobody – only those within a considerable position would know about the negotiations several months ago.

  “If it’s impossible for you to contact the Dwarven Kingdom… then maybe you know someone who can?”

  The dwarf shook his head, his long brown beard moving along with it. “No. I don’t know anybody. Please! Get out!”

  The guards glared at the dwarf but King Alvis wordlessly told them to stand still, to stand back.

  “I see. It’s such a shame,” King Alvis sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find another dwarf to give this two-hundred-year-old wine.”

  King Alvis skillfully showed a small bottle of wine behind his cloak, then quickly hid it. The dwarf, upon seeing the red liquid sloshing inside, swallowed hard.

  “T-Two-hundred-year-old?!”

  King Alvis inwardly smiled upon seeing the flustered face of the dwarf. He slightly bowed his head, “We apologize for the intrusion. We’ll be on our way then.”

  King Alvis turned around and walked towards the door. The guards immediately followed suit.

  There was no hint of hesitation within those footsteps. The dwarf knew that if he did not stop these guys from leaving, they would really leave this place.

  The words ‘two-hundred-year-old wine’ kept resounding within the dwarf’s head. Even in the Dwarven Kingdom, such a precious bottle would be hard to find. Forget the cost. It was not something money could buy.

  “W-Wait!” the dwarf croaked the words out. “Please wait!”

  King Alvis halted. He prevented a smile from forming on his lips. With an unfazed, stoic face, he turned around and asked, “Yes?”

  “I was not lying when I said that I have no means of contacting the Kingdom,” said the dwarf in quick successions. “But I know someone who can!”

  The King gave out a practiced smile. “You know someone who can?”

  The dwarf nodded. “Yes. But—” He pointed at right side of the King’s cloak where the bottle was hidden. “—In exchange.”

  “—Of course,” the King nodded his head in understanding. “This bottle of wine. It will be yours.”

  Epilogue

  A week had passed since Lark returned to Blackstone Town. Today, Lark decided to proceed with the plan.

  He went to the basement of the Mansion and pushed open the metallic door of the underground chamber. The doors creaked and a foul stench assaulted him the moment the door was opened. Lark snapped his fingers and five small orbs of fire manifested themselves around him. They shot towards the torches latched on the walls, making them blaze into life. Shadows moved as the flames momentarily flickered.

  Lark crinkled his nose. The smell of rotting corpses filled the entire room. By now, almost all of the monster corpses from Lion City had been transferred here in this underground chamber – thousands of them – literally forming a small mountain of corpses. The vast underground chamber felt cramped and suffocating.

  “I can’t work like this.”

  Using silent magic, a translucent bubble made of water magic started encasing Lark’s head. It conveniently filtered out the horrible stench filling the entire room.

  Lark breathed out a sigh of relief, “Ah, that’s better.”

  He had not expected to miss the fresh air this soon after stepping inside the chamber. After crunching his neck, he grabbed the pouch sitting on the floor and poured down its contents while he walked. Slowly, the dusts poured from the pouch started forming a magic formation:

  A large magic circle with smaller magic formations at the periphery.

  Lark pointed his finger at the pile of corpses filling almost the entire of room. The mountain of corpses then quivered, and the dead bodies of monsters started floating one after another, each of them landing perfectly on the smaller magic circles.

  Next, Lark used gravity magic to lift one of the few dozens of the suits of armor standing at the corner of the room and placed it at the center of the magic circle. It took Lark a week to create these suits of armor using all the available iron ingots.

  Lark gazed at the sight before him. The suit of armor was inside the largest magic circle, while nine monster corpses surrounded it in all directions. A lot of time had passed since the monsters died. Hopefully, there would still be enough essence inside of them to extract.

  With Lark acting as its source of mana, the magic circle started to glow an azure hue. Numerous runes and symbols sprang into life and spun around, buzzing and flying like fireflies. In stark contrast, a malevolent aura started oozing out of the monster corpses, eventually forming a black haze which tried to overshadow the glowing runes. An eerie cry, which reminded Lark of death throes, could be heard in the room.

  The runes shattered like glass before disintegrating into particles of light. Along with it, the black haze also dissipated. The eerie cry vanished and silence returned to the room.

  And then the sound of metals clanking resounded. From inside the darkness of the suit of armor’s visor, yellow light flickered. It was staring straight at Lark.

  “If you acknowledge me as your master, kneel down.”

  The suit of armor groaned, the light inside its helm blazed even fiercer than before. It stomped its feet forward, grunted, then knelt down.

  Lark smiled at this. It was a success.

  At first, he was a bit worried that the essence from the dead monsters have totally faded away after more than a week had passed, but it seemed that using several dead bodies at once more than made up for that.

  Lark stared at the kneeling suit of armor. Unli
ke the bodies housing the essence of the male and female basilisks, the body of this one was similar to the ones knights normally used. Unless one probed really close, it would be hard to realize that it was nothing but a living suit of armor.

  Although the bodies housing the essence of the basilisks were ideal for battle and for developing the territory, they looked grotesque, almost similar to monsters. Lark was sure that if he brought an army of such grotesque-looking monsters, no city in the Kingdom would allow him entry.

  Unlike its predecessors – the so-called Guardians of Blackstone Town – this suit of armor was created using the essence of the gorilla-like monsters. Despite also being made of iron, the strength of this one was vastly different. It was, after all, created using the essence of monsters stronger than goblins.

  “Stand over there,” Lark pointed at the walls.

  The suit of armor stood up, walked towards the walls, and stood there like a stone statue.

  “I’ll be stuck in this place until evening, huh?” Lark wryly smiled.

  There were still mountains of corpses around him. Thankfully, his expanded mana pool would enable him to facilitate the ritual several times before finally running out of mana.

  ***

  While Lark was locking himself inside the underground chamber every day, creating more soldiers, the library continued its production of books. Despite the complexity of the machines used to mass produce the books written by Lark himself, the workers soon started grasping how to operate them. Their speed of production noticeably increased as time went by.

  By the second week since Lark’s return to Blackstone Town, thirty copies of ‘Principles of a Just Sovereign’ had already been printed out.

  Since almost everyone who were literate in the town were soldiers, the copies naturally fell into their hands. Every day after training, they were mandated to come to the library, grab a copy of the book, and read it.

  Qarat, the Captain of the soldiers, was coming home late every day because of this, but he did not mind it in the slightest. On the contrary, he felt privileged that such precious books were made available to mere commoners like them.