by Michael Sisa
Upon reaching the temple, General Rizel saw the numerous soldiers and mages moving about. Wounded knights from the Alvaren Army were being carried on portable beds, their armor torn and their bodies covered with numerous cuts and bruises. The unluckier ones were missing a limb or two.
“What… happened here?” General Rizel’s eyes swiveled left and right as he searched for someone in particular. “Where’s the old man? Where’s General Alvaren?” he almost snarled. The soldiers who heard him trembled, especially seeing the Ghost of the Empire’s enraged eyes.
One of the mages approached him. “General Alvaren’s at the central temple right now. He’s sustained some… injuries and our healers are currently doing their best to—”
General Rizel did not wait for the mage to finish explaining things to him. He quickly made his way to the central temple. Upon arrival, he saw half a dozen healers surrounding an unconscious old man.
“Alvaren,” General Rizel softly muttered the old man’s name. “What happened? Who did this to you? To your army?”
By battle prowess alone, General Alvaren exceeded General Rizel by a large margin. If the two of them fought, General Rizel would have no choice but to simply run away. There was no way he could defeat this monster who could nullify all forms of magic. His mist would be rendered useless in an instant the moment the old man activated his glaive.
He could not believe that this Magic Slayer, who’d been dubbed as a demon in the battlefield by his enemies, was reduced to this state after chasing after the Kingdom’s army. Furthermore, he was accompanied by his elite unit—the Magic Knights. Even in the Empire, the number of units that could rival the Alvaren Army could be counted on one hand.
“What happened?” he asked one of the surviving Magic Knights.
The Magic Knight also had numerous injuries, but he was in a far better condition than the rest of his comrades. The Magic Knight looked at his unconscious Lord, then turned to General Rizel. With a grim face, he recounted everything that transpired over the past several weeks. How they one-sidedly slaughtered the army led by Baron Zacharia. About how the Kingdom’s soldiers suddenly vanished from the map several days after that. The Alvaren Army’s arrival at Akash City. The arrows capable of striking the enemies from great distances, the severing disks. The duel between Lark Marcus and General Rizel. The living suits of armor.
General Rizel simply listened, dumbfounded, as the Magic Knight recounted the story. He had not encountered all of those things when he visited Akash City to observe the Kingdom’s army.
“And then it happened,” the Magic Knight trembled. “A burning mountain… two of them! They suddenly appeared in the sky and fell toward our army! The General did his best to save us, to let us escape! But he… but he…”
The Magic Knight, a veteran of countless wars, finally broke down. He silently sobbed. The trauma of the near-death experience, the sense of helplessness when faced against something capable of crushing the heavens, all of it came pouring into him like storm and he could no longer continue recounting the story.
General Rizel clenched his fist. The story of the Magic Knight was absurd, preposterous, but there had been numerous eyewitnesses to prove it.
But how was it possible? How could a single person cast a spell capable of leveling an entire city to the ground? That person would have to be on the same league as the leader of the Witches of Aravark.
No, even that necromancer wouldn’t be able to cast such a spell on her own.
General Rizel’s head started to throb. He sighed. “Summon all officers—captains and above. Tell them to gather in the Grand Hall two hours from now.”
The soldier next to him saluted. “Yes, General!”
General Rizel stared at the unconscious old man being treated by the mages. The Kingdom may suddenly attack them, at this time where they’re the most vulnerable.
“And tell the leader of the scouts to come to this temple. I need him to send messengers to the other Imperial Armies scattered around the region.”
“Understood!”
***
Another day had passed. After recovering his mana, Lark immediately resumed supervising the creation of the magic towers. Thousands of soldiers moved about, some carried stone blocks, logs, iron, while some chiseled the tower walls and engraved ores.
Right now, three towers were being built concurrently. Although he could probably build four at the same time, Lark did not want to be greedy and compromise the towers’ quality. He was only one person, and he knew there was a limit to his ability.
The first tower, located right at the Fifth District, was starting to gain height as days passed by. It was now four-stories tall; a little bit more and it would be the same height as the local Lord’s Castle. Right now, the first tower was becoming one of the main attractions in Akash. Numerous speculations about this unknown tower were spreading among the masses. There were stories circulating in taverns that this weapon was the one responsible for the meteors which decimated the Alvaren Army, but the most popular conjecture was the tower’s ability to fire elemental magic at their enemies, at an absurdly large distance, just like the towers seen in Wizzert City. There were rumors that the City of Magic secretly agreed to work with the royal family and that some of their magicians were secretly hiding in this city, supervising the creation of the magic towers.
“Ah, My Lord. I’ve finally found you.” Anandra walked toward Lark and bowed his head. “I’ve received reports from the scouts. There is movement from the nearby cities captured by the Empire. They also spotted several imperial soldiers building a garrison east from here, near the Furion Plains.”
“I know.” Lark did not take his eyes off the tower being built in front of him. He’d seen the group of soldiers, around fifteen of them, using the vision crystal this morning. “Tell the soldiers not to engage in battle. A mere garrison’s not enough to block this army if we decided to launch an all-out attack on Yorkshaire City. The Empire knows it too. That garrison’s simply there to monitor our movements, they’ll surely retreat the moment they spot our army.”
Lark stared at the incomplete tower. Even if the Empire monitored their every movement, it wouldn’t matter. The moment these seven towers were finished, any form of resistance in the Empire would be futile. Just imagining the one-sided massacre made Lark look forward to that day in anticipation.
It’s a shame that I wasn’t able to kill General Alvaren. But I’ll have my chance again later. This time, I’ll be the one holding the high ground.
Although the last battle ended in their victory, the entire battlefield was against Lark and his Blackstone Knights. There were also several times when he almost lost his life. Lark had no intention of letting such thing happen again. Ever since that battle, Lark started modifying the blueprints of the magic towers with General Alvaren’s maginus in mind.
As Anandra was giving his reports, a commotion broke out nearby.
Several men and women ran out of the nearby tavern, screaming for help. Upon seeing Lark, they begged, “Commander! The soldiers! Th-They’re dead!”
Lark looked calmly at the trembling woman, then at the tavern where she came from. By this time, several soldiers had surrounded the tavern, their swords unsheathed.
“What happened?” Lark asked the woman.
The woman shook her head. “I… I don’t know! The soldiers were eating and drinking, there had been a fistfight an hour ago, but that was it! B-But just a moment ago… the soldiers suddenly started vomiting and collapsed!”
Based on the story, it sounded like someone poisoned the soldiers. Lark decided to check and find out.
“Anandra, guard the perimeter. Capture anyone that comes out of the tavern.”
Anandra bowed. “Understood.”
Lark led the soldiers inside. Just like the woman said, the soldiers seated there had all dropped dead like flies. There was foam in their mouths and their eyes were rolled upward.
“Is it magic?” mumbled Lark.
He released a cloud of mana, invisible to non-magicians, and enveloped the entire tavern. He searched every nook and cranny but failed to find any traces of magic being used here.
He grabbed a fork and stabbed the half-eaten bread on one of the tables.
“The food, huh? It’s been poisoned.”
This was the conclusion he came to. A country as large as the Empire surely had spies planted in each of their neighboring Kingdoms. He would not be surprised if one of them had managed to infiltrate their ranks.
“I want a full recount of everything that happened here. I want a full list of all soldiers and non-combatants that entered this place since yesterday.”
One of his soldiers saluted. “Understood, Commander!”
This may look like a minor incident for now. But what if the culprit managed to poison all of their rations? The chance was low, since all of their supplies were closely guarded by soldiers, but it was not zero.
Lark mobilized several units to investigate and catch the culprit. But despite this, that very same night another similar incidence occurred. This time, it was on a far larger scale than before. Over a hundred soldiers died from drinking the water from the well. The poison used this time was apparently slow-acting, as it took several hours before the soldiers showed symptoms. And by that time, it was already too late for healers save them, as the poison had spread through their entire bodies.
The day after that they finally caught the culprit. A soldier who had been living in the Kingdom for half a decade. According to their investigations, the man was a comrade of the spies who tried burning the supplies several days ago. After seeing the defeat of the Alvaren Army, the man decided to act on his own accord and poison the rations of the Kingdom’s Army.
“Good work,” Lark praised the soldier who gave the report. “Send the man to the dungeon. He’ll be executed later in public to appease the rage of our soldiers. He’s killed over a hundred of our men, after all.”
“As you wish, Commander.”
“Ah, I heard that the one who caught the culprit this time was her? The leader of the supply team?”
The soldier nodded. “Yes, Commander. It seems that Lady Yzelle placed a trap—a magic I’m unfamiliar with—and captured the spy of the Empire.”
Lark rested his cheek on his palm as he listened to the soldier’s recount of the story, his eyes filled with interest. “Hoh, is that so? If I’m not mistaken, she’s also the one who prevented the supplies from burning. That attempted arson several days ago.”
Lark leaned back on his chair and look at the ceiling, his mind filled with various thoughts. “Summon the leader of the supply team. I wish to speak to her.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Several minutes after the soldier left, three loud knocks were heard at the door. A woman, probably in her mid-twenties, entered the room.
With refined movements usually seen in High Nobles, the woman bowed her head, her red hair partially covering half her face. “You called for me, Commander?”
For some reason, the woman’s eyes were filled with curiosity as she looked at Lark.
“Yzelle, I heard you were the one who apprehended the spy responsible for poisoning our soldiers,” said Lark. “And you’re also the one who caught the arsonists. You’re doing your job as the leader of the supply team very well. Honestly, I’m quite impressed.”
Chryselle smiled. “I’m honored by the compliments, Commander. But I’m only doing the job entrusted to me. It’ll be troublesome if we run out of rations while in the middle of enemy territory.”
Lark liked her attitude. She reminded him of Melody, the girl now dubbed as The Scholar, in Blackstone Town.
“If we survive this war, I’ll be sure to ask His Majesty to give you an appropriate reward,” Lark decided.
Chryselle paused and momentarily stared at Lark. She said slowly, “Commander, if you’ll allow me to be impertinent.”
Lark noticed the glint in the woman’s eyes.
“What is it?” he said.
“About the reward,” Chryselle carefully laid out her words, “Is it possible if I receive it from you instead?”
It was an unexpected request. Lark studied the woman’s face for a moment. Her eyes looked eager, as though she had been waiting for this exact moment.
“Are you sure about this?” Lark shot her a quizzical gaze. “I may be the Commander of the Third Army right now, but I’m nothing but the exiled second son of a Duke. Compared to me, His Majesty can surely grant you better rewards. I advise that you think about this carefully.”
Chryselle shook her head. “No, His Majesty cannot grant what I desire.”
Her voice was so firm that Lark knew she had already decided the moment this conversation began.
“Reward, huh?” Lark pondered for a moment. “Although some idiots may disagree, protecting the supplies not just once but twice was an incredible feat. As long as it is within my capacity, I will try to reward you appropriately.”
Like a child who have been granted her favorite toy, Chryselle smiled broadly, her eyes glimmering in anticipation. She unconsciously walked toward Lark, placed both her hands on the desk and leaned forward.
“Then…” She was clearly suppressing her excitement. “I want personal lessons! I want you to teach me magic! Even a month or two will do. Please!”
The request was one of the things Lark least expected. This woman was already proficient enough in magic, to the point that she was capable of creating magic wards in a short period of time. Although the wards were flawed when Lark tested them, it was still not something your everyday magician could cast.
Was this the reason why she chose to receive the reward from Lark himself instead of the King?
“I-I saw the battle with the Alvaren Army!” she added excitedly. “Commander, the burning mountains—it’s Grand Scale Magic, am I correct?”
Lark was about to reply when the door opened suddenly without warning. Two young men—Austen and George—entered Lark’s room.
“Master! You won’t believe it!” Austen ran toward Lark’s desk. “George and I have—”
Austen froze and his eyes widened upon seeing the red-haired woman. George, curious on what made the blabbermouth suddenly stop, also looked toward the woman’s direction. He, too, froze.
Chryselle tried covering her face with her hood, but it was too late. She realized she had been too careless.
“Y-You!” George screamed in horror while pointing a finger at her. “You’re that woman!”
VOLUME 4: CHAPTER 21
George slowly backed off, the memories of how his arm was twisted into unimaginable directions were still vivid in his mind. Seeing this woman, he was again reminded of the nightmare he experienced at Wizzert.
“W-What are you doing here?” George breathed.
Austen clenched his fists, ready to pounce the moment he saw even the slightest suspicious movement. Thankfully, the Young Lord was here. This single fact made the brothers somewhat at ease.
“Did you follow us all the way here? Damn thi—” Austen stopped the latter part of his statement.
Damn thief.
The last time they said those words to this woman, they were beaten to a pulp by her brother. Their bodies remembered the pain and they unconsciously stopped blurting the words out.
Chryselle looked at the pallid brothers, then at the bewildered Lark. She’d been stupid, she thought. She should have changed her appearance, or masked it at the very least. Now, the only two people who knew her real identity just so happened to see her, along with the commander.
She’d been too sheltered by the tower. She knew there was no other way out of this.
She breathed in deeply and sighed. She pulled down her hood, revealing a youthful face that resembled the elves’. Wavy red hair. Long, downcast eyelashes. She looked fragile, yet there was this indescribable strength seeping through those crimson eyes.
“I didn’t mean to deceive you,” she said
to the Commander. “And I plan on revealing my identity once things have calmed down.”
She cast a glance at the brothers. “Also, a proper apology.”
She sighed again, placed her hand on her chest and bowed. “Chryselle Vont Aria. Magician of Wizzert City. Fifth Elder of the Magic Tower.”
Lark’s eyes slowly grew wider. So, this was the reason that she felt familiar somehow. Her magic signature was really similar to those of the magicians’ in Wizzert City. Moreover, she was an Elder of the Magic City?
She bit her lip and said, “My brother did terrible things to your disciples.” She turned toward George and Austen. “On behalf of my brother, of Wizzert City... I’m really sorry.”
“V-Vont Aria?”
The words ‘magician of Wizzert’ and ‘Elder of the Magic Tower’ didn’t immediately register in George and Austen’s minds but they immediately froze hearing the words ‘Vont Aria.’
Just that name alone was enough to instill fear among the two of them. This was the first time they’d met a member of the Vont Family. And as though that wasn’t enough, this woman in front of them also belonged to the House Aria.
The Vont Family was among the richest families in the Kingdom. From Merchant Guilds, mercenary troops, even the navy, their influence spanned the entire Kingdom despite their lack of nobility. The House Aria, on the other hand, was a renowned family of magicians. Several Royal Court Magicians came from this bloodline, and the ruling class in Wizzert City belonged to their House.
For a moment, George and Austen had the urge to apologize instead.
Lark stared at Chryselle for a long time. He finally spoke, “Alecto. The bastard who broke the arms of my disciples. He’s your brother?” Lark’s voice was so monotonous that for a moment, Chryselle didn’t know how to react.
“Yes.”
“Did you come here for revenge?” said Lark. “That brother of yours. You probably know this, but I’m the one who repeatedly pummeled his annoying face to the ground.”
George and Austen looked at their master in bewilderment. Last time they asked, Lark denied being involved in the incident in the magic tower. But now, he easily admitted it in front of this woman.
