Chapter 18

Chapter 18

KNAVE CORBAL was not special—and, like all ordinary human beings, could never admit he was anything but special: Others just can’t see it, he thought.

Ten years ago, a few months after the chaos following the outbreak of daemons subsided, a man from a village under the Corbal family’s purview came bearing a strange offering. If Knave had not laid his eyes on it, he might have lived out his days unchanged, an ordinary nobleman of Relis.

“What is that? It looks disgusting,” said Corbal, when presented with what can only be described as the skull of an imp—the black surface of it glistened, as if it had been rolled in pitch, lacquered and shined to a finish.

“I agree, sir,” said Corbal’s elderly butler. “To think anyone would accept this as an heirloom piece… It is preposterous.”

The butler was right. Anyone with a shred of common sense would think the same. However, something about the strange object must have caught Corbal’s attention. He raised it closer to his face, peering into the skull’s empty eye sockets, where he saw, or thought he saw, a faint golden glint.

“If it’s something no one else would accept…” said Corbal slowly, “all the more reason to keep it, I say. It has more impact as a showpiece than a sculpture, or anything anyone else has.”

Once Corbal began to keep the skull in his bedroom, a small change came over him: He became able to perceive enmity in others’ glances. He became able to hear the voices of those talking behind his back.

It did not take long for that small change to have a significant effect on his psyche.

By the third day, Corbal viewed humanity as nothing more than a conglomeration of malice bent on mocking him. By the seventh, he began offering the skull his own blood. By the tenth, he welcomed a daemonist bishop into his home.

“I knew you, of all people, would understand the grave importance of our cause,” said the bishop.

“Yes… We must eradicate those senseless, disgusting creatures at any cost,” Corbal replied. “Humanity has no place in Sedia.”

The ominous bishop was the one who’d sent the daemon skull to Corbal. He was completely shaved, from head to toe, and had served as the chief of a small village on Corbal’s land. By the time the skull arrived at Corbal’s estate, he had converted the entire village to daemonism.

“But you must not be hasty,” cautioned the bishop. “We do not yet have enough power to bring about humanity’s extinction. That is why I want you to secure support for our cause in Relis.”

“Consider it done. Before the truth was revealed to me, my only wish in life was to live comfortably. But no longer. I will spare no effort to drag those despicable merchants out of power.”

“Then I hope you will find these women useful.”

The bishop gave Corbal five dark elf assassins. He had not procured them himself, but received them from daemonists higher up in the power structure.

Corbal used the elves to expand the reach of his influence in the city, assassinating more than a dozen politicians. He was told the elves were incapable of reaching their true potential, a consequence of the method used to brainwash them, but this made no difference to Corbal. In his eyes, they were exceptional. Even the Rogues’ Guild was unable to trace the assassinations back to him. However, it still took ten years before Corbal was able to rise to the top of the nobles’ faction, the only other faction in the city that could stand toe to toe with the merchants. During that time, he led all of his servants, including his butler, into the arms of the daemonist cult.

As instructed by the bishop, Corbal held a daemonist ceremony every month. Without fail, countless bones from the countless humans he sacrificed filled the bottom of the underground lake beneath his estate.

Everything was going according to plan—until a few days ago.

It happened just as Corbal was making plans to finally get rid of Zatow Brauze, one of the worst thorns in his side. A man had appeared who, with some trickery he called magic, was able to easily destroy a daemon nest. It made Corbal furious. Such a man should not be allowed to exist! he fumed.

“We must defeat Geo Margilus at any cost,” said the bishop, who had returned from his village to report on the matter.

“Yes, I know that well. Destroying those who threaten daemons is our highest calling,” Corbal replied.

Corbal and the bishop hatched a plot. Their first opportunity to do away with him came when Margilus and the chairman scheduled a meeting. There was little for Corbal to gain politically from rushing an assassination without first ensuring the fallout was favorable to him, but as he reminded himself, his rise to power in Relis was only a means to an end, and not the end itself. The most favorable outcome would be for both Brauze and Margilus to die, but if only one died, the other could be framed for murder. Even if both survived somehow, the incident was likely to sow discord, which Corbal could take advantage of.

However, not only did the assassination attempt fail, when Corbal rushed to the scene to get a look at Margilus, he was shocked. This man who claimed to be a great magician wore equipment worthy of his title, but he himself did not look any different than an ordinary middle-aged man. Why was this Margilus so gifted when he was not? Corbal was furious.

With his fury fueling him, Corbal sought to trample over everything Margilus held dear. He ordered an attack on the merchant family Margilus was staying with, but that, too, ended in failure.

While Corbal was tearing his hair out over these failures, he received reports that a group of adventurers and city guards were combing Relis for information on daemonists.

In the beginning, Corbal did not let this bother him. It was not the first time he’d had to evade suspicion—he had deftly handled it many times before—but this time was different. His pursuers were more persistent than ever before. To make matters worse, he learned that the Rogues’ Guild had taken to the sewers to hunt for daemonists, and he knew they would not return empty-handed.

When he decided to take action, his efforts were foiled again and again, by the adventurers, by the city guards, and by the Rogues’ Guild besides.

Relis City is supposed to be mine to rule and destroy! he fumed. But now the city was at his heels, and he knew it was only a matter of time before his playground would become his cage.

However, it was far too late before he realized this inevitability. His most able pawns were already taken from him, and the city was overflowing with voices claiming he was a daemonist. His home was under constant surveillance; he could not take one step out of his mansion. Even people not involved in the effort had come to gawk.

As hard as it was to believe, his sources told him all of this was orchestrated by that damnable wizard, Margilus.

“Lord Corbal,” said the bishop. “We have no choice. We must begin the final ceremony.”

“That damn Margilus!” Corbal fumed. “Who does he think he is, coming here and spoiling everything I’ve worked for?!”

A crowd of people had gathered outside Corbal’s mansion, cheering and jeering. Corbal was backed into a corner now, and prematurely executing the final solution he and the bishop had worked so hard for seemed to be the only option left available to them.

“If only we had five more years to perfect the curse,” the bishop opined, “we could have resurrected a true djaevul…”

“How many hundreds of humans’ flesh and blood do you think we’ve sacrificed to it? It should be complete enough to decimate them.”

“Yes… Let us hope so,” said the bishop, gazing longingly at the daemon skull, where it sat on an altar—it had grown to five times the size it had been when Corbal first saw it.

The bishop knelt before the altar and spoke unholy words to the skull. In response, the skull began to shake. A yellow light glimmered in its eye sockets, growing stronger with every passing second.

At that moment, the door to the room flew open. A messenger relayed to Corbal that Geo Margilus was approaching, a contingent of city guards and a party of adventurers close behind.

***

Knave Corbal was not difficult to find. He had not left his home, a stately mansion in an upper-class residential district overlooking the city, for days—at least not according to the adventurers’ surveillance.

By the time my presence was requested, teams of adventurers, city guards, and rogues had already surrounded Corbal’s mansion. I left Reyha with the city guards and Sedam’s party accompanied me to the mansion.

Like the estates of other noblemen and wealthy merchants, Corbal’s mansion was surrounded by a high wall. The firmly shuttered gate was adorned with a crest displaying a sword and sail—the same one Reyha had described in her testimony. There was no sign or sound of anyone from beyond the gate—it almost seemed abandoned. In contrast, the square in front of the mansion was full of people.

“I never would have thought Lord Corbal would be in league with daemons…”

“But it does make sense, doesn’t it? I don’t know how we never questioned it before.”

“Do you think my wife’s passing had something to do with him…?”

In addition to the adventurers and guards I’d hired, many ordinary people had come to witness the confrontation.

The fact that Corbal has not shown himself, despite the commotion on his doorstep, I thought, either means he has given up, he has a secret passage he is using to escape, or…he may be preparing for a final stand. My intuition tells me it’s the last one… At least, that’s what the villain in a fantasy setting would do. If this were a TTRPG, I could guarantee it.

“Lord Wizard! Whenever you are ready, give the order and we’ll storm the gate.”

Seven city guards in full armor formed a line in front of me. Each wore full plate armor and was equipped with a pavise, flail, and crossbow.

Before we’d set out, I’d asked the captain of the guard to provide me with an elite unit of city guards to accompany me (although, ostensibly, I was accompanying them). As far as I could tell, they seemed fairly strong—at least compared to the Calbanera Knights.

“I am sorry for dragging you along with me when you’ve already done so much,” I said, turning to Sedam.

“Considering how much you have paid us up front, don’t mention it,” Sedam replied with a valiant grin.

Counting the seven guards, the six members of Sedam’s party, and me, our unit was fourteen people strong, not to mention the other groups positioned around the mansion to prevent anyone from escaping. All in all, it is a rather large group for the task, I thought, but I would rather be over-prepared.

“On a more serious note…” Sedam said, “If Corbal does not come willingly, I would not underestimate him.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“Corbal will have heard the rumors about you. Whatever his plan is, you can bet he will have methods for dealing with sorcerers.”

“What kind of methods do you think he’ll use?” I was a bit confused. What does sorcery have anything to do with me, anyway?

“The most common method to disable a sorcerer is Sympha Myude,” Clara responded, visibly irritated. “Corbal is rumored to have dabbled in sorcery.”

“Sympha… What?”

“It is an incantation that erases sound in a given area. Won’t that cause some problems for you?”

So, it’s like D&B’s Silence spell, I thought.

“Yes…that would be a problem.”

“I thought so,” said Clara. “Other measures include using light or darkness incantations to obstruct a sorcerer’s vision, and a sorcerer’s mana can be drained by use of materia or certain monsters as well.”

I shouldn’t be surprised, I thought. As powerful as sorcery is, it’s no wonder that people would research ways to counteract it… This could pose a problem. It just goes to show that even a Level 36 magic user can’t handle everything alone.

“If that sound-cancelling incantation is used on us, what do we do?” I asked.

“The best course of action is to move out of the affected area. Assuming Corbal’s sorcery is on par with a novice, he shouldn’t be able to affect a large area. One option for a group with multiple sorcerers is to spread them out so that both cannot be affected at once.”

So, even if one person is silenced, the other can still perform incantations or cast spells…

“In that case, Clara, can you and Torrad stay some distance away from me?” I asked.

“Why don’t we just split into two groups, my party as one group, and you and the guards as another?” Sedam suggested.

“That sounds like a plan,” Clara agreed.

Even if we split up, we’ll probably end up in the same place in the end, I thought, but it wasn’t a bad plan overall.

“With all the people gawking… I mean—with all of the witnesses, I think it best that you announce your entrance before we break down the door,” Clara said.

“Ugh… Yeah, I probably should…”

I knew I should take Clara’s advice, but I really wished I could avoid it.

The square in front of Corbal’s mansion was crowded with Relis citizens from all walks of life. Most had probably come to see the spectacle of me exacting revenge on Knave Corbal. Perhaps I had been a little too flagrant in the way I’d directed the investigation over the past few days; everyone in town seemed to know Corbal was a suspected daemonist. It did not help that the nature of Corbal’s alleged crimes was so extreme. The first rumors begat secondary rumors, which begat tertiary rumors, and on it went.

It was not only the onlookers who were curious—the city guards and adventurers, too, looked to me with anticipation, as if to say, “What will the great magician, destroyer of daemons’ nests, do here?”

“Before that, I want to say something to you two first,” I said quietly.

“What is it?” Sedam asked.

I turned to Sedam and Clara, my two young friends whom I had relied on ever since I arrived in Sedia, and declared:

“I’m no hero. I’m just an ordinary human being. Despite that, I’ve decided to fight to protect everyone from daemons.”

Both Clara and Sedam froze.

I knew what I said sounded like a line out of a terrible melodrama, and it was incredibly embarrassing to say, but I did not regret it. Instead of waiting to see whether they would laugh or just act exasperated, I quickly turned to the crowd.

“Beloved people of Relis! I am the wizard and magic user Geo Margilus.” I spoke in a loud voice, addressing the populace as cordially as I could. The crowd fell quiet. Compared to what I said before, I thought, this is a piece of cake.

“I apologize for making such a scene. As you all probably well know. I am here to accompany the city guard in its attempt to seek an audience with Baron Corbal, whom we have reason to believe is a daemonist.”

“It is true!”

“Do you think he’s going to get mad and cast meteors down on us?!”

“It’s the baron’s fault for being so aggressive… Now he’s really gone and done it…”

When I said the word “daemonist,” you could see the shiver sweep through the crowd. Every face was stricken with fear—and I knew a significant portion of that fear was directed at me. It reminded me of what had happened in Yulei, and I couldn’t help but feel a little depressed.

“Do not be afraid! As of now, Baron Corbal is merely suspected of being a daemonist. Once we have a proper word with him, it may turn out that we are mistaken. However, if Baron Corbal really is a daemonist…”

I had to urge myself to continue and power on through. As I paused, the crowd gulped, waiting on my next word.

“…I can promise you that we will capture him and protect you all, for I am the wizard Geo Margilus, enemy of daemons and all who align themselves with them! Uhh… Death to all daemons!”

I almost had it! I thought, as I had begun to get the hang of these speeches. If I had not stumbled over the end, the delivery would have been perfect.

“Lord Margilus!”

“We’re counting on you!”

The first who responded, in shouts and cheers, were the city guards and adventurers.

“Yeah!”

“Great magician!”

“Our hero!”

“Please protect my children from the daemons!”

After the first few shouts, the rest spread like wildfire. Soon everyone was cheering. Even though I was the one that had spurred the crowd on, I still felt uncomfortable about the attention.

“You’re starting to get the hang of this, Lord Magic User,” said Sedam.

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” said Clara.

“Uh… Thanks.”

I felt like a dimwitted child being over-enthusiastically praised by his parents—but I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me feel better. I’ll have to ask them about the other thing I said later on, I thought.

“He’s coming.”

Fijika’s calm voice was like a bucket of ice water thrown on my face. I’m getting flashbacks, I thought, feeling an ominous sense of déjà vu as I looked in the direction she was pointing.

The gate, which until that moment had been firmly shut, slowly began to open.

“I-It’s him!”

“It’s the baron!”

“The daemonist!”

The crowd assembled in the square erupted with shouts and cries. However, to my surprise, only a few people panicked or ran. That may have been because of the presence of so many guards and adventurers (as well as me, as much as I hate to admit it) acting as an emotional safety valve. Even with that safeguard, the crowd still took a few steps back, all focused on me and the gate.

“I wasn’t expecting him to come out and meet us,” I said, nodding as Sedam led his party away to put distance between us, just as we had planned.

“Into formation, everyone!” shouted the leader of my guard unit, upon which all seven guards raised their shields to form a defensive line in front of me.

Although it felt a little cowardly to stand in the back, behind the line of guards, I focused my attention on whoever or whatever would come out of that gate.

“It’s the baron…”

“Why is he in such a strange outfit?”

“I’m scared…”

The crowd murmured as seven shadowy figures emerged from the gate.

Of the seven, five were muscular strongmen who wore black cloth masks. They’d covered their faces completely, save for the small slits of their eyes. All of them brandished large, unsheathed swords. I suspected the man who stood in front of them, wearing a grotesque cloak decorated with skin and bones, was Corbal. Although he was probably the same age as me, he looked much older, thin as he was. Deep rings sank around his eyes. The final man was partially hidden behind the others, but he wore black robes and had a bald head.

“Welcome to my mansion, wizard Margilus and citizens of Relis!” The baron’s voice carried easily, much louder and clearer than mine.

I saw the guards in front of me shiver—I was sure I did the same. Although we had never met before, Corbal looked straight at me when he spoke.

“It’s nearly time for supper! I do hope they’re paying you overtime,” Corbal scoffed. “What business have you with Knave Corbal?”

Despite Corbal’s menacing look, sunken eyes, and oddly powerful voice, there was something enticing in his tone. So, this is what a daemonist is like, I thought.

I saw something golden flash out of the corner of my eye. It was Clara. She was gesturing at me from about ten meters away, where Sedam’s party was. I interpreted her gesture as, “Don’t just stand there and take it! Say something back!”

“Lord Corbal! It is a privilege to meet you. I am indeed Geo Margilus.”

“Is this the part where I say that I hope we shall get along swimmingly?” replied Corbal, his words dripping with sarcasm.

“Let us cut to the chase. Baron Corbal, we have reason to believe that you are engaged in daemon worship, and that you orchestrated an assassination attempt targeting the city council chairman and me. What say you?”

For what it was worth, I’d already received the go-ahead from the chairman and captain of the guard to detain Corbal even if he denied our allegations—but I no longer expected him to, not after he came out in that outfit and entourage. Then what’s his aim? I wondered.

“Well done. Well done. You are correct! I am a daemonist! Now, mage, disrupter of our long-awaited third brood event, I have only one thing to say to you. Die!”

“Eh?!” I almost choked on air.

Die.

It was obviously not the first time I had heard the word uttered as a command, and it was not the even first time someone had told me to die, but it was the first time I had ever witnessed someone mean it. The will behind the word’s malice was unlike the inorganic blaze of a daemon’s hatred. No, this patently human hate was closer, more intimate, more unsettling. I felt my heart stop, and then race. I shuddered.

“I… I refuse!”

As I clutched at my heart, I forced myself to respond. My confidence was an empty bluff, and I knew it, but I chose to wear this mask. A great and powerful magic user could not falter before mere words.

“Ready!” shouted the leader of my unit, interpreting my words as an okay to attack. “Fire!”

Three of the armored guards circled behind the other four and shot their crossbows. In that time, Sedam loosed two arrows of his own.

“Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!” Corbal roared. “Kill them so they cannot speak! So they cannot see! So they can never mock me again!”

“Arrghh!” The masked men roared as the arrows met their mark.

One took two arrows to the face and fell, but the others charged despite their wounds. Two rushed toward me and the other two rushed toward Sedam’s party.

“Shields up!”

At the leader’s command, three of the guards raised their shields. The two masked men swung their swords, but the defensive line held.

“Take this, you daemonists!”

The three guards in the back discarded their crossbows and drew swords from their sides, stabbing through the gap between the shields. Their teamwork was excellent.

The two masked men spewed blood from their wounds, but continued to swing their swords, even as they screamed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the two attacking Sedam’s group behaved similarly.

Something’s not right, I thought. I expected more.

My suspicion did not stem from real battle experience, but from experience playing games and reading fantasy novels—it was hard to explain, but something just felt off. In my unease, I turned my gaze to Corbal and his bald companion. Both remained at the gate.

“Djaevul!” the bald man shrieked.

The bald man had an eerie design painted on the front of his black robe, and his bald head and hairless face made him look almost reptilian. This reptilian man raised both of his arms and screamed…before thrusting a knife into his own neck. Only then did I realize the man’s eyes glowed the color of sullied gold.

At first, I did not know how to react. I was dumbfounded.

Then, with a cry that sounded like air being let of a balloon, the reptilian man fell forward in a shower of blood. Corbal stood by, unmoved.

Bam! Next came a sound like an explosion.

I turned toward the sound. It came from the square. A section of the pavement had been sent flying. Out of the hole that formed below (later I learned it was an entrance to the sewers) there extended a long, thick, black thing.

It looked like the leg of a giant crustacean. When I looked closer, the leg seemed to be formed out of bones.

“Kyu-gree! Kyu-gree!” A metallic screech erupted from the ground. I could not see exactly where it was coming from.

Some in the crowd began to scream.

“It’s a monster!”

“A daemon!”

After about three or four meters of leg extended out of the hole, a daemonic skull appeared, golden light shining from its eye sockets. The crowd was immediately overcome with panic, and both the guards and adventurers shouted as they tried to evacuate the people in the square.

Did the man commit suicide in order to resurrect that thing? I thought. He called it a djaevul… like a daemonic devil…or daemonic god? It looked like a cross between a giant shrimp and contorted crustacean blown up to the size of a city bus.

By measure of its unnaturalness and grotesquerie, the djaevul rivaled both the legion horde and the daemons’ nest. Made of countless bones, it squirmed all eight legs as it tried to rise to the surface. I was surprised by how calm I was. Although, That may be only because I’m so frightened I cannot even register my own fear, I thought.

“Falga Wilm!” Clara’s voice cut like a strong wind through the rotten air of the square, followed by her whip of fire, which shot out from the tip of her staff and tangled itself around the djaevul.

“Greee!” The daemon skull rattled and shrieked from its position on the back of the creature.

Djirk, Ted, and Torrad, the advance guard of Sedam’s party, were the first to rush toward the djaevul, and other groups of adventurers and guards in the square drew their weapons.

“Wh-what should we do, Lord Margilus?!” cried the leader of my guard unit.

“Hold your position and stand by for ten more seconds!”

The black masked men from before had all been defeated. I hesitated for a moment, but decided we should first deal with Corbal, as quickly as possible, and then face the monster.

I was kicking myself for my subconscious decision not to make my move as soon as Corbal showed himself earlier, but I could reflect on my mistake another day.

“Open, Gate of Mag—”

“Sympha Myude!”

As I began casting a spell to paralyze Corbal, he yelled out an incantation. I tried to ignore him and continue, but my imagined self evaporated, along with my inner world.

“…?! …!”

I tried to speak, but I could hear neither myself nor any of the guards. In fact, I could not hear anything at all from my immediate surroundings.

Silence! I thought.

I broke into a cold sweat. What do I do? What was I supposed to do if he cast Silence?! I still could not hear anything, but I saw Clara’s fire whip dissipate. Then, I suddenly remembered what she’d said: “The best course of action is to move out of the affected area.”

I waved my arms so that the guards would see me, and then pointed toward Corbal and ran.

How far away is Corbal? About ten meters away? I ran as fast as I could. Finally, I heard a voice break the silence.

“Kill them! Kill them so they can never mock me again!”

I dug my feet in and stopped. I had made it outside the curtain of Silence.

“Charge! Charge!” the leader of my unit shouted.

The guards charged, the leader in front, all of them brandishing their swords and flails.

Corbal was struck down mid-laugh. A splatter of blood flew from his head. The guards moved quickly to hold him down.

Once Corbal was down, I turned my attention back to Sedam’s party, which was still fighting the monster…and saw four shadows come at me from above.

Caught off guard, I stumbled.

These must be the dark elves we were not able to capture, I thought. This must be Corbal’s final trump card. He kept the assassins near the gate, planning to lure me within range of attack. The dark elves all held blades, which glimmered with a dull shine.

Did I cast Invincibility on myself today? I thought. If I did, is it still in effect? One of the elves was bound, suddenly, and struggled as she fell to the ground. That’s my invisible demon, but there’s still three more. Their knives and my thoughts both seemed to move in slow motion.

Reflexively, I raised my Staff of Wizardry in an attempt to block the attack, but that did nothing to stop them. Their knives would soon hit their marks—my throat and other vital organs.

“Master!”

I heard a husky feminine voice. A dark-skinned beast of a woman flashed in front of my eyes. Her long arms and legs flashed like lightning, striking the dark elves in the neck or stomach. At least that is what I thought. It all happened so fast I couldn’t follow everything with my eyes.

“Urgh?!”

“Guh?!”

“Oof!”

By the time she knelt in front of me, the three others lay sprawled out over the ground.

“Lord Margilus!”

“Are you alright?!”

Some of the guards who had been restraining Corbal noticed that something had happened and came running.

“Master! I went against your orders! Please punish me!”

Finally, I remembered who the lascivious woman in front of me was.

“Now’s not the time for that, Reyha!”

“Gyah!”

“Uwaah!”

For the ordinary guards and other adventuring parties, the djaevul was too much to handle. Their bravery was admirable, but a single sweep of the djaevul’s giant legs was enough to keep them down on the ground.

Only Sedam’s party was able to keep going.

“Gyaree! Gyuree!”

“This thing’s ridiculous!” shouted Ted.

“Fall back! Fall back!” yelled Djirk.

If the djaevul were to fully extend its legs, the full spread of the thing would probably be between ten and twenty meters in diameter. It was a nightmare of a creature to fight, but Sedam’s party was holding its own. Even so, Sedam’s arrows and Fijika’s throwing daggers did not appear to be dealing any damage. Even Clara’s sorcery seemed to be at its limit.

Djirk, Ted, and Torrad, under Sedam’s orders, continued to change their positions on the ground and keep drawing the djaevul’s attention. They raised their shields to deflect the djaevul’s arms, rolled over the ground, and dodged attacks by a hair’s breadth. Their tactic was working, but just watching made me break into a sweat.

“Lord Margilus! What should we do?!” cried the leader of my guard unit.

“Master. If you give the order, I will sacrifice myself to take down that monster.” That was Reyha—I ignored her.

“Guard me, and make sure nothing interrupts me this time,” I said.

I had already decided which spell to cast.

“Open, Gate of Magic. Reveal your form to me.”

I was relieved to hear my voice follow through. I’ve made it this far, I thought. No matter what happens to me now, I’ll make sure I finish the spell.

“Gyuree!”

“Ugh!”

“Djirk!”

The daemon skull on the back of the djaevul opened its mouth and shot out what looked like thorns. One of the thorns, about the size of a short sword, cut into Djirk’s thigh. Ted raised his shield to protect Djirk, but one of the djaevul’s legs struck him to the ground.

My imagined self traipsed through the Gate of Magic and down the spiral staircase to the sixth level.

“As a consequence of this spell, one target will be obliterated.”

The spellbook on the bookrest transformed into one black and one white ten-sided die, both of which came to rest in my hand. If I fumble this, I thought, someone may die before I can cast another spell.

“Please…” I said, gripping the dice, and rolled.

The dice clattered across the surface of the bookrest, and the white die, which represented the tens’ digit landed on 0. If the black die also landed on 0, the roll would be 100…a fumble.

The black die came to a stop.

“That was damn close, but it’s a 9! Destruction!” My imagined and actual selves cried out in unison, and the spell was complete.

A small white ball of light formed at the tip of my staff. I glared and thrust it forward—the light shot off at the rampaging djaevul. It vanished from sight, absorbed within the monster’s form.

I took a deep breath.

“Gye?!”

The giant, eight-legged creature began to break apart from the inside out.

There was no explosion, no blast of heat. It was as if someone had smashed an ice statue with a giant hammer. First, the djaevul shattered into dozens of fragments, which then split into thousands of smaller pieces, all of them ultimately dissolving away into nothingness.

“Wh-what happened?”

“The monster just…”

“I-It turned to dust…”

Everyone in the square: the people who had been fleeing, the guards, and even Sedam’s party; they all stood silent, dumbfounded.

In the silent square, I clung to my Staff of Wizardry, completely worn out.

“That was exhausting…”

***

By his own admission, Corbal was arrested for the crime of being a daemonist. In the aftermath of the investigation, the reptilian man and that strange creature were only partially identified. I pitied the victims of all of their evil actions, but perhaps we were able to offer some comfort to their families in that we were able to recover some of their remains. Corbal, meanwhile, continued to face a stern interrogation into the nature of his deeds.

The four dark elf assassins were all younger members of Reyha’s tribe. As I suspected, they had golden eyes and vacant expressions upon their capture, so I used Curse Break to return them to normal. Unfortunately, like Reyha, they all designated me as their master, and pledged eternal fealty to me.

Reyha had them convinced that I was their Olry, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Despite the circumstances, I remained committed to having them all face trial before the city.

In the meantime, awaiting the dark elves’ trial date, I met with the Sorcerers’ Guild and Copiers’ Guild to procure the materials I would need to make a copy of my spellbook. I also went about hiring staff for Castle Getaeus, so the days went by quickly. While I busied myself, dozens of other nobles and merchants were arrested in connection with Corbal’s crimes. Furthermore, it came to light that an entire village had been converted to daemonism, shocking everyone involved in the investigation.

As more and more details were uncovered, it became clear that the dark elves had been used broadly and often by the daemonists to do their dirty work. In other words, as the date of the trial approached, more and more evidence mounted against Reyha and the other elves, which made my heart feel heavy.

However, when the day of the trial finally came, I learned that Sedia’s justice system was completely different from what I had expected.

The trial was held in the large square in front of the city hall.

I sat facing the judge, and jurors sat on either side of him. The captain of the guard, serving as the public prosecutor, stood to my right. The five dark elf defendants and their lawyers sat to my left.

That much was ordinary, but it didn’t feel at all like I was attending a trial—there was none of the grave or solemn atmosphere you would normally associate with any kind of legal proceedings. It felt more like a festival. The square was filled with spectators, and the crowd flowed over and into the streets and canals.

My role in the trial was that of a guarantor. Although the result of the trial was determined by a majority vote among the jury, I soon learned that the guarantor held the largest sway over the jury’s decision—and it was less of a matter of what the guarantor said and more who he or she was. If the guarantor for a defendant was someone well respected and trusted by people (and by extension those who would make up the jury in a trial), it was understood that the defendant was also someone worthy of their trust. It was hard to call such a system fair, but for a world without scientific tests for incontrovertible evidence or universal human rights…it could be worse. As a system that utilized existing relationships of trust, it did make some sense as a method of keeping the peace and minimizing disputes.

In the end, as I was the most famous and well-trusted person in Relis at the time (at least, according to my sources), there was no question that both Reyha and the other dark elves would get off scot-free.

Neither the chairman nor the captain of the guard had any interest in holding on to a group as problematic as those five dark elves. From their perspective, the task of detaining them would be more trouble than it was worth; on the flip side, they could frame the lenience of the trial as a way of doing me a favor.

“And so,” I said, wrapping up the statement I was given to read, “these dark elves were under the control of a wicked sorcery of the daemonists. I dispelled this sorcery, and guarantee that these elves will be good citizens.”

“That’s right!”

“Let’s give it up for Margilus! Our savior Margilus!”

Every time I spoke, cheers erupted from the spectators. Fighting daemonists and a djaevul in front of a large crowd of people, it turns out, had a huge positive effect on my popularity. Although the turn of events was unexpected, If this is the way Sedia’s laws work, I thought, then there is not much else I can do but accept it.

Once my part to play in the script was over, the judge cried out: “I will now announce the verdict! Due to a unanimous consensus from the jury, all of the defendants are acquitted of all charges!”

“Master!”

As soon as the judge declared the dark elves’ innocence, they shed their handcuffs as if they were loose gloves and knelt before me. My original plan to give the elves time to rethink their decision to serve me had been swept away like a cloud on a windy day…

“We cannot thank you enough for advocating for us,” said Reyha.

“From now on, like sister Reyhanalka, we, too, will serve you as your Si,” said one of the other four.

There was much fanfare, with cheering spectators accompanied by the sounding of trumpets and throwing of confetti, but I was troubled. What am I going to do now? I thought, breaking out in a cold sweat. I could not deny that I liked the idea of several beautiful women waiting on me hand and foot, but in a practical sense, how was I going to manage the lives of five other people? Forty-two years of single life has not prepared me to take on five dependents…

Well, what’s done is done, I thought. It wasn’t as if I could just toss them to the winds. For the time being, at least, I would have to accept that our fates would be intertwined.

After all, I was sure there were bereaved families of the dark elves’ victims still in Relis. Now that an official atonement for the elves’ actions was out of the question, I had no choice but to take charge of their penance by using them to help protect the city. If possible, I thought, I should find a way to pay reparations to the bereaved families through the city council. That way, I might be able to quell any soured feelings that remain over the result of this trial…

However, the day was not over yet. Soon after the trial ended, Chairman Brauze came to me and announced I would be attending a parade in celebration of the daemonists’ defeat.

“Lord Margilus!”

“Our hero, the great magician!”

“All hail Lord Margilus! Savior of Relis!”

“Sedam!”

“Clara!”

I was seated on a large riverboat decorated with dazzling flowers, flags, and lanterns. It felt like I was riding in the back of an open convertible decked out for a street parade. Both shores of the canal and the intermittent bridges were packed with spectators, who threw flowers and confetti as they cheered and drank wine.

Sedam and the four other members of his standard party stood at the front of the ship. As they were some of the finest adventurers in Relis, they, too, were popular. Their fans called out to them by name.

Reyha sat to my right and Clara to my left. I suggested to Brauze that Clara should be at the front with the rest of Sedam’s party, but his response was that I would look better flanked by two beautiful women, and he would not be convinced otherwise. The other four dark elves sat in a circle around us, matter-of-factly.

At first, Clara made a fuss about sitting beside me, but as soon as we were on the ship, she was all smiles and waved to the people with the elegance you would expect from a nobleman’s daughter. On the other hand, Reyha’s demeanor could be accurately described as enthusiastically on high alert. Her lavender eyes bespoke a stern determination to not let anyone who might threaten me come near, but she also looked proud at the fact that her master was the subject of so much praise.

I, of course, had a strained expression on my face, because I was very uncomfortable.

“I’m really not cut out for this…” I grumbled.

“Considering what you want to do, things like this are necessary, you know?” Clara spoke with a rare tinge of concern.

“Really? This?”

“Most of the people of this city have the fear of daemons so ingrained in them that they are afraid to sleep at night. Think of this as a way of helping them sleep soundly. That is one part of protecting everyone from daemons, am I wrong?”

The tone of Clara’s voice was gentle, but it had a backbone of steel. She was not about to let me forget that if I was going to wear this great magic user mask, keeping up the façade was an important part of the job.

“Mister Geo!”

It was Mora. I was surprised by how clearly I could pick her voice out of the crowd. When I turned toward it, I saw her leaning over the rail on a bridge, waving frantically at me.

As I waved back at Mora, I thought back to when I’d declared to myself that I would protect everyone.

I know it is foolish to take pride in a power you did not work to obtain yourself…but does that make it wrong to use whatever powers I have, earned or not, to reach for a higher purpose?

Though I did not have an answer to that question, I decided I would use my power.

If I had come to this world back when I was younger and admired the idea of being a hero and going on adventures, I thought, I would not hesitate like this. Twenty years since that time, my life has been nothing but hesitation.

“If you understand,” said Clara, falling back on her usual high-and-mighty mode of speech as she read my facial expression, “you had better puff out your chest and show some pride. Everyone is expecting that out of you.

“Including me,” she added, with a hint of embarrassment at the end.

“Well, this is a role I chose to play,” I conceded. “As you say, living up to others’ expectations is part of the job.”

As full of hesitation I am, with a little help from my friends, this forty-two-year-old man has made it this far, I thought, but if it were any easier, I might not have gained as much as I have from the journey. I expect there are some answers in this world that you cannot find without questioning yourself every step of the way.

In that case I thought. I have no choice but to continue on ahead, however hesitantly, no matter what this journey throws at me.

I stood and raised my Staff of Wizardry high into the air.