A month passed. In that time tears were drawn, a hole was dug, and men were raised.

“What did your leader say?” asked the duke of Carline. Damon had graduated from being a mere tutor into the ambassador of the Tree sect to the duchy of Carline.

“We will not act right now,” said Damon in a somewhat authoritative voice. Playing diplomat suited him rather nicely. “You are to keep coordinating with the other dukes. We will intervene when we can cripple them. Of course, the finishing blow will be left to you.”

The duke didn’t reply, the change in the elf’s personality was sudden and his perception of him had been shattered. Especially as the weakest duke, he couldn’t push his luck, a sect capable of driving a king mad wasn’t something to mess with. “Then we will move out in a week,” said the duke and walked back to the mansion.

Damon, on the other hand, had an appointment with the head of the duke’s military to check how the situation was developing. The troops were currently stationed outside the city’s walls on the green pastures of the Carline fields.

#

The wind rolled through three-inch-tall grass. Bees buzzed about the small wildflowers which reflected purple, yellow, and orange light. Trees gave cover to food shelters and squirrel nut stores. The blue sky, so far away, both in time and space from the common man’s plight, did not weep nor even grow sombre. It was a beautiful day. The camp of strung hay and pinched cloth sported a few hundred men. Men who held steel and wore thick leather. These were the warriors of the duke and his vassals.

In the middle of the camp, nailed to the ground, a large tent fit for fifty men stood tall. Damon pushed away the cloth door without needing to be checked by the guards. His looks and position made for a man of nearly greater stature and more recognizable than the duke to the men who lived off dried meat and hard bread.

“Hello Tennito, how are the preparations going?” asked Damon to the duke’s second cousin and vassal with the rank of viscount.

“All the men-at-arms are ready. We’ll just need the peasant levies and we’ll be ready to meet the duke of Galvanno’s forces.”

Damon nodded. Although this world didn’t have phones, they did have telepathy which made for a large difference when it came to the world of arms. A noble without a subject with the telepathic ability would soon find himself left out of greater noble spheres, and a noble who lost the loyalty of his means of communication would soon find himself with an army behind his heels. That’s why there were methods of confirmation when dealing with great issues.

The tents woollen door spread open and in came a young boy around sixteen years of age. My lord, a message for you in provenance of the duke of Bilvedillo.

“Thank you,” said Tennito as he tapped the boy’s shoulder. “You did well and remember do the same during the war. Arrows may be shot, lances may be thrown; however, you must run with the wind.”

The boy smiled, turned around, and with great gusto ran with his lizard into the sun.

“Quite the words,” said Damon semi sarcastically.

“You seem like a decent person; however, I cannot expect a black mage to understand the human heart, or any heart at that.”

“Well, I think I understand them quite well, mechanically speaking.”

The viscount didn’t reply immediately, however, his brows didn’t paint the image of a pleased man. “The men who die over the bodies of children, the men who die running, the men who die crying, the men who die fighting, even the men who die pillaging. None of them are to be taken. They all belong to God; they all belong to him who gives us reprieve from outsiders, to him who lets us live in our own sorrow. They are not to be dirtied with black magic.” Tennito looked deep within Damon’s eyes. “Do I make myself clear? And this applies not only to you but all your rats.”

With this sudden hostility Damon didn’t know how to respond, however, to prevent utter humiliation he let words roll off his tongue. “You are none to tell me what to do. I did not plan to take any corpses, however, now I am greatly tempted. Did you forget why this civil war started? To let black mage’s practice their craft. Are you not having identity issues?”

Of course, Damon wouldn’t touch a human corpse. That was a bit too much for him; however, he didn’t like being talked down to. Especially when not even the duke dared say such words. Not that he’d let that pass either. Anyhow, this man was nothing but a viscount. He couldn’t do anything, especially when his family’s fortunes rested in his hands.

A blade appeared next to Damon’s throat.

“Repeat what you just said,” Tennito’s eyes were dead, his sword did not shake, and all that could be felt was a cold touch on Damon’s jugular.

Unwilling to end up like the king, Damon tried his best to salvage his reputation and simply smiled. Which perhaps made him feel good; however, it was a clear admission of defeat. Perhaps he had gotten a bit too cocky, he was only at the fourth level after all. Words did not work against mad men, and apparently neither did it work on leaders who cared for their men.

The blade was retracted from Damon’s throat and soon used to tear off the seal on the letter. Tennito took a second to read its contents and looked up to Damon.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Damon didn’t want to ask what was written after the last event. As such he stood there with his plastered-on smile.

Tennito hesitated a few more instants. However, this time it was his turn to yield. “There is a fortified town thirty kilometres away. It is under the management of a viscount who pledged loyalty to the duke of Carline. However, he has been bought by the first prince. We are to take it back.”

Damon knew that there weren’t many castles in this region as such, for them a fortified town was its equivalent. And although they probably wouldn’t need three times as many troops to seize it. The losses wouldn’t be small. “You want me to curse them?” asked Damon.

“Yes, weaken them as much as possible.”

Well, it seemed that this man only cared for his men. He probably wouldn’t oppose me if I were to harvest the enemies’ organs.

“Set forth now, I’ll send ten men of the mounted lizard division with you. We should arrive in five days. By then have at cast the curse. It only needs to weaken them. We will do the rest.”

#

Damon found his way to the stables the next day. Behind him a servant carried his bags filled with his work material.

“I presume you to be Damon ke Stolas,” said a woman in her forties. The wind easily blew away her thinning hair. “I am Regena Civili.”

Tennito had told him who would be escorting him to the fortified city. Regena Civili, a third cousin of the duke, belonged to another branch family. And was the mounted division’s commander until a few weeks ago when the duke appointed his eldest son. In all honesty Damon started to grow tired of the Carline’s. They seemed to have a hundred different families and a few thousand members. Perhaps this was required to ensure the apparition of talented individuals. After all magic and strength wasn’t inherited but random. As such the larger the family, the more talent you could have. However, he imagined it made for rather complicated family struggles he didn’t wish to wander into.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Regena Civili, I am indeed Damon ke Stolas. May our interactions be most cordial,” said Damon with a slight bow and large smile.

Regena wasn’t one to mince her words or time. “Then let us depart.”

The lizards departed and moved through rolling hills and dense forests. They reached the outskirts of the fortified city when the sun had just started to fall from its zenith. Clouds had started to form, and their shade chilled down the city’s surrounding area.

“Hand me my coat.” Damon ordered.

His servant, much obliged to serve his temporary lord quickly retrieved a thick cotton coat and helped Damon into it. Now warm, Damon could figure out how to accomplish his mission.

Before him stood three-meter-tall palisades. Around it plains stretched out for hundreds of meters without either streams, creeks, or wells which could be used to poison the city’s water supplies. Unfortunately, the people of this world, or at least this continent didn’t have magnifying glass so he couldn’t get a good sense of the defender’s awareness atop the walls lest he be shot with arrows or magic.

Unable to find a way to curse the defenders of the city, Damon got back onto his mount. “Regena, I will go on a scouting mission.

“I’ll send two escorts with you.”

Damon nodded, and they soon left while the others set up camp in a forest not too far from the city.

As the lizards walked on the uneven grounds, Damon tried to solve the issue at hand. If I can’t find a water way which connects with the cities water way, then can I dig deep enough until I reach the underground water reserves? But that probably wouldn’t be possible with level four magic, nor would it either be possible with level 6 magic. Then, could they infiltrate the city? Well, that might work; however, the enemy had no doubt spotted us. They wouldn’t let anyone enter anytime soon. Damon continued to rack his brains around the issue until his brain started to steam. That’s when a small gap appeared in the sky and a few rays of lights landed in his eyes. Fuck. Damon brought his hand up to the sky. The sky. Damon’s wings started to twitch under his skin. He would fly into the fort. He couldn’t imagine how useful this ability would be to him in the long run.

“Let’s go back,” said Damon to the two men.

They weren’t sure why they were returning so soon from the scouting mission; however, they wouldn’t question him.

#

“Give me the large bottle.” Ordered Damon. The servant pulled out a glass flask. It wasn’t transparent like the modern glassware, but it was a murky white. The curse liquid had been prepared by other black mages in the sect. His job was simply to cast the activation spell. As such, Damon set the flask down and started to cast a diuretic spell. Since the flask contained nearly three litres of the solution, he needed to cast the spell more than a couple dozen times.

“How will you curse them?” asked Regena who saw Damon’s actions.

Damon stared at the now-transparent liquid. “When the night sky is as pitch as soot I will move out,” said Damon. He didn’t know what brought about these dramatic words. Perhaps he had recently gone off the deep end when it came to playing his part as a black mage and sect member.

“I’ll send men to—”

“No, I’ll go myself. Do not interfere.” He had to at least get this through. If anyone saw his true form, he’d no doubt have to kill him. Even if it were to be his student.

“Very well. Then I’ll stay—”

“No, leave and do not let anyone enter a three-hundred-meter radius around here.” Although he could leave and transform into his true form a bit further away, he honestly wondered how far he could carry the container. He’d need all his strength to fly to the city.

Although Regena’s disagreement could be felt, she left the area.

Soon enough, the quarter moon rose and was covered by the clouds. Silky grey wings emerged out of Damon’s back. Feathers fluttered down while Damon’s wings beat against the air. The Cambion took flight.

From high above he could see the houses made of wood and stone. Men carrying Spears and swords wandered on the fortified the wall. And there, high above Damon searched for a well or pond from which the soldiers drank. Not too long after, still high above, Damon found a small burgundy covered well. Unfortunately, he won’t be able to drop the curse liquid directly and to it. He'd have to find a way to drop down unseen and unnoticed for him to poison the well. Thankfully as this was a castle guarded by a viscount. There probably weren’t mages strong enough to catch him before he finished his mission.

Damon set himself off the centre line in between the city and the moon as to not make a shadow in the sky. When he deemed himself away from the people’s eyes. He wrapped his wings around his torso and let gravity take him down. His long dark purplish hair fluttered in the wind and his clothes wrapped around his body. Down he came as fast as a falling missile. And just as he was about to land next to the well his wings opened, and a large gust of wind pushed dirt and stones a few metres away from the impact point. No doubt people soon show up. As such, he quickly poured down the liquid into the well and furiously beat his wings to launch back into the sky. The deed was done, no doubt some would later connect the dots; however, it would be too late.