“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 – 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.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

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 – he would prove plenty of evil on his own –, nor had he ever been teleported away – he may have carelessly or deliberately teleported people away, though –, 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 – what would his tale be like, without it ? – for the story of his scandalous return to the capital is now about to be told.