“Of course, you know what lay in the north of the Empire – the Heretic Free Cities. These are places of debauchery and vice, what else can you expect from towns inhabited by demons ? They pray to old gods that could entirely turn out to be akin to the abominations slumbering in ruins. Who knows what kind of rituals they perform to quench those gods' thirst for blood and souls. Word is that it's the demons themselves that feast on the bodies and minds of humans, and so that would explain why they look so fat.

-anonymous citizen”

* * *

Azcheron

Azcheron closed the heavy iron door behind him, before facing Erin and Anton. They were in the underground levels of the Academy.

Here, students and professors alike were provided with sturdy, secretive rooms where they could try out unsafe magic in all safety. Or so they said. The room wouldn't save the caster if he mistakenly created a pillar of magma above him, nor would the Academy be protected if someone accidentally spawned a flying meteor here. Such a thing apparently happened long ago. Well, in the end it was truly an abominable incitation to dabble in forbidden magic, but evidently the mages here would try their dangerous spells regardless, even if there was no room purveyed for this. Azcheron was, unsurprisingly, guilty of such actions. So at least with specially designed rooms they could limit the damage.

Of course, Azcheron wasn't here to try out magic. He'd do that in courtyards or other public places like always. He felt that experimenting alone in such gloomy rooms would be a absurd idea, because then people couldn't see him and gossip about him.

Though in a way, he was still experimenting with magic here. He was just doing something he wasn't supposed to do in this place. A dungeon or a cell in the Palace would have felt more appropriate for asking questions and whatnot to the legless assassin he captured, but he had to make do with the Academy's rooms.

“Do you have something ?” Erin inquired. Anton was frowning, probably not finding the method to his tastes.

Azcheron raised a blood covered finger.

“I've learned a lot about how healing magic can be used as a torture tool !”

“Not what I meant.” She closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

“Yes, yes, I know. Well, I honestly don't see why we even needed to question that guy. As I figured, lady Varymiel sent them. Interrogating him was pointless, because I was right, like always.”

“Yet you still did it,” Anton pointed out. Indeed, torturing people wasn't one of Azcheron's hobbies. But he had to make sure, and he couldn't risk missing on anything else.

“Yes, I still did it,” he replied coldly, then addressed Erin. “It also seems like their orders were to dispose of you if you were a hindrance.”

She raised a brow. “Are you sure ?”

“Hm. I still don't know whether your uncle had an hand in it, but I'd say it's unlikely. From what you and Darius told me, he'd want to avoid staining his reputation by being linked to something like that, and he'd rather not use manpower from other factions and be indebted to them.

“Hope you're right. Maybe he still planned for all this,” she concluded with a tinge of disbelief.

“In any case...” Anton said, “What do we do with him now ?”

Rumours about the corpses of assassins laying in the garden had already met the ears of every single person in the Academy. We could finish this one and put it among the others. What's another corpse in the pile, huh ?

“Well it's not like he can return to his employer anyway, now that he failed his mission.”

Erin scoffed. “I doubt he can even return anywhere with his missing legs.”

“Is it mercy to kill an assassin who lost his legs ?” the Saint wondered. “He'll never be able to do his job again, poor guy.”

“His job, assassinating people you mean ?” Erin retorted. “I think we'd do the world a favour by killing him.”

Anton interjected hastily. “Wait, wait, wait ! Is it already decided that he'll die ? Why are you so bent on killing him ?”

“Isn't it obvious ? Tell me Anton, you've known me for a long time. Remind me, what is the customary sentence for attacking me ?”

“...Beheading,” the scholar groaned.

“Yes ! Indeed ! Beheading, beheading ! Or perhaps you'd suggest another way ? I'm open to suggestions. Hanging ? Dismembering ? I know Mirna likes dismembering, though I find it rather unclean.”

“And the job's already half done,” Erin casually added.

Anton eventually resigned himself. “Nnnngg... Just give the damn guy a quick death, will you ? Then we'll toss him with the others.” On these words, he left, taking the stairs leading to the surface.

Azcheron glanced at Erin, who simply shrugged. He then turned back, opened the door of the room and in a thought, ended the prisoner’s life.

* * *

People were running around in every corner of the Academy, gossiping about the cloaked cadavers in the high garden, going on a large 'treasure hunt' – it seemed someone had encountered the headless body that fell somewhere from the tower, and people were now searching frenziedly for more corpses.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The whole situation made Azcheron chuckle.

“You seem awfully nonchalant about all this chaos,” Erin noticed as they walked in the corridors and dodged the crazy running students.

“Why wouldn't I be ?”

In truth, Azcheron wasn't as nonchalant and merry as he made it appear. A curious anger was creeping in his mind. It wasn't a burning, raging fire kind of anger. It was faint and dark, like a cold sharp blade waiting in its sheathe. A displeasure, that turned into frustration, and then disdain. Yes, he had expected this kind of consequences for his uproar at the Palace. Yes, he also had expected that Erin would get involved in said consequences. But now that it occurred, he didn't took it that well. He didn't appreciate his partner being treated as a mere 'hindrance' to get rid off. He didn't appreciate that people were still harassing her after all she went through.

“I don't know. You don't care about us being branded enemies of the crown ?”

Azcheron frowned. No, that wasn't it. Erin having enemies wasn't something that worried him. Not was it because he disliked Erin being endangered because of his own actions. That's not anything new. And this time it wasn't only his fault. More like, partly because of him, partly because of these Palace schemers. What would a cool hero say in such times ?

“I'll admit I take offence in them daring to raise a hand against my heroine.”

“Heroine ? I'm not a character from a story, you infinite imbecile.”

You will be, one day ! From my story.

“But if they want to play it like that, fine. It'll really be war.”

She squinted her eyes. “Azcheron ?”

“I'll kill the Emperor,” he said with a grin.

“...I don't know if that's necessary ?”

He ignored her and kept on an eerily happy tone. “I'll kill his descendants and his minions, I'll kill the spymasters, the guards, the mages, the assassins, I'll level the entire tower.”

“Do you plan on murdering every single person that could threaten me ?” she asked in a forced flat tone, as if she really didn't want to hear a positive answer. Alas...

“Yes, yes, if it comes to that. You are right. I'll kill everyone who'd think about threatening you, regardless if they're heroes or peasants. I'll kill your uncle if that's what it takes. I'm not belittling you or looking down on you. This is just another whim of mine.”

She looked at him for some time while they kept walking.

“Thank you, I guess ? But... you know, if it comes to that, I'll kill my uncle myself.”

“This conversation is getting strange,” Azcheron suddenly said. “If people hear us they will see us as sociopathic murderers.”

“Whose fault is that ?”

The Saint chuckled. Well, she was right. For now, there was no need to plot the demise of every single inhabitant of the Palace.

* * *

“All good then ?” Anton asked.

Two days later, Azcheron and Erin were at the north gates of the Capital. Anton, Darius and Tania were here to bid them farewell.

“Indeed. We have enough supplies and money for the trip. Should do,” Azcheron assured him as he stroke the neck of his horse. “I'll just have to learn how to use this creature.”

“Don't fall and break your finger or something,” Anton mocked, taking an imaginary revenge for his bootless misadventure.

“Very funny.”

Azcheron and Erin would ride on separate horses. Because the journey was long and tiring, one mount would have been too burdened, especially with all their luggage, so Erin insisted Azcheron should take this as an opportunity to learn how to ride. They wouldn't go with Jormas' caravan either. He had his own business, and there was the almost certainty that the north would soon get engulfed in war, so he'd never have accepted anyway.

They'd ride for a few months until they reached the border, then a few weeks until they arrived at the biggest cities. The Free Cities weren't as far as it seemed, but the terrain would get worse as they gradually advanced, and with all the military encampments, mercenaries and bandits lurking, they would have to take a few detours or make a few stops, depending on Azcheron's mood and whims. Especially on the other side of the border, where people from the Empire weren't exactly welcomed these days. They weren't expecting any trouble from the Imperial army, but just in case, Erin made the effort to go for a quick visit to her manor when she knew her uncle wouldn't be here, and took a few things she could use as diplomatic means.

There were also ancient ruins of cities and castles laying around the border, dating from the firsts wars between the Empire and the Free cities, centuries ago. Azcheron really wanted to check that out.

“Any idea which city you'll visit ?” Anton wondered. “If I need to send you a letter or anything... Not that it's very easy to communicate with the north right now, but I'll try.”

“Maybe Atharemine, it's supposed to be the largest city. Or Pelirise.”

Anton grunted in acknowledgement. No one bothered to ask what Azcheron planned to do in the north. He could end up enlisting in Karia's army, joining the northerners' side, acting like a spy for the Empire or just taking a walk amidst the chaos... Everything was a possibility, and Azcheron himself was still pondering what he'd do, aside from exploring ruins and visiting towns. They all kept silent for a few seconds, then Azcheron griped the reins of his horse.

“On that note, farewell.” He gave a slight nod to his friends and, fiercely looking at the horizon, signalled for his horse to depart. The mount started to move away, not in a straight line toward the gates, but still. A sideway glance allowed him to see Erin snickering. She gave a knight salute to their companions and followed after him, seizing the reins of Azcheron's mount and guiding both horses in their rightful path.

As they slowly rode on the north road because of Azcheron's dubious balance, caravans, carriages, other riders and walkers passed in both directions.

“There seem to be a lot of young people going north. Voluntary enlistment ?” the Saint asked Erin.

“I'm not sure. There's a lot of kids just wanting to see an army, a mercenary camp, or ancient ruins, these days. It's only going to get more busy up there. People taking part in the war preparations when they never held a sword before, guys journeying to explore the 'dreadful' north, everyone is trying accomplish something flashy, all because of the Empire's propaganda. ”

“Hmm... Adventurers of some sort, then.”

“You know about it ? Well, of course you do... Still, not the safest job there is,” she explained. “You'd have a better life by simply being a mercenary, at least you get a steady income that way.”

“Can't they organize themselves in a guild or something ? Like craftsmen and merchants ?”

“What, these impulsive, inexperienced brats ? It'd never work.”

Azcheron shrugged. “If you say so.”

And so, they departed for the northern border.

* * *

???

The posterity will note that some authors, in their version of Azcheron's legend, depicted the Saint joining an adventurer guild, starting at the lowest rank, mocked by all... until he climbed each level and ended up as a first class adventurer, with everyone's respect. With magic badges having the name and rank engraved, or something.

History tells of an entirely different truth : Azcheron didn't ever join an adventurer guild, for it didn't exist in his time. It should be mentioned that he did meet adventurers, and did explore ancient dungeons and temples, though the majority of people who accompanied him wouldn't ever go back in one of these ruins. They'd be either too traumatized, or too dead.

But the story of Azcheron's adventuring episodes shall be spoken another time – quite soon indeed – for the story of the northern campaign is now about to be told.