Kimbal Cornwall was not special. And yet, like every ordinary human, he clung to the notion that there was something uniquely significant about him, hidden beneath the surface of his mundane existence.
A decade had passed since the chaos wrought by the fiend outbreak had subsided. It was during those early post-chaos days that a man from one of the villages under the Cornwall family's jurisdiction arrived with a peculiar offering. Had Kimbal not laid eyes upon that bizarre object, he might have continued as an unremarkable noble of Vandaris.
"What is this? It looks repulsive," Cornwall remarked upon being presented with the skull of a curseling—a crimson-hued artifact that gleamed as if bathed in blood, a macabre work of art.
"I concur, sir," his elderly butler chimed in. "The idea of considering this an heirloom is preposterous."
The butler was right; any person of sound judgment would have concurred. Yet, something about this peculiar object intrigued Cornwall. He brought it closer to his face, peering into the hollow eye sockets. In the depths of those sockets, he perceived, or perhaps imagined, a faint, golden glimmer.
"If it's something that no one else would accept," Cornwall mused slowly, "then all the more reason to keep it. It has a unique impact, unlike any sculpture or artwork that others might possess."
With the skull now adorning his bedroom, Cornwall experienced a subtle shift in his perception. He became attuned to the malice in others' glances, heard the whispers behind his back. In a matter of days, he regarded humanity as a collective embodiment of malevolence, a cruel entity determined to mock him. By the end of the first week, he was offering his own blood to the skull, and within a month, he had welcomed a fiend Cult bishop into his abode.
"I knew you, above all others, would comprehend the grave significance of our cause," the bishop asserted.
"Yes, indeed. We must eradicate those loathsome, senseless creatures at any cost," Cornwall concurred. "Humanity has no place in Dravus."
The ominous bishop was the very person who had dispatched the fiend skull to Cornwall. He was a man entirely bereft of hair, from head to toe, who had once presided over a small village within Cornwall's domain. By the time the skull arrived at Cornwall's estate, the bishop had successfully converted the entire village to the cult's beliefs.
However, it was the bishop who gave Cornwall five dark elf assassins, courtesy of higher-ranking cultists. Cornwall cared little that their brainwashing had hindered their full potential. In his eyes, they were exceptional. They executed more than a dozen political assassinations, expanding Cornwall's influence within the city. Not even the Rogues' Guild could trace these killings back to him.
It took a decade for Cornwall to ascend to the upper echelons of the noble faction, the sole rival to the merchant faction's power in Vandaris. During this time, he ensnared all his servants, including his butler, in the cult's web.
As instructed by the bishop, Cornwall conducted monthly cult ceremonies. Beneath his estate lay an underground lake filled with countless human bones, a testament to his unwavering commitment.
Everything unfolded according to plan—until a few days ago.
It was then that an infuriating man emerged, one who claimed to be a formidable magician, capable of effortlessly vanquishing fiends' nests through the use of his peculiar magic. Cornwall seethed with jealousy. Such a man should not be allowed to exist!
"We must eliminate Emberus Blazeus Xandros at all costs," the bishop declared upon returning from his village.
"I am well aware. Eradicating those who pose a threat to fiends is our highest duty," Cornwall replied.
A plot was hatched to bring about Xandros's downfall. Their first opportunity came when Xandros and Chairman Budow arranged a meeting. Cornwall stood to gain little from a premature assassination. It was crucial to ensure that the aftermath favored him politically. Ideally, both Budow and Xandros would perish, but if only one met his end, the other could be framed for the murder. Even if both survived, the incident could sow discord that Cornwall could exploit.
But the assassination attempt not only failed, it revealed that Xandros, the man who called himself a great magician, looked no different from an ordinary middle-aged man. Cornwall's fury intensified. How could this Xandros, gifted with such powers, bear such an unremarkable appearance?
Driven by his rage, Cornwall resolved to destroy everything that mattered to Xandros. He ordered an attack on the merchant family sheltering Xandros, yet even that endeavor ended in failure.
As Cornwall grappled with his repeated setbacks, he received reports of adventurers and city guards intensifying their search for cultists within Vandaris.
Initially, Cornwall paid little heed to this development. He had evaded suspicion on numerous occasions before, but this time was different. His pursuers were relentless, and the Rogues' Guild had ventured into the sewers to hunt for cultists. It was only a matter of time before they succeeded.
When Cornwall decided to take action, his efforts were thwarted repeatedly—by adventurers, city guards, and the Rogues' Guild alike. Vandaris, once his dominion, had now become a perilous trap closing in on him.
Yet, it was too late when he realized the inexorable nature of his predicament. His most valuable pawns had been taken from him, and the city resonated with accusations of his cultist ties. His home was under constant surveillance, and he dared not venture outside. People had gathered to gawk at his downfall.
Worse yet, his sources informed him that Xandros, that loathsome wizard, was the mastermind behind his misery.
"That accursed Xandros!" Cornwall seethed. "Who does he think he is, coming here to ruin everything I've built?"
A clamoring crowd had assembled outside Cornwall's mansion, reveling in his downfall. Backed into a corner, he saw no alternative but to prematurely initiate the final, catastrophic ceremony that he and the bishop had orchestrated.
"If only we had five more years to perfect the curse," the bishop lamented, "we could have summoned an Underlord."
"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," the bishop murmured, his eyes fixed longingly on the fiend skull perched atop an altar. It had grown to five times the size it had been when Cornwall first laid eyes on it.
The bishop knelt reverently before the altar and uttered unholy incantations to the skull. In response, the skull began to tremble, and an eerie yellow light flickered in its eye sockets, steadily intensifying.
At that precise moment, the chamber's door burst open. A messenger hastily delivered the news to Cornwall: Emberus Blazeus Xandros was rapidly approaching, with city guards and a party of adventurers in tow.
***
Kimbal Cornwall was not elusive. According to the adventurers' surveillance, he had not left his opulent mansion in an upscale residential district, overlooking the city, for days.
By the time my presence was requested, teams of adventurers, city guards, and rogues had already formed a tight ring around Cornwall's mansion. I left Ravon under the watchful eyes of the city guards, and Petr's party joined me as we approached the mansion.
Like the estates of other nobles and affluent merchants, Cornwall's mansion was ensconced within a formidable wall. The imposing gate remained firmly shut, emblazoned with a crest bearing a sword and sail—the very same one Reyha had described in her testimony. There was no sign or sound emanating from beyond the gate; it appeared eerily deserted. In stark contrast, the square in front of the mansion thronged with curious onlookers.
"I never would have imagined Lord Cornwall consorting with fiends..."
"But it does make sense, doesn't it? I can't believe we never questioned it earlier."
"Do you think my wife's death had anything to do with him...?"
In addition to the adventurers and guards I had enlisted, a multitude of ordinary citizens had gathered to witness the unfolding events.
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The fact that Cornwall had yet to make an appearance, despite the tumult at his doorstep, suggested several possibilities: surrender, an escape through a concealed passage, or, more likely, a final stand. My intuition leaned toward the latter—the sort of maneuver a villain in a fantasy tale might employ. If this were a tabletop role-playing game, I could almost guarantee it.
"Lord Archmage! Whenever you're ready, just give the order, and we'll storm the gate," declared seven city guards clad in full plate armor, each wielding a pavise, flail, and crossbow.
Before our expedition, I had arranged for a select unit of elite city guards to accompany me, although ostensibly, I was accompanying them. They appeared to be quite formidable, especially when compared to the Adamant Knights.
"I apologize for involving you in this matter, especially when you've already done so much," I said, addressing Petr.
"Don't mention it, considering the generous payment you've provided up front," Petr replied with a confident smile.
Our group consisted of fourteen individuals, including the seven guards, the six members of Petr's party, and myself. Additional units were positioned around the mansion to prevent any escape attempts. It seemed like a substantial force for the task at hand, but I preferred to be over-prepared.
"On a more serious note..." Petr began, "if Cornwall doesn't come willingly, I wouldn't underestimate him."
"What makes you say that?" I inquired, intrigued.
"Cornwall will have heard the rumors about you. Whatever his plan is, you can be sure he'll have strategies in place for dealing with weavers."
"What kind of strategies are you anticipating?" I queried, my confusion mounting. What did weaving have to do with me in this context?
"The most common method to disable a weaver is Silentium," Clara responded, her irritation palpable. "Cornwall is rumored to have dabbled in weaving."
"Sil… What?"
"It's an incantation that erases sound in a given area. Won't that cause some problems for you?"
Silentium, I thought. It's akin to T&T's Silence spell.
"Yes… That would be a problem."
"I thought so," said Clara. "Other countermeasures include using light or darkness incantations to obstruct a weaver's vision, and a weaver's mana can be drained by certain items or specific monsters."
I shouldn't be surprised, I thought. Weaving is powerful, and it's only logical that people would seek ways to counter it. This could pose a problem; it emphasizes that even a Level 20 mage 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 Cornwall's weaving is on par with a novice, he shouldn't be able to affect a large area. One option for a group with multiple weavers is to spread them out so that both cannot be affected at once."
So, even if one person is silenced, the other can continue to perform incantations or cast spells...
"In that case, Eryn, can you and Philip stay some distance away from me?" I suggested.
"Why don't we just split into two groups, my party as one group, and you and the guards as another?" Petr proposed.
"That sounds like a plan," Eryn concurred.
Even if we split up, we'll probably converge on the same location eventually, I thought. Nevertheless, it's a well-conceived plan.
"With all the people gawking... I mean, with all the witnesses, I think it's best that you announce your entrance before we break down the door," Eryn suggested.
"Ugh... Yes, you're probably right."
I knew I should heed Eryn's advice, but I truly wished I could avoid it.
The square in front of Cornwall's mansion teemed with Vindaris citizens from diverse backgrounds. Most likely, they had come to witness the spectacle of my revenge against Kimbal Cornwall. Perhaps my recent investigation had been too conspicuous, for it seemed like the entire town knew of Cornwall's status as a suspected cultist. The heinous nature of his alleged crimes had amplified the spreading rumors exponentially.
Curiosity wasn't limited to the spectators; the city guards and adventurers also awaited my actions with anticipation, as if silently asking, "What will the great Archmage, destroyer of fiends' nests, do here?"
"Before that, I want to say something to both of you," I whispered.
"What is it?" Petr asked.
I turned to Petr and Eryn, two young friends I had leaned on since my arrival in Dravus, and declared:
"I'm no hero. I'm just an ordinary human being. Despite that, I've chosen to fight to protect everyone from fiends."
Both Eryn and Petr froze.
I knew my words might sound like a line from a cringe-worthy melodrama, and they embarrassed me deeply. Nevertheless, I harbored no regrets. Instead of waiting to see whether they would laugh or simply roll their eyes, I quickly shifted my attention to the crowd.
"Beloved people of Vindaris! I am the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros." I spoke loudly, addressing the crowd with as much cordiality as I could muster. The crowd fell silent, a far simpler task than the previous conversation.
"I apologize for the commotion. As most of you are aware, I am here to accompany the city guard in seeking an audience with Baron Cornwall, whom we have reason to suspect of being a cultist."
"It's true!"
"Think he'll rain meteors down on us in anger?!"
"The baron shouldn't have been so aggressive... He's really gone too far now..."
As soon as I uttered the word "cultist," a collective shiver ran through the crowd. Fear was etched on every face, and I knew a significant portion of that fear was directed at me. It reminded me of what had transpired in the village, and I couldn't help but feel a touch of melancholy.
"Fear not! At this moment, Baron Cornwall remains merely a suspect. After we engage in a proper dialogue, we may discover that our suspicions are unfounded. However, if it does indeed turn out that Baron Cornwall is a cultist..."
I forced myself to carry on, not allowing the weight of the situation to hold me back. As I paused, the crowd held its collective breath, waiting for my next words.
I cast the Thaumaturgy spell, and my voice reverberated like thunder across the assembly.
"The most common method to disable a weaver is Silentium," Clara responded, her irritation palpable. "Cornwall is rumored to have dabbled in weaving."
"Sil… What?"
"It's an incantation that erases sound in a given area. Won't that cause some problems for you?"
Silentium, I thought. It's akin to T&T's Silence spell.
"Yes… That would be a problem."
"I thought so," said Clara. "Other countermeasures include using light or darkness incantations to obstruct a weaver's vision, and a weaver's mana can be drained by certain items or specific monsters."
I shouldn't be surprised, I thought. Weaving is powerful, and it's only logical that people would seek ways to counter it. This could pose a problem; it emphasizes that even a Level 20 mage 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 Cornwall's weaving is on par with a novice, he shouldn't be able to affect a large area. One option for a group with multiple weavers is to spread them out so that both cannot be affected at once."
So, even if one person is silenced, the other can continue to perform incantations or cast spells...
"In that case, Eryn, can you and Philip stay some distance away from me?" I suggested.
"Why don't we just split into two groups, my party as one group, and you and the guards as another?" Petr proposed.
"That sounds like a plan," Eryn concurred.
Even if we split up, we'll probably converge on the same location eventually, I thought. Nevertheless, it's a well-conceived plan.
"With all the people gawking... I mean, with all the witnesses, I think it's best that you announce your entrance before we break down the door," Eryn suggested.
"Ugh... Yes, you're probably right."
I knew I should heed Eryn's advice, but I truly wished I could avoid it.
The square in front of Cornwall's mansion teemed with Vindaris citizens from diverse backgrounds. Most likely, they had come to witness the spectacle of my revenge against Kimbal Cornwall. Perhaps my recent investigation had been too conspicuous, for it seemed like the entire town knew of Cornwall's status as a suspected cultist. The heinous nature of his alleged crimes had amplified the spreading rumors exponentially.
Curiosity wasn't limited to the spectators; the city guards and adventurers also awaited my actions with anticipation, as if silently asking, "What will the great Archmage, destroyer of fiends' nests, do here?"
"Before that, I want to say something to both of you," I whispered.
"What is it?" Petr asked.
I turned to Petr and Eryn, two young friends I had leaned on since my arrival in Dravus, and declared:
"I'm no hero. I'm just an ordinary human being. Despite that, I've chosen to fight to protect everyone from fiends."
Both Eryn and Petr froze.
I knew my words might sound like a line from a cringe-worthy melodrama, and they embarrassed me deeply. Nevertheless, I harbored no regrets. Instead of waiting to see whether they would laugh or simply roll their eyes, I quickly shifted my attention to the crowd.
"Beloved people of Vindaris! I am the Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros." I spoke loudly, addressing the crowd with as much cordiality as I could muster. The crowd fell silent, a far simpler task than the previous conversation.
"I apologize for the commotion. As most of you are aware, I am here to accompany the city guard in seeking an audience with Baron Cornwall, whom we have reason to suspect of being a cultist."
"It's true!"
"Think he'll rain meteors down on us in anger?!"
"The baron shouldn't have been so aggressive... He's really gone too far now..."
As soon as I uttered the word "cultist," a collective shiver ran through the crowd. Fear was etched on every face, and I knew a significant portion of that fear was directed at me. It reminded me of what had transpired in the village, and I couldn't help but feel a touch of melancholy.
"Fear not! At this moment, Baron Cornwall remains merely a suspect. After we engage in a proper dialogue, we may discover that our suspicions are unfounded. However, if it does indeed turn out that Baron Cornwall is a cultist..."
I forced myself to carry on, not allowing the weight of the situation to hold me back. As I paused, the crowd held its collective breath, waiting for my next words.
I cast the Thaumaturgy spell, and my voice reverberated like thunder across the assembly.
"Let history remember this day, my fellow citizens of Vindaris, as the turning point in our struggle against the dark scourge that is the fiends! Ten years ago, these malevolent entities descended upon our beloved city, claiming the lives of hundreds and shrouding our world in shadow. But today, we stand united, an unbreakable phalanx against their encroaching darkness. Fear not, for it is not the might of a single Archmage that shall save us, but the strength of our indomitable spirit, bound together by a common purpose. The fiends may have dealt us a devastating blow, but they have underestimated our resolve! We are the defenders of this city, the guardians of hope, and together, we shall cast out these horrors, for we are the embodiment of humanity's unyielding spirit. So rally, brave souls, for today we march forward, not as individuals, but as a formidable force, and we shall show the fiends the meaning of true terror. In the name of Vindaris, I, Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, declare that our fight against these fiends is not a battle; it is a war, and it is a war we shall win! I can assure you that we will apprehend him and safeguard you all. For I am Archmage Emberus Blazeus Xandros, the adversary of fiends and all who consort with them! Uhh... Death to all fiends!"