“So how is your father, the Blackstaff?” asked Duke Cedric. He always had a fascination for stories surrounding Amos “the Blackstaff” Elswind. The wizard was one of the most powerful in the kingdom — and now his son was once again in front of him.

Too bad he wanted to keep it secret. Most of the nobles in Bountiful knew his esteemed father. They would have made efforts to connect with the wizard through gifts, manipulation, or marriage. Then again, perhaps the son was here on a mission from his father.

“Eh, much of the same,” replied Jeremy. “He’s probably working for the king secretly or overtly, such is his duties.”

“Hunting cultists?”

“Cultists?” Jeremy seemed genuinely confused. “Father doesn’t really like hunting cultists.”

The young wizard seemed thoughtful, as if remembering his father’s words. He seemed to hesitate before continuing.

“He thinks cultists are like children,” he starts. “They can be loud and destructive — but they don’t have any real power. They can launch an attack here and there, but once adults have had it with them, they are easily put in their place.”

“Put in their place?”

“Hell, milord,” Jeremy answered, “or beneath the ground.” The wizard casually picked up a cup of tea and sipped, as if what he said meant very little to him.

Duke Cedric paused. The boy — no, the wizard before him — certainly had a knack for the dramatics. Perhaps he was destined to follow in his father’s footsteps.

“Why is he called the Blackstaff?” he asked. “Everyone knows about his fiery horns — but what of his staff?”

He knew the Blackstaff’s horns were his conduit of magic. They flared red and blue as if on fire when he took to the battlefield, placing dread into the hearts of foes and allies alike.

The boy’s horns were small in comparison — even if they weren’t shorn. It was probably his conduit, same as his father’s.

“His staff?” Jeremy paused, a strange look on his face. “Honestly, I’ve never seen it myself.”

The duke frowned. He heard rumors the king himself forbade the head of the Elswind family from using his staff on the kingdom’s enemies. Some say it was after one of his battles with a demon that leveled an entire mountain range. Some say his staff drew too much mana it turned the land desolate and barren. Some say the Blackstaff simply didn’t have strong enough opponents that would require him to unleash the might of his staff.

The Duke believed the truth was some sort of amalgamation of the rumors. Perhaps he should pay a visit to his cousin, the king, to find out for sure.

“And how are your —” he paused, “ventures?”

“They’re doing great,” Jeremy practically glowed. “Some of your guards even asked for custom healing drops that we delivered...”

“Two days ago,” Sebas added.

The butler was a mystery to the duke. Was he some kind of bodyguard or hidden expert? Surely, the Blackstaff wouldn’t let his son go wandering about without the least bit of protection? If the butler was hiding his abilities — he was certainly doing it well. The butler had a reputation for avoiding confrontations or hiding behind other people. To say he was a bit cowardly would not be mistaken.

Then again, he still served under the Elswind household — and appearances could be deceiving.

He placed a hand on his pocket, touching the drop one of his guards gave him. He found it strange that the wizard even offered to stamp the drop if it was bought in bulk. He eyed the butler, thinking it was probably his idea.

“There was also talk about a snail.”

“Shelby? She’s harmless.”

The duke forced a smile. He knew of nobles sending spies to the wizard’s Corner Shop™. Most of them encountered the massive snail and his deadly flails — the snail or Shelby was far from harmless.

“I’m not sure if she gave birth, but we have another three snails the size of wolves in the house — and they’re growing fast.”

“So you’ll soon have four snails running about,” the duke congratulated. Deep inside he was pondering how to control the situation. The noble faction against “the Scourge” was already up in arms after the report on the first snail — what more if there were three others?

The sudden sounds of distant screaming and some sort of commotion put a halt to their conversation.

Sebas walked towards the window, seeking to learn the cause of the disturbance.

The sound of rushed footsteps heralded the arrival of a servant. He opened the door — only to immediately close it — before knocking.

“Just enter,” the duke commanded. “What is this commotion?”

“A fire sire,” the winded messenger replied. “Residential district four”

A commoner’s district!

“What of the protocols?” he asked the weary messenger. “Surely we have enough wizards to control a fire?”

The messenger shook his head. “It seems most of the nobles are withholding their wizards… for safety reasons — and the usual protocols don’t seem effective on the fires.

“The fires burn with traces of blue,” Sebas remarked from the window. “It could mean sulfur.”

Sulfur meant hellfire — probably the work of cultists. To think his city was free from their attacks for close to a decade. It was a good thing he had the son of the Blackstaff within his city walls.

“Can you stop hellfire?” he asked Jeremy, already knowing the answer. His father’s use of hellfire in battles against orcs and demons was sung throughout the land. If his son inherited a fraction of his power, dealing with the fires should be easy.

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“Yeah,” Jeremy answered.

The duke headed to the window, opening it wide.

“Do you have a flight spell ready?”

Both the wizard and the butler shook their heads.

“It’s fine,” he forced a smile. “Come with me.”

The duke reached for a hawk-shaped pendant beneath his tunic. He pulled it off his neck before turning to the two.

“Just jump on.”

He tossed the pendant into the air, before following it out the window.

Flames erupted from the pendant, coalescing into a figure of a massive flaming hawk. Red and white streaks marked the feathers of its body and silver seemed to form its beak and talons. The duke lands on the flaming hawk, only to be absorbed into its body.

Fires in parts of the hawk’s flaming body seemed to die down, revealing a grinning duke sitting down inside the flaming bird.

“What are you two waiting for?”

***

Jeremy jumped on the flaming bird. He noted the slight look of pain in the duke’s eyes when he used the pendant — the bird was probably one of the few tricks up his sleeve, one that he was unwilling to give away.

The bird was a Cinderhawk, an item that should be reserved for royalty. Having one meant the king treasured the duke and had his full trust.

I guess I should keep the bird secret.

The fiery bird warped and twisted, transforming into the form of a giant bat. Jeremy placed a hand on the bat’s body, seemingly pulling down a drape to reveal the sitting duke below.

“This is fine, right?”

“Yes, it is. My gartitudes,” the duke turns his neck to look up at the wizard. “It seems your manipulation of fire extends beyond hellfire same as your father.”

Jeremy smiled before partly sealing the duke inside the bird. He left a small opening so they could communicate if needed.

The duke’s words confused him. His father couldn’t manipulate hellfire at all. His fire was something beyond it. Sebas said Amos’ fire was similar to sustained lightning. He even said it burned hotter than the surface of the sun.

Jeremy smiled. His butler did have a strong admiration for his father. Hotter than the surface of the sun? How is that even possible? And how hot was the sun?

The giant flaming bat flew towards the burning buildings. Screams followed its flight as the people below feared it heralded more fires.

Upon reaching their destination, Jeremy could only sigh.

This is bad — real bad.

The fires had already spread to a quarter of a mile inside the city — thousands of people would be left homeless and penniless, perhaps even dead.

Jeremy extended his hand towards the blue-tinged flames, using his conduit to hell to try and absorb the conflagration.

It didn’t work.

“This isn’t a spell — it’s a ritual,” he shouted. “I took seven — no, eight — people to start this fire, I can’t just make it go away.

“Is there another way to stop it?” yelled the duke from inside the burning bat.

“Yes, but it would be messy.”

“Do it,” the duke commanded.

Jeremy clenched his fists. He didn’t get to use his shorn horned helm much, but this was a good time as any.

The helm allowed him to project thoughts, messages, and emotions to a wide area. His father used it to convey orders or strike fear into the hearts of his enemies — Jeremy was using it for evacuation.

He screamed. Not the usual sort, but a psychic one. His message was “leave” and the underlying emotion was fear.

The helm was ineffective against wizards with their shields of mana or veteran soldiers and their fortitude — but commoners didn’t have the same protections or steel in their hearts. If a commoner managed to shrug off his warnings, he or she probably didn’t need it in the first place.

“Not anyone would be able to leave.” Sebas remarked. He looked pained — worry clear in his face.

Jeremy nodded, understanding what his butler wanted to do.

Sebas stood from the burning bat, giving him a nod before jumping off.

“Wai—“

Jeremy stood aghast as Sebas plunged towards the ground without casting a spell. The butler landed on his feet and collapsed into a series of rolls before getting up and waving at the wizard.

He shook his head. There were still things he didn’t know about his butler.

Down on the ground, Sebas would take care of the people unable to leave their homes on their own. He could already hear screaming and the sound of rushing footsteps as the helm’s power took effect. It was now his turn to take care of the fires.

Hellfire burned relentlessly. It specifically burned living things — or what Sebas called packed organic matter. There was also something about carbon, but Sebas took too long to explain and he wasn’t really interested. What was important right now was that houses were made from wood and there was no way to put out hellfire on wood.

The fire would leave nothing but fine sand on its wake — fine fireproof sand.

He asked the duke to fly a route around the edges of the fire. He easily noted the places Sebas cleared — as his butler left motes of green light floating above the homes he had already visited. Sebas had this innate ability to detect life and he was putting it to good use.

Jeremy started burning houses.

He summoned his own hellfire, ones under his control, encircling the burning buildings with fires of an even deeper shade of blue. The surrounding fires kept wayward embers in check, turning them to dust before the wind carried them to another building.

Watching the fires put a smile on the wizard’s lips. The battling blue shades were simply beautiful. Yes the cost was high — but it didn’t diminish the macabre elegance of burning buildings.

He knew part of the thoughts weren’t his — but he couldn’t deny their validity from a purely aesthetic point of view.

Heck, hellfire wasn’t even evil — it was just a type of fire.

On the other hand, the cultists that used them to burn homes — they were definitely evil. Some might be misguided — but going along with a misguided plan and not speaking out was weakness.

Being weak was worse than being evil — his father, the Blackstaff’s, mantra.

The cultists days’ were numbered. He had their scent, so to speak, and he was not going to let their insult go unpunished.

They dared to burn a city that was home to his future minions, a city that he was bleeding for gold, a city that was under his protection.

The cultists would burn — and slowly, at that.

If anyone was going to burn the city to the ground — it would be him.