The violet and grey hue of the earth-space fusion element Quake filled the room, and the building shuddered with the force of the powerful element. An enormous array encompassed the room and then shrunk down, dragging all the residual liquid with it. The warlock forced the substance into a compressed ball that was far smaller than what the amount of liquid could physically take, the space element bending rules to create an impossibly strong seal.
The sludge could be seen squirming inside the spherical array, but Warlock Mazdor limped forward to levitate the array up and squint at the tar-like substance.
“Filthy monster, hiding in my own shop,” he spat. “Should’ve known no ordinary artifact would do something like that.”
“I thought the point of this shop was that no artifact in here is ordinary,” Lucille replied with a smirk. She glanced at the scroll that was still mounted on the wall and began to walk over to it.
He shot her a flat look and then sighed, scratching his head as he studied the Heretic item. “No wonder I couldn’t work out the scroll. I’m one of the better-known appraisers, but this thing has always given me a headache,” he muttered. He turned to face her and raised a bushy eyebrow. “And what in the realms are you doing now, girl?”
Lucy took the scroll down from the wall, rolled it up, and then waved it at him. “The prize for completing the trial is the artifact, correct? So I just want to claim my prize.”
The warlock frowned. “Girl, you know just as well as me that the scroll does nil without the Heretic item. It’s not an artifact, it’s only an- wait.” He squinted at the scroll and then glanced between it and the sealed inkwell. Then he narrowed his eyes at her. “Oh, you’re a cunning one, ey?”
Lucille only smiled and spread her gloved hands, the scroll gripped in one. “I’ve heard rumours that you have a powerful artifact capable of duplication. Why don’t you use it on the scroll now that you know what it does?”
“Bah. Don’t mock me.” He waved her off. “You can’t duplicate something like that. Court, how blind must I have been to miss that…” Warlock Mazdor shook his head. “No, I keep my word, regardless of my reputation as an affiliate of demons. Go take your prize and get out of my sight.”
Lucy picked up her jacket that had miraculously remained untouched by sludge in the far corner of the room and bowed. “Thank you for your time, Warlock Mazdor. If I come across any unique artifacts you’ll be the first I come to for appraisal or exchange.”
“Keep those rotten noble pleasantries to yourself,” he stated shortly. He crossed his demonic script-covered arms. “Show me I can believe you through actions, not words.”
She bowed one final time with a smile and walked out of the room with the scroll in hand. Humming slightly, she was follows by her aide and bond.
“That was… well, confusing,” Vincent began. “All this for a painted scroll?”
“I told you I came here for an artifact and I never lied,” she replied as they left the spatially-expanded shop. “There’s no such thing as a monster with spatial powers, is there?”
“…spatial?” Vincent parroted with bemusement.
Scytale stuck his head near Lucy to check out the artifact. “Hey, would that be considered a tent if it’s made of canvas?”
Lucille pretended to consider it as Vincent finally realised what they were talking about. “Lucille, is this a dimensional artifact?!”
“Yes.” She smirked and waved the item. “One of the few in circulation outside of the Athenaeum. But before I explain this object and its relevance to us, how about we meet up with our former mercenary friend?”
She looked in one direction as she observed something with her spiritual perception field. “It seems Hargrave may have gotten a little too motivated when completing his task.”
----------------------------------------
Still the bottom of the rung if this is the rubbish he employs. Some think their backing will solve all problems if their personal strength doesn’t.
Hargrave sat on a bar stool as he observed the results of his actions. Laying on the floor were thirty-odd groaning men, some bleeding from cuts and gashes on their arms and faces. Blood seeped into and stained the worn wooden floorboards that were covered in scratches from the fight. Smashed tables and stools with broken legs lay on their sides.
Insulting their weak underworld Guild wasn’t technically attacking them first. Unless his words had been hurtful enough to wound them mentally as well.
…if he attacked them with words instead of physically, did that mean he had broken his oath? He didn’t think his words had enough power to permanently impact someone though.
Why am I even considering this? I’m the one who made the oath. I get to decide what the context is.
Hargrave rubbed his temples and stood up with a sigh, grabbing his leather-wrapped spear from the counter. He rolled his shoulders as he walked towards the stairs that he knew would take him to the person whom he had come to find.
Time to have him repay his debt, and if he doesn’t do it willingly… it will be paid in blood.
He pulled the hood of his coat further over his head to hide his face in the shadows as he marched up the stairs. He ignored all the other landings that took him to other floors as he knew the Guild had thrown all their forces at him once they realised they weren’t winning against him. Hargrave finally came to a stop in front of a study with a plaque titled ‘Guildmaster’ on its front door. He glanced at the doorknob and didn’t bother to test if it was locked but instead gripped his demonic spear and thrust it into the door.
Ordinarily, materials on the Aeternus plane couldn’t be broken so easily by a Rank-1 like him, but he wasn’t an ordinary Rank-1. And the underworld Guild he had barged into was the equivalent of insects feasting on the leftovers of vultures, so their building would have the strength of insects too. It was probably made from the cheap materials of an unranked plane.
Eolith punched straight through the door and when he yanked his spear back out, the door collapsed inward, splinters flying everywhere. He kicked the shattered door down with one boot and stormed into the study. Then he raised his spear to point it directly at the brown-haired man sitting calmly at his desk.
“Thriesen,” Hargrave growled.
Armoured from he shoulders down in steel plate metal, the man sitting at the desk had his gauntleted fingers intertwined. He raised his eyes to look at Hargrave, revealing that one of them was shut tight by the twisted scar marring it.
“You call me by my last name with familiarity, but I don’t recognise your voice,” ‘Thriesen’ replied casually. “And you’re also threatening me. Did I kill all your friends and family? Don’t worry, if you want compensation I can afford the price.”
“Ha.” A dark smirk appeared on Hargrave’s face. “So my debtor wishes to play dumb.”
Inwardly, he was surprised.
This illusion masks my voice too? That’s… much more powerful than I imagined. The Commission Head’s capabilities keep growing more mysterious.
“Debt…” Thriesen narrowed his eyes at Hargrave. “Interesting. I don’t recall owing any debts to Rank-1s.”
With lightning-fast movements, Hargrave snapped his spear back to his side and instead slammed his fist onto the desk between them. It split in two as his hand cleaved right through the wood as if it were clay. At the same time, he deactivated his disguise artifact and shattered the illusion to reveal his blood-coloured hair and amber eyes tinged with red-hued killing intent.
“So now I’m a mere Rank-1,” Hargrave stated with a bloodthirsty grin. “Condescending at every turn, Thriesen. I’m glad to see you haven’t changed.”
As soon as he saw those amber eyes Thriesen leapt up with a pale face and backed away. “L-Lord Einar?! Everyone’s heard you’ve died!”
So that’s how my former master decided to make this play out, huh? Claim the original successor is dead so the new one has no barriers to his ascension? At least it plays in my favour.
“Dead…” Hargrave retracted his killing intent and walked up to the Guildmaster. Height wise, he towered over the man. “That would be convenient for you, wouldn’t it? Because I saved your life at the risk of my own. And you swore to follow me from then on.”
His amber gaze went cold. “You seem to have been living well from selling the treasure hoard I found.”
Thriesen gulped and shook his head. “I-I always knew you’d be back, Lord Einar! There was no way the famed Spear-Fiend of Blood would just be dead! I can hand over half of the treasure right now, if you want, although if you could give me some time to withdraw the assets from the other branches-”
“Shut it.” Hargrave punched the wall next to the man’s head, scowling. “I didn’t come here for money.” He lowered his hand and held it out, then narrowed his eyes. “The key. Give it.”
Eyes locked on Hargrave, Thriesen slowly summoned his dimensional skill and withdrew a small silver key from it. Then he placed it in Hargrave’s hand.
Hargrave held it up to check it was the right one and then glanced at the Guildmaster. “And the ledgers.”
Guildmaster Thriesen withdrew the bound folder and gave it to Hargrave. As soon as he had done so, Hargrave walked away and leaned against the windowsill to read them. He ignored the other man in the room as he scanned them, his spear tucked in the crook of his arm.
Thriesen coughed and walked around the room to be on the opposite side, directly facing Hargrave. “Lord Einar, I mean it when I say I’m glad you’re alive. I mean, you’re the saviour of my life! If someone like you could be killed on an ordinary mercenary commission then I…”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Hargrave continued to show no reaction to his words, making him trail off. Thriesen slowly became less fearful the longer Hargrave stayed by the window without moving, and gave him a scrutinising look. “But if you didn’t die, then you must’ve escaped while being severely weakened. May I ask how your power weakened so much? Perhaps I could-”
The scarlet-haired man finally looked up to fix a silent, cold stare on the Guildmaster. Thriesen shut up. Hargrave returned to reading the documents and when he had finally finished, he summoned his own dimensional skill he earned at Level 100 to put away the key and ledgers. Then he gripped his demonic spear and walked towards the door.
“Lord Einar, you know… did I ever tell you how much I hated how you do that?”
Hargrave whirled around and wielded Eolith just in time to deflect the heavy blow from the longsword Thriesen had withdrawn.
“Always ignoring me, not even paying me the slightest bit of attention even when I had sworn to serve you.” Guildmaster Thriesen had a vicious smirk on his face. “Was the orphan from the underworld too much of a bother for you to bring along?” He charged forward to bring his sword down in an overhead blow.
Hargrave was expressionless as he swung his demonic spear to divert the blade’s direction. It glanced off the metal staff of Eolith and Thriesen gritted his teeth.
“You gave me control over all the treasure you gained, and I finally thought you considered me useful. But it was just a task you didn’t want to do yourself. You never wanted me to become a true vassal.” Thriesen scowled as he swung his sword again. “I heard that you’re commoner-born, but I guess being the disciple of a great Ducal Mythos went to your head.”
Hargrave frowned slightly but didn’t reply as he continued to calmly defend. A strange smile appeared on the Guildmaster’s face.
“But while you’ve been ignoring me… I finally made something of myself. I formed a Guild on the Aeternus plane.” The warrior’s eyes grew wide with ecstatic glee. “And you’re now right before me, the weakest I’ve ever seen you!”
Hargrave became startled when the Guildmaster suddenly attacked in a frenzy, the strength and power behind each of his slashes far greater than before and enough to contend with Hargrave’s own strength.
No, he was stronger.
“Did you think I’d remain at the bottom forever?” Thriesen shouted as he slashed down on the spear staff gripped in both Hargrave’s hands. “Was I that pathetic that you didn’t think I was capable of becoming more?!”
I didn’t think he’d get so angry. What kind of relationship did he think we had? I knew him for a week.
Churning demonic power warped around Eolith as Hargrave readied his Origin weapon for a more intense strike. Rings of rippling blood mana manifested around its staff end as he decided to use his spearmaster abilities honed through over fourteen years on the battlefield.
But in response to his powerful attack, Thriesen summoned his own metal-element sword aura and locked blades with him.
“So this is the limit of the former successor cultivated by the General,” Thriesen spat. “All the resources poured into you and you can only fight on par with me.”
His words instantly stoked burning hot wrath in Hargrave and he scowled as thick red killing intent surrounded him. Enhanced by its similar nature to the deathly intent, his blood mana surrounded him because a dense aura of bloodlust that made his armour and weapon look drenched in blood.
“Do not claim that the General was responsible for my skills,” Hargrave growled through gritted teeth. “That man who I barely saw twice a year is little more than the devastator of my life.”
Then he threw his blood-empowered spear at Thriesen. The Guildmaster barely raised his blade to block the attack at the last moment and he slid back several steps. Before he could react, Hargrave was already in front of him with Eolith back in his hand, and a sharp kick from him sent the man to the ground.
“Thriesen. You wanted fame and power so much that you now hate me for not bestowing you with it. Well, now I’m going to grant your wish.” Hargrave narrowed his red-hued eyes at the man and gripped his spear. “I’ll give you fame by dying at the hands of the infamous hellbeast of the Selwood clan.”
Hargrave used every ounce of his power to plunge Eolith downward, and Thriesen let out an anguished cry of pain as his chest plate buckled inward. But he didn’t die instantly. Instead, the building shuddered as the floor collapsed, sending him to the next level. Then he smashed through the second floor too until he finally slammed into the ground floor, leaving a crater of broken wood and blood. With that final impact, his eyes rolled up into his head and his rent chest plate revealed his stabbed, shredded heart.
Hargrave winced.
I… got too mad. I didn’t even question to see if he had any resurrections left. But…
He waited thirty seconds to see if the body would disappear, but nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief and then jumped down. He had gotten what he came for and killed the main witness.
But once he had dropped down, he remained in a crouch as he stared at the surroundings. The shattered bar stools and tables, the gouges in the worn wood floor…
There were more gouges and more destruction. And everything was covered in another layer of fresh blood. He slowly stood up and then stiffened as another figure walked into the room.
“Now, to leave before Vincent wonders what’s taking so long and comes in…” the familiar dark-haired woman murmured. Then she looked up and blinked her one visible violet eye at him. “Oh, Hargrave. It seems you’re done.”
“What…” He stared as he took in her missing jacket, the two strange blades hovering near her, and the blood splattered on her face and staining both her white gloves and her dark leather vest. “Lucille…?”
“Hm?” She looked down at herself. “Ah, I suppose you’ve never seen these clothes get dirty. But the same goes for me.” She snapped her finger and the blood on her face slipped off of her to the ground, although her clothes were still slightly stained. She tilted her head. “Better?”
He blinked once, then twice, and then put a hand to his head as he waved the other. “Uh… quite frankly, no, this is not better!” He gazed at her with stupefaction. “Why are you here?”
“Would you rather it be Annaliese?” she asked brightly.
Hargrave scowled. “I’m really not in the mood to play word games with you.”
The Commission Head clicked her tongue. “That’s no fun.” She shook her head and spread her hands. “To be succinct, I found a rather incriminating basement to this Guild.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And the guilders?”
“Dead or very very unconscious,” she stated blithely. “The latter is in said incriminating basement.”
Hargrave groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Lucille, I… could I please have a straight answer about what you are doing here? I know we never specifically talked about this, but… this is my business and my business alone.” He crossed his arms and gazed solemnly at her. “And you told me yourself that being involved with me is politically bad for you.”
Lucille watched him silently for a moment and then seemed to sigh. “Here.”
Hargrave blinked when she threw him a rolled-up tube of paper. He opened it to look and his expression grew grave. “…this is a bounty poster. For me.”
“The basement was where they kept all information regarding their underworld dealings,” Lucille explained seriously. “And the poster that was listed as ‘top priority’ was this one. This Guild knew about you being alive and were looking for possible leads on your location.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “I can only assume that once ‘Guildmaster Thriesen’ discovered who you were, he planned to reveal this to the Solarmane Duchy.”
The poster in his hands crumpled as he squeezed his fists. “I knew I was right not to trust him,” he growled. “That was why I didn’t bother to take him with me in the first place. I wasn’t going to trust the oath of a stranger, even if I saved their life.” Hargrave frowned and looked down at the body by his feet. “But he acted so strangely. What good would it do him to follow me to the battlefield? He’d be killed within a week.”
Slight laughter coming from the young woman opposite him made him give her a strange look.
“It seems you don’t understand the minds of people with ambition,” Lucille said with amusement. “He must’ve been the type of man who would do anything to become close to those in a position of power. You were a strong warrior with connections to Glory Pantheon and the Solarmane Duchy, and you had yet to gain a group of supporters.” She shrugged. “He would’ve thought you were the perfect person to get close to and benefit from your success.”
Hargrave furrowed his brow as he gazed at the corpse, but shook his head. “What did you do with the guilders that are still alive?”
“Well…” She looked down at the floor and then raised an eyebrow at him. “The ones that are alive know nothing about ‘Einar the Spear-fiend of Blood’. The ones that aren’t… I checked to see if they had resurrections left. As an underworld dark Guild, their lives were adequately risky and so they didn’t.” She tapped on her chin with a finger. “Of course, I checked to ensure the ones I removed were worthy of death. Those who weren’t… may unfortunately suffer from a bout of amnesia for the next few months as a side effect of meeting me.”
“Only a side effect or the intended effect?” Hargrave asked with narrowed eyes.
Lucille smirked. “I reserve the right to remain silent.”
He sighed and scratched the back of his head. “Does anything need to be done with them?”
“No. They’re tied up right now, but I’m sure they’ll get out on their own. We can leave them there,” she replied. “The only issue may be that this Guild was subordinated to a larger dark Guild, so we should get out of here quickly. I stole some specific key documents and planted other evidence to disguise the fact an individual was responsible for this and that it wasn’t related to an underworld conflict.” Lucille paused to consider her words. “I suppose the fact you’re wanted would mean this is an underworld conflict, but I’m sure you know what I mean.”
The Commission Head then turned to the body of Thriesen. “However, just to be safe… let me disguise his wounds slightly.” She pointed a gloved finger and summoned a mana-circle that shot out a hissing ball of flames. Once the body was sufficiently charred, she shattered the spell.
Hargrave took one last glance at the corpse and turned away. “Let’s go.”
Lucille almost nodded but then she blinked and quickly walked up to him. “Wait, Hargrave. I think you should really let me get rid of that blood on you before-” She froze up and her eyes went wide, making Hargrave frown at her.
“Lucille, what’s wr-”
“Er, Vincent, I’m sure everything is perfectly fine. You don’t need to-”
“I know enough to be aware that Lucille is using you to distract me, Scytale. No, I am entering, whether you want me to or not.” The front door of the Guild swung open. “Lucille, what’s taking you so…”
The silver-haired man who had just entered the room stared as he took in the appearance of broken furniture, blood-stained clothing and weapons in Hargrave and Lucille held, and all the clear evidence of violence in the room. Vincent blanched.
“Just what in the realm’s name happened here, and why are both of you covered in blood?!”
Hargrave and Lucille exchanged looks. Hargrave began to feel slightly apprehensive.
I wonder how the Commission Head plans to hide this…
----------------------------------------
“Imperialius Aeternia is always very busy, isn’t it?” Lucy announced brightly. “There’s a hundred thousand people in this block alone. We should be glad we have the wonders of spatial expansion magic.”
The carriage was only filled with awkward silence as the scarlet-haired ex-mercenary to her left and the winged snake on the windowsill to her right avoided making eye contact with Vincent, who was glaring directly at her. That sentence was the first anyone had spoken since they entered the coach and they were nearly back to the teleportation array.
Vincent went to open his mouth, but…
“Before you say anything, it was his fault,” she interrupted, pointing at Hargrave.
Hargrave flinched and gazed at her with a look of betrayal, then stared at her aide with mild panic.
Vincent frowned at the man but returned to glaring at her. “Unlike Hargrave, who has had a past occupation in violence, you are the Aurelian Commission Head.”
“And the Aurelian Commission Head has very lethal weapons,” she argued.
The silver-haired man scowled. “You’ve been Rank-1 for a few months.”
“Three and a half is more than a few.”
Vincent pressed two hands to his temples as he tried to deal with the infuriating woman before him. “Lucille, could I please have an explanation?”
She whistled and looked out the window. Vincent turned to the man sitting next to her. “Or you, Hargrave?”
Hargrave opened and closed his mouth as if trying to find the words to respond.
After a few seconds of a silent stare-off between him and Vincent, Lucy’s aide sighed and buried his head in his hands. “Never mind.”
Lucille studied her aide in silence as the coach continued to take them to the planar array. She crossed her arms. “Vincent, I’ll only tell you anything if it’s with Hargrave’s permission because this has to do with him.”
Hargrave shot her an exasperated look which made her quirk an eyebrow. “What? I’m sorry, but I can’t cover for you in this instance. You devastated a Guild and Vincent saw the evidence. What am I supposed to say?”
He rubbed his face, looking frustrated. “…but you involved yourself.”
“Weren’t you the one who claimed what happened in there was your business alone?” she retorted. “And I only involved myself to tie up your loose ends. You never planned on making sure those guilders were dealt with, did you?”
Hargrave grimaced and remained silent, proving her right. She rolled her eyes. “Case in point. So, unless you begin the conversation first, I refuse to try to explain this to Vincent.”
The scarlet-haired man rubbed his neck as a look of hesitation and slight worry warred on his face. The fact he was even considering it surprised Lucy, as she didn’t expect him to be willing to disclose his origins in any way.
Then Hargrave sighed and crossed his arms. “My last name is… Einar,” he stated seriously.
The carriage fell silent as Lucy and Scytale stared at him, while Vincent furrowed his brow and tried to ponder the meaning of him revealing his last name. “…I faintly recognise it, but it doesn’t belong to any noble clan that I’m aware of.”
“I was an orphan who was educated to be adopted and become a successor,” Hargrave explained. “I don’t come from any clan, although I used to… work for one.”
Lucille decided to tap a finger against the bench and subtly cast a sound barrier spell to be careful.
Vincent held his chin as he gazed at the carriage floor, looking pensive. He glanced up. “So…your identity is politically sensitive?”
“I… yes, that’s probably the best way to put it,” Hargrave replied hesitantly. “Although ‘politically sensitive’ might not be the right term when I have a bounty on my head set by an Aeternus Duchy.”
“…did you just say… Duchy? Aeternus Duchy?” Vincent asked, his eyes going wide. His gaze flicked between Hargrave and Lucy.
Lucille propped her chin up and gazed silently at her aide. She looked at Hargrave to see if he was going to say anymore, but it looked like he was caught by indecision and couldn’t decide what to say. She let out a sigh. “Vincent, you know of the Selwood clan of Glory Pantheon, correct? The one that General Flarion Selwood-Solarmane of Blazing Iron belongs to. Do you know about his disciple?”
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “The one who hasn’t been seen among the nobility for the last six years? I know of him. Many members of Glory Pantheon have given him the dishonourable title of the General’s ‘Bloody Butcher’ because of his job being a mercenary on battlefields to further the General’s agendas. I’ve heard rumours that he’s very capable even with the Mythos of the Spear Discipline doubting the General will officialise his successorship, but I’ve never seen the man myself.” He frowned. “But what has that got to do with this topic?”
Lucy gazed dully at her aide while Hargrave buried his head in his hands. Muffled snickering from the winged serpent to her left filled the coach until Scytale couldn’t take it anymore and burst out laughing.
“Hey Hargrave, if you ask nicely then maybe Ashale’viaf would be willing to dig a hole in the garden for you to bury yourself in!”
Hargrave shot the snake a sour look as Vincent glanced between them, perplexed. “Why are you mentioning Hargrave? He doesn’t have anything to do with… this…” Vincent’s expression froze on his face as his words trailed off, a very awkward and unfortunately quite real possibility coming to mind.
Lucille clasped her hands together and smiled brightly. “Vincent, have you ever heard the name of this ‘Bloody Butcher’ before? If you haven’t, I can inform you.”
“Er…” Vincent hesitated when he saw her expression. “…no, no, I think I’m aware. It might be best to discuss this another time-”
“The ‘Bloody Butcher’ of the General, the hellbeast of the Selwood clan and the infamous Spear-Fiend of Blood is named Einar,” Lucy stated flatly. She gestured to Hargrave with two white-gloved hands. “Let me reintroduce you to the Spearmaster of the demonic weapon Eolith, a famous manipulator of the blood element and the ex-disciple of the Mythos Epsilon of Blazing Iron: Hargrave Einar, also known as one of the Commission’s current residents.”
The awkward silence in the carriage was even worse than it had been after they had left the Guild, except this time it was broken by the muffled guffaws coming from Lucille’s bond. Vincent stared at Lucy, then at Hargrave. “…I see. Then… uh, Hargrave, I sincerely apologise for how careless I was with my words,” Vincent said with a bow.
Hargrave gazed wearily at the aide and let out a sigh as he straightened up in his seat. “Just… never mind. It’s not like you were claiming I suited those titles. You were just telling Lucille what the rumours were.”
“…right,” Vincent replied awkwardly.
The carriage descended into silence again before Lucy clapped her hands together. “Well, now that that’s clarified, I will now say that Hargrave needed to retrieve a key of some kind,” she began cheerily. “A key to what, I don’t know, so we’ll have to hope that he will eventually be willing to explain.”
Lucy, Vincent and Scytale turned to stare at Hargrave.
“…you’re curious about the key?” the scarlet-haired mercenary asked with slight bemusement. He activated his dimensional skill to take out a small silver key and show it to them. “This is the key to a vault where I store my valuable belongings.”