04 | Tragedy of Crestmore
AFTER HAMILI LEFT, A mist entered the middle of the clearing. Moments after, Lucius’ form materialized from the mist, surrounded by the wreckage of Hiram's birthday party. The once lush grass was now stained with blood and dotted with the bodies of his fallen men, many of them his friends, and the bodies of the assassins. The decorations, meant to bring joy and celebration, now hung in tatters, a twisted mockery of the occasion.
The stench of death and smoke filled the air, making it difficult for Lucius to breathe. He clutched his chest, feeling the weight of the destruction around him. He couldn't believe that just hours before, they had all been laughing and enjoying each other's company.
'But this is no time for sorrow,' he thought and breathed deeply.
"I'm all alone now. Are we going to do this or not?" Lucius called out. No movement. But many hid in the dark - waiting - waiting for him to escape and regroup with the guests. It should be easier to deal with him that way rather than fight him head-on. But he did not escape.
Eventually, the sounds of footsteps echoed out. "I'll take you on," a voice replied, and a hooded figure revealed himself.
"All of you stand down. Don't interrupt, or I'll kill you all myself,” said the figure, revealing a light smile beneath his hood, addressing those who hid in the dark.
"You truly deserve your moniker, Prince of Ice," said the figure before engaging Lucius in a duel. "I've always longed to face you myself."
Lucius unsheathed the sword strapped to his side, clashing with the figure's daggers. Their blades sparked against each other as they fought for dominance. His opponent fighting with reckless abandon. But Lucius met the flurry of strikes with calm.
They were testing each other out.
Despite his features being hidden beneath his hood, the assassin's frustration was palpable to Lucius, who was biding his time.
He then pushed his palm forward, sending ice projectiles toward his opponent. In response, the assassin melted the projectiles with a tongue of flames, revealing himself as a pyromancer.
"Who do you work for?" Lucius frowned, knowing that "no one could easily afford to hire a Grand Pyromancer from the criminal underworld."
While projectile spells may be the most basic form of spells, Lucius' ice projectiles were still Tier III. It has a piercing power even stronger and faster than bullets. Sorcerers below Grands would already have succumbed to their death.
Despite being surprised by his opponent's ability to shrug off his attack, Lucius was more concerned about who sent the assassins, not expecting the information to be revealed so easily. However, he suspected they were from the Order of Sicarius, an international order of assassins – the most feared organization in the underworld.
After all, who else could dispatch three Grands and multiple Highs? Some nations and colonies don't even have one.
"You've made many enemies, Lord Crestmore. Including those close around you," said the pyromancer before tossing his daggers aside, having lost their edge. The pyromancer hinted at the possibility of a traitor within his own government, someone who could help the assassins infiltrate his heavily guarded estate.
Lucius saw the pyromancer summon two crimson transparent cutlasses that looked like fragile glass on both his palms and charged forward. 'Twin Blades of Fire... Tier IV sustained spell,' he thought.
He also tossed aside his blade before summoning Spear of Ice. 'I also have one,' he thought.
When they used their respective ice and fire spells, the battle reached a new level of intensity. The two sorcerers separated, launching an array of magical attacks at each other that lit up the night sky with a dazzling colourful display.
They were both quick and equal in combat abilities, but Lucius had a slight upper hand.
Suddenly, Lucius sensed danger approaching behind and quickly erected a dome of ice. As a storm of wind blades battered the dome, Lucius thought to himself, 'Must be the Grand Aeromancer who left earlier.'
'He’s really fast, I hope father and the others are okay,' Lucius thought. But this is to be expected of aeromancers. They are the fastest of all sorcerers and also the deadliest. Aeromancy is the only basic sorcery class that could compete against advanced classes like him.
The wind attack was a Tier IV spell known as Invisible Blades, a commonly used ability by Grand Aeromancers and as deadly as Earth Barrage. Thankfully, it has quite a long spell cooldown. After all, invisible blades that could be cast indefinitely would be beyond Tier IV.
The pyromancer's features contorted - irked by the interruption. He then cast Orb of Flames, a Tier IV spell. It exploded when it touched the ice dome. But the ice dome only shook and did not break.
"No matter," Lucius said calmly as he made the ice dome explode and sent the pyromancer flying back. The pyromancer's eyes widened in shock, confusion visible on his face.
Lucius’ spell was not Ice Dome, a Tier III ice spell that could block Tier III spells. Rather, he used Requiem of Ice, a Tier IV sustained defensive/offensive spell that could block Tier IV spells and then explodes at the user’s will.
Unlike other sustained spells that trigger cast cooldown upon deactivation – Requiem of Ice triggers cast cooldown upon its activation. Thus, when he blew it up, he was already off his cast cooldown.
On the other hand, the pyromancer was on cooldown after casting Orb of Flames, giving Lucius an opportunity to attack.
Lucius also took advantage of the pyromancer's unsteady footing and summoned an ice spike that protruded from below his opponent – stabbing him in the chest. The pyromancer coughed up blood and immediately died.
But Lucius knew the aeromancer was still lurking in the shadows. He hurled his spear with great force toward the direction of the Invisible Blades, but it missed its mark.
The aeromancer had already moved to flank him, using Wind Rush to cover a great distance, and plunged his dagger into Lucius' back.
Lucius could not transform into a mist in time due to being on cooldown.
"I commend your strength, Lord Crestmore," the aeromancer said as he retrieved his dagger and watched Lucius fall to his knees. "He was foolish to face you in single combat, but it’s one less Apostle's share of the pie."
"Then tell me... at least… who gave you the order," Lucius said through gritted teeth as he coughed up blood.
The wind assassin nodded and revealed the identities of those responsible, respecting the dying sorcerer's request for information as a fellow master of the elements.
Lucius let out a weak laugh upon hearing the news before accepting his fate. He then silently prayed that his wife and son were safe before taking his final breath.
"May the Almighty guide your soul, Crestmore," the aeromancer said as he retrieved his companion's body and left the forest garden.
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Talia glared at Cyril and attempted to stand up. But once more, her strength failed her, and she could do nothing. But she wondered who sent him. Who could afford “The Crow of the Order of Sicarius"? One of the top assassins in the criminal underworld?
Money is simply not enough to afford not only one but three of the Apostles of Sicarius. Perhaps even more. After all, how come reinforcement had yet not come?
Thus, thoughts ran through Talia’s mind. She had many questions, including how Sicarius infiltrated the estate in the first place.
She's aware of the many enemies she and her husband made. But both believed the estate's security was enough to deter potential attackers, not to mention how they increased the security for Hiram's birthday party. “How did you infiltrate the estate?” asked Talia, both out of curiosity and to buy time.
“It has already been long infiltrated since the previous Governor General’s departure... thanks to the people who commissioned your and your husband's death,” Cyril calmly responded. Confidently, he added, “While the plan wasn't perfect... full of risks... and although we’ve lost many... the mission’s still a success.”
Talia understood. She was purposely separated from Lucius, and the guests were used to force her on the defensive.
It was a simple plan that eliminated several factors that could prove to be a hindrance and result in Cyril’s plan failing. This includes the possibility of her reuniting with her husband and fighting together. But Cyril predicted this and halted the opportunity by, and again, endangering the guests in the crossfire.
The other risk that could result in the assassination's failure is for the couple to escape with their guests. But Cyril also understood that while they could escape, they had a reputation to uphold. 'It’s like the bastard can read our minds,' Talia thought.
If they escaped, the danger would also follow their guests, and they're not confident in protecting all their lives.
The final major risk is the presence of the Imperial Civil Guards. The sheer number of assassins eliminated this risk.
Talia realized Cyril was the only one mad enough to execute such a devious plan - infamous for risky assassination plans with a high chance of success.
After all, only fools would dare attack a gathering with multiple Highs and a duo of Grands. However, while the Crestmore's estate was akin to a fortress in combat manpower, she recognized Hiram's party was also the best moment to attack.
“Cyril, you dog,” Talia said with a scowl. “What do you all gain from this?”
“Something enough to satiate the Order of Sicarius’ greed,” said Cyril.
“But why?” Talia said. The Order of Sicarius would not operate in a faraway Atharian colony like Alardice. While they had branches in Alardice, there should only be second-realm sorcerers operating at best and a number of non-sorcerers. This is simply to keep themselves up to date with colonial information.
They mainly operated in the old world - the continent of Ecus, or the land in the west, dubbed as the new world – Allassa – where many of the world's primary players are located.
Before Cyril could respond, one of the assassins whispered in his ear.
Cyril nodded and shifted his gaze back to Talia. "While it has been a long time, Lady Crestmore," he said, his voice resonating through the air despite the mask. "It pains me that this must happen... May you, once more, find yourself in your husband’s embrace.
Talia clenched her jaw upon the revelation of her husband's death. "No..."
Cyril shot toward her at great speed, swiftly unsheathing his sword and aiming the tip of his blade at her heart. When suddenly, a blur appeared before Cyril, taking the blow instead.
Talia shouted, "No!" as she saw Hiram's chest stabbed by the blade. "Hiram!"
Before Cyril and the other assassins could move to finish the job, spell projectiles were fired at them. But Talia had no time to check on who they were.
"We're done here," said Cyril and glanced at her and Hiram before withdrawing his sword. "I can feel his presence," he said as he clicked his tongue in annoyance before escaping.
Moments later, Augustus wheezed past her in pursuit of the assassins with furious eyes, followed by Hamili and other Highs.
Talia rushed to hold her son in her arms, uncaring of the world around her. She knelt and rested Hiram's head against her lap.
"No, no, no, you cannot do this to me, Hiram," she said as tears fell down her cheeks. Then, her palms emitted an azure light, placing it against Hiram's chest. Despite using her life force to heal Hiram's wounds, they did not close.
Hiram only smiled at her as he shook his head, but Talia did not give up. Then rain began to pour as if the sky was mourning.
"Please, no," Talia begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Anything, Lord. I'll do anything... just please don't take my son away!"
The rain pouring down only seemed to amplify the sense of despair and loss that weighed heavy on her heart.
She became blind to the forest garden's ethereal beauty... of its flowers, the fireflies abound, or the stars above. The enchanted garden, which had always brought her joy and peace, became a source of agony and despair.
"Please," quietly, Talia kept pleading to the Almighty. "Oh Lord, please. Anything for my son."
But despite her pleas, Hiram's eyes were losing their lustre. Talia sobbed uncontrollably – her body wracked with grief and pain.
“Mom... look,” Hiram said weakly and pointed to the sky.
As she held Hiram in her arms, a shooting star streaked across the sky, its light almost blinding in intensity. Talia watched it with a mixture of awe and bitterness, wondering why such beauty could exist in a world that could be so cruel.
It was so beautiful it felt like a sin to witness. She could not bear such a mystical sight, not while her only child slowly died in her arms. She could not.
But yet, she wished upon the star, praying for a miracle she knew would never come.
“Mom... I... love... you...” Hiram said as Talia looked back at him, his features pallor.
“No... Hiram?” Talia said as she intensified the transfer of her life force. “Hiram!”
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When the shooting star ceased from the sky - time came to a halt. The waterfalls froze, as did the fishes in a nearby pond. The raindrops also halted in mid-air and failed to splatter against the ground.
A dark-haired youthful figure donning an elegant, three-piece black suit appeared in a blink.
Vincent's indifferent blue eyes trailed about, not to admire the picturesque garden but toward all the bodies strewn about. Then his eyes shifted to the mother and her child. As if trapped in the most realistic diorama.
"The final destination... death," he muttered to himself, having seen the memories of Hiram, who died a tragic death or at least, he is close to dying.
He understood that he was supposed to live in Hiram’s body following the boy’s death, but he had no intention of doing so - he found a solution.
Then he walked toward Talia, embracing Hiram. “Come out, Hiram,” Vincent said after feeling a ghostly presence.
The ghost of Hiram flew from his physical body and flickered like a dying flame. Hiram looked at his soul-less body, and his eyes softened when he looked at his mother, muttering a whispery, “Mom.”
A hint of emotion briefly betrayed Vincent’s stoic features. His lips lightly pursed as he scrutinized Hiram’s eyes. Those were the eyes of mourning and acceptance. He will never mistake the eyes of a grieving child. He knew Hiram did not grieve for himself but for his mother instead.
He stepped back to offer Hiram space. He could not comfort the boy, but he let him grieve. After all, Talia’s attempts to save Hiram would cost her life. It is only inevitable.
Then Hiram looked at him, his gaze becoming steely and cold – signs of maturity that should not belong to a child.
He nodded to Hiram and looked at Talia. After gaining Hiram’s memories, he understood the mother's aim.
“Aether transference,” said Vincent. “The only known method by sorcerers to heal a body at the brink of death. But once the process begins, it cannot be stopped, and the sorcerer is fated to die.”