Nighttime settles over Tyrin Castle. The wind blows through the nearby farms, spreading the smell of decomposing hay and animals into the surroundings. Abandoned houses and wooden barns creak noisily with every gust. A nearly full moon is shining from above, providing a small amount of relief from the darkness outside.

On a grassy hill overlooking the town stands a single figure. Rigel is wearing his white mage robe which allows easy movement and can be infused with mana. A radiant aura envelops him. His gaze is pointed at the castle in the distance. He reaches into his robe and grabs a small crystalline object with the shape of a teardrop. He holds it loosely in the palm of his outstretched hand, observing it closely.

“Visus Verum”

The object responds to the chant by absorbing mana and lighting up with a magical glow. It becomes fully transparent, projecting a scaled-down 3-dimensional image of a part of the town. The projection has a greyish tint and is rendered in great detail that could not be seen with the naked eye from this distance. Buildings and objects appear grey like the background while the humans, animals and everything that contains mana have a blue tint. Rigel retains this information in his memory and then lowers his hand slowly.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

The object’s light instantly dissipates and is tucked away in the robe. A pulse of energy spreads out with Rigel as the point of origin. The surrounding air is twisted and distorted by an invisible force. Millions of white threads of mana emerge through the robe from his upper back and coalesce into translucent wings. Swaying gently back and forth in defiance of the wind, the wings seemingly have no physical presence at all. A moment later he vanishes from view, leaving behind a small reverberation in the air as the only hint that anything was ever there to begin with.

-------------------------------------

Meanwhile, inside Tyrin Castle’s audience chamber, the town leaders are discussing their present situation. Sitting at a large, elaborately sculpted table is the 45 year-old Count Olsen Faustina, his young wife Shadi Faustina, as well as a number of important figures for the town’s management. Olsen is dressed in a comfortable white shirt and loose pants with a leather belt, all with a green coat on top. He strokes his well-groomed beard with one hand while listening. It’s an appearance that implies confidence and authority. Likewise, his wife is dressed to impress. She has a golden-yellow gown with white frills attached to the sleeves and skirt.

“Is it true? The enemy numbers only 1500?” one of the men at the table asks nervously.

“I received the report from commander Vitus himself.” Olsen responds. He turns to an imposing-looking man at the table and beckons. “Commander?”

The man acknowledges the request and stands up to speak. He is wearing plate-mail armor on his torso and has a rugged face that looks like it has seen many battles. His eyes survey the people sitting down before him. He takes a moment to clear his throat before speaking.

*ahem* “Our scouts report no more than 1500 troops have arrived near the town. Around one third of them are workers, supply crews and other non-combatants, so the actual fighting force is around 1000. This is equivalent to the force currently stationed in Tyrin. Furthermore, they don’t have any siege equipment.” His voice, full of determination, resounds throughout the whole chamber. “Frankly, they pose no real threat to Tyrin. The surrounding villages have been evacuated, leaving nothing for the enemy. We are in the process of starving them. Even if we do nothing, they will soon be forced to retreat.”

Everyone sitting at the table relaxes, including the one who asked the question earlier. The man giving the report, commander Vitus, is the leader of Tyrin’s military force. He is an experienced warrior and a commander with an extensive record in the Amisos army. His exploits earned him the nickname “Blaze of the Battlefield” which is shortened to “The Blaze”. Respected by all who are present, it is only natural that their worries would fade upon hearing his report. His presence alone is enough to make them feel safe. This is why Count Olsen and his wife can afford to act nonchalant even with a hostile army near their walls. They are doing their part to keep up the people’s morale.

“However” Vitus continues, “I believe that doing nothing is too weak-hearted. Zamora believes they can take advantage of the weakened state of our country. We should show them how wrong they are. I propose we launch a decisive attack within the next 3 days. The landscape around this region will mask our movements if done right. We can catch them unprepared and hit however we want. I will personally lead the attack” he declares.

Olsen’s eye twitches once upon hearing this. Although he appears confident on the surface, there is anxiety that lingers in the back of his mind, nagging him to be careful. Having commander Vitus by his side is comforting and he doesn’t want him leaving the town. Concurrently, he knows that saying such a thing would only alarm the other nobles and his wife. It may also brand him a coward.

In that case, it’s best to support this suggestion.

Before he can speak, another man at the table raises his hand. “I support the commander’s decision.” This starts a trend where others do the same, voicing their approval one at a time until Olsen’s turn arrives. Everyone is looking at him expectantly since he has the final say.

“It seems everyone agrees. We will set up the plan tomorrow or the day after that. Gentlemen, this is a historic moment both for Tyrin and Amisos as a whole. We will teach a lesson in fear to the fools who dare attack us. The gods are watching from above. Let us not disappoint them.”

Olsen’s reassuring declaration receives a short round of applause from all who are present. His pretty wife also gives him a pleasant smile which he returns. The meeting ends shortly after.

<><><><><><><><>

With night looming over Tyrin, the town slowly grows quiet. The citizens were assured of their safety by the town leaders, so they go to bed with their worries eased. Soldiers patrol both outside and inside the walls in case anything happens.

Tyrin Castle is still somewhat noisy. A number of workers are busy installing siege weapons and fortification at appropriate locations on the castle walls since the town itself doesn’t have ramparts where they can be set up.

“Hurry it up, you lazy cockroaches!” the one overseeing the work shouts. “Those cannons need to be set up by dawn. Do you think the enemy is just going to stand there and wait for you to finish? Move it!” He spurs them to work harder.

Watching the scene from a higher floor is commander Vitus and a few of his aides who are delivering scheduled reports.

“No movement from the enemy, sir. All is quiet outside the walls” the last of them says.

“Good work. Keep 12 patrols on constant watch throughout the night. 8-hour shifts maximum. There is little chance of a head-on attack. If they try anything, it will definitely be during the night.”

“Yes, sir. I will go inform the other captains.” The other men also reply in the same manner and then return to their posts.

Now that he is alone, Vitus looks over the town with tired eyes. Life is not easy for a commander at war. He has a lot of things to be concerned about in these troubled times. News of a devastating attack in Lapithos, the uncertain situation in Delos and now an army is invading from Zamora. Looks like I won’t be getting much sleep for the next few days, he grunts.

He turns his back to the castle battlements and walks toward the corridor leading to the lower floors when a large and sudden blast assaults his ears. The sound is loud enough to wake up the entire town. With horror, he looks toward the front once more and sees a massive pillar of smoke rising from inside the walls. The precise location is hidden by other buildings, but he immediately recognizes the source: a storehouse where gunpowder is kept for the cannons.

Accident? Sabotage? Enemy attack?

Relying on his experience, several possibilities flash through his mind. Adrenaline courses through his body, removing the feeling of fatigue and putting all of his senses on maximum alert. He charges down the stairs to the lower floors, meeting the men he just spoke to on the way. They quickly assemble any nearby soldiers and run toward the merchants’ district where the explosion took place. When they arrive, a few curious and worried civilians are present at the scene. They find what is left of a burning wooden structure. The upper half was completely blown away and the rest is charred black to the point that it’s unrecognizable. Pieces of burnt debris and gunpowder barrels are scattered everywhere.

“What happened here?” He demands with an angry tone.

“W-We don’t know, sir. We heard a horribly loud noise and came to see—”

“Don’t just stand there then!” One of the officers shouts. “Go bring water to put this fire out before it spreads any further!”

“I want everyone here questioned and the cause of this explosion found” commander Vitus orders his men. “Arrest any suspects and bring them to me. I will question them myself. Have a few of the guards put out the fire. I’m going back to the castle immediately. Hagan, Raul, you two come with me.”

“Understood.” The three return the way they came.

I have a bad feeling about this.

-------------------------------

Count Olsen is watching the pillar of smoke from a castle balcony that is facing the town. Unsure of what to do, he is anxiously awaiting the arrival of his trusted vassal. The voice of his wife appears behind him.

“Darling, did something happen? I heard a noise.”

“It’s nothing serious, let’s go inside.”

He pulls her away from the balcony while trying to reassure her. He has always been overprotective of his wife. She knows little about the town’s political or economic affairs and doesn’t have a significant role in its management. It’s his wish to see her happy and carefree, which is why he keeps her away from troubling things. It is also common practice to exclude women from leadership positions. The general view is that a wife should always be subservient to her husband. This is why the husband is the de facto ruler and head of the house. Olsen brought her to the meeting earlier only because he thought it would dispel any fears she has. This idea worked and he isn’t about to let any disturbance ruin that.

“You can go back to bed, Shadi. I will join you in a short while.”

“I understand, but please don’t push yourself. It’s bad for your health” she replies warmly.

“With Vitus the Blaze guarding us, there is nothing to fear.” This is not a mere boast. It’s trust in the abilities of his vassal.

<><><><><><><><><><>

Some time passes without any incident. Olsen hears about the explosion from his guards. “It’s most likely an accident” they explain. Since nothing further happened, this was the logical conclusion. There is no sign of an enemy attack, but they order an increase in the number of patrols just in case. With this in mind, Olsen returns to his bedroom. Shadi is already asleep in bed as he had hoped. A female servant brings him clean clothes and helps him change in an adjacent room. He washes his face with water and perfumed soap that is often used by nobility. After that, he sends the servant away and slips under the covers next to his wife, closing his eyes to get some rest.

His eyes snap open again upon hearing a small yet unmistakable sound coming from the coat he took off just minutes earlier. He silently gets out of bed without waking up Shadi, walks over to the coat and reaches into it to find a palm-sized metallic object with a large, round gem sticking out of it. This is a family heirloom; a priceless magic catalyst called the Eye of Zapnir. Created by a famous mage of great power, this tool is infused with magic that allows it to detect when magic spells are used in the vicinity. A crystalline orb is embedded into a metallic casing. The orb emits a warning sound and glows in the direction of the spell being detected. It can also distinguish between types of magic using color. The mechanism is unknown, but the theory is that it reacts to the residual mana generated by magic. This ability is less potent inside a building because walls and objects absorb mana, but it’s still far more effective than a mage’s natural senses. It can detect a single spell from several rooms away.

Olsen knows very well what it means when the Eye lights up. For generations, his family has been using it as a safeguard against assassins. It saved his father’s life on multiple occasions during his rule. Olsen himself has lived through remarkably peaceful times and thus has never truly needed it, until now.

The Eye is showing a purple light which indicates non-elemental magic. If it was regular elemental magic, the light would be white. By rotating the orb gently, he sees that the light inside is pointing downward at a shallow angle. After considering the layout of the castle, there is one place that could be: the outside stairway which leads to the lower floors. Inside his dark bedroom, anxiety begins tearing at his heart once more.

My servants know better than to use magic carelessly inside the castle. It must be trouble of some kind.

He puts his coat and shoes on and then looks for his weapon: a small dagger with a magic catalyst imbedded in the base of the hilt. Although it might not seem like it, Olsen Faustina is a respectable mage himself. He attended Amisos Magic Academy for several years in his youth. His skills have declined since then due to lack of practice, but he still knows enough to defend himself properly. Among the mages currently in his service, only 3 are more powerful. With his dagger in his right hand and the Eye of Zapnir in his left, some confidence returns to him. He heads outside the room, closing the door behind him.

The corridor is empty and sparsely lit. There are mana-crystals in various locations, but not enough to give good visibility everywhere. It never bothered him before, but now it feels like something sinister could be waiting in the shadows. Olsen swallows in a dry throat and pushes the thought out of his mind before moving on. Light continues to dance inside the Eye of Zapnir. A few flashes are white while the rest are purple.

Where is all this mana coming from? What is going on here?

As he was thinking this, he hears a dull thud echoing through the hallway. The source? Around the corner just ahead of him.

“Guards!?” he unwittingly blurts out, startled by the disturbance. No answer is given.

Olsen grits his teeth and advances a few steps further, looking at the Eye in his hand every couple of seconds. He grips the dagger’s hilt hard enough for his fingertips to turn white. At this point he is stepping as softly as possible to avoid making noise, despite the voice he let out earlier. There is magic to silence one’s footsteps, but he never learned the method to use it. A noble has no use for such specific and difficult magic, or so he thought. Stopping right before reaching the corner, he points his weapon forward and channels mana into it.

"Swirling Inferno”

A blinding torrent of fire lights up the path in front of him. The spell is amplified by the catalyst inside the dagger, increasing its power and distance. He directs the mana so that it moves at an angle before igniting, making it look like the fire is bending around the corner. This is an advanced form of control which shows that he is a competent spellcaster. After a few moments, he stops channeling mana and peeks into the area he just set ablaze. Another empty hallway greets him. There is a wide doorway on the right side which leads to the stairs. A number of doors are visible on both sides. Among them are servants’ quarters and some storerooms. Traces of mana linger in the air.

There should always be a guard stationed at the stairway entrance.

Other than the partially blackened wall from his fire spell, there is no sign that a conflict took place here. In any case, the missing guard is more than enough to convince him that something is happening. Olsen judges that the likelihood of intruders is very high. However, he doesn’t know their numbers or their purpose. He decides to continue advancing in this direction, toward the servants’ quarters. The barracks are on a lower floor, but he doesn’t dare to enter the dark stairwell where anything could be hiding.

“Nerve Constrictor”

A faint voice makes itself known in the darkness. Olsen recognizes the distinctive tone as a magic chant and reacts immediately by increasing his own aura for defense. He can sense a surge of mana ahead but he can’t see the source. Expecting a projectile of some kind, he is prepared to avoid it and counter-attack. However, the projectile never enters his sight.

The Eye of Zapnir lights up with an intense purple. Olsen is too distracted to notice. Moments later, the wall to his left rumbles while a burst of mana forces its way through it, hitting Olsen from the side. The magic penetrates his aura and invades his nervous system, confusing his senses and making him fall down. His ears are ringing painfully as he struggles to come to grips with what happened. His senses of touch and balance are scrambled, giving the illusion that the whole world is spinning around him. The hard floor feels similar to a liquid. Breathing is difficult and it feels like he could vomit at any moment from the nausea assailing him.

“I was wondering who it could be. It was you after all.”

A nearby male voice draws Olsen’s attention. The words sound garbled and barely understandable. He twists his weakened body in the sound’s direction and sees a figure wearing a white hood walking down the corridor with utterly silent footsteps. It’s almost like he’s gliding across the stone floor. As he comes out of the darkness and into the light from the nearby mana crystal, traces of magic appear and the hood gradually changes color from white to black as if it’s peeling itself off the surface layer. The man picks up the Eye dropped by Olsen and looks closely at it.

“Interesting toy you have here” he says in a tone which does not conceal his amusement. “The fact that you have this confirms that you’re Count Faustina. This kind of tool is only useful if you know what you’re looking for. The spell you cast earlier didn’t help either. Without the residual mana blinding your senses, you might have noticed my spell traveling along the wall.”

“Who, why… Ugh—” Olsen tries to speak but finds it nearly impossible. His muscles refuse to listen.

The hooded man crouches down beside him and whispers “You won’t be able to move for a while, so don’t bother. Anyways, what should I do with you now? I didn’t think you would be caught so easily, so I’m at a bit of a loss as to the next step. What do you think?” he asks sarcastically. Olsen can’t give a proper reply even if he tried.

The two of them are interrupted by loud sounds resounding through the nearby stairwell. The rattling of metallic armor can be heard clearly because of the stone surface. A group of people are coming up the steps in a hurry.

“Seems like your security has arrived. A little too late I’m afraid.”