“I see land, finally. It has taken us more time than I had first envisioned. I almost convinced myself that we were lost or that the whole thing was a lie. But Elric spoke the truth when he told me about this damn island. I feel like an idiot for doubting him. Still, I suppose it would have been quite faster, had he been with us. He is, after all, the only person I've ever met who seems to know about its precise location. The jerk only told me it was a two month travel to the east of Longhills. I did not realize until midway how long of a journey it meant ! I gathered from his stories and the distance that the locals aren't much accustomed to visitors and the like ; hopefully our arrival will not cause any hostility. I brought gifts to this effect. Everybody loves gifts.

-Anton's diary, 1st journey to the island”

* * *

Azcheron

“Azcheron,” someone called out.

Crouching on the ground, a blonde youth was concentrating and using his magic to sculpt something with sand. It was a hobby of his. Of course, he couldn't afford to be disturbed, so he replied as non-committally as he could. With a groan. “Mh.”

“Azcheron !”

He turned his head and answered with an offended voice. “What ? I'm busy.”

“I can see that. Is it that much fun to make statues of you with sand ? All by yourself ?”

It's father, the youth thought. Is he mocking me ? I believe he is.

“How dare you. I don't trust the others with that, they can't use magic with the proper accuracy, and they'd get my face wrong. So I have to do it myself.”

It's true, I'm not lying. I'm the best mage on the island, and when it comes to minute details and accurate manipulation of raw mana, I am peerless. I'm peerless in many other fields, but it's not like I'd make a list of these things. Boasting is inelegant.

“That's not what I meant... Hah, whatever, listen to me. The... seers spotted something, a few days to the west. Looks like Anton's ship. It seems there are two boats this time, but we don't know why.”

He flashed a brief smile. Anton came back, as always. “Oh. Good, good. A few days, you say ? Since when are the seers able to look that far ?”

“Vara trained them. She told you, but you weren't listening. Why do you insist on calling them 'seers' anyway ? It's not like they can see in the future, they're just sentries using magically enhanced sight.”

“It's more stylish,” he answered flatly.

Isn't that obvious ? Calling them sentries makes us look like we're an encampment of unclean soldiers. We're not ! We're mages, damnit.

His father, Aldaron, did not reply, as if he was waiting for Azcheron to continue. Of course, he knew what his father wanted him to say. He had responsibilities after all. 'Twas a pain, but such was the duty of the Saint of the clan.

“Fine. I'll do the announcement. Can you gather everyone in front of the temple, father ?”

Aldaron smirked and walked away, with a victorious demeanour. Well, it was true that Azcheron had a tendency to spit on these kind of things, but even he could sometimes act like a proper clan chief, even though he was only seventeen. Like when Anton Vardt came to see them. He was Azcheron's friend and his teacher, so he didn't mind playing village chief to make his stay more pleasant.

Always treat your friends well ! That's the very first lesson he gave me, since I tried to assassinate him the very first time we met. But I had my reasons ! Wouldn't you be suspicious if some random old mage from the Empire came suddenly to your island one day, after decades of isolation ?

Indeed, he was the Saint and he had responsibilities. Among them, the obligation to defend the village against intruders that could pose problems. Granted, at that time, Anton had no ill-intent, but Azcheron wasn't even nine years-old and had just been freshly invested with the Saint's duties. He was eager to test his might ! And he was dumb, maybe.

He wasn't anymore. Who did you think he was, an oaf ? In the eight years of friendship shared with Anton, he obtained a lot knowledge about the world. He had never been outside the island, so all he could work with were books and stories.

His mother went to the continent too, at some point, so she also told him a few interesting things. This was a different matter, though.

In any case, he had to do the announcement. They usually prepared a feast or something, when Anton visited them.

Guess we'll have to fish or hunt, he thought. Ah, we also have to feed the damn dogs. I call them dogs because that's what they are according to books, but Vara's animals are the scariest bunch. If I was given the authority to name them, I'll call them... Eh... I don't know of anything shorter than 'angry-looking-sword-toothed-drooling-bloodwolf' so...

Right then, now was the time to go and act like a proper village chief.

* * *

“I was able to meet with the head of the clan, two weeks ago. As I expected, magical potency is a major factor in determining the hierarchy. While the 'Rahal Saint' as he is called, governs the village with the help of the elders, he has full authority when dealing with beasts, internal conflicts or visits from mainlanders, and every other matter that may involve force. His role is, in other words, to defend the village by any means necessary. I believe the head of the clan is called 'Saint' because of the requirements for the position : utmost talent and phenomenal might that inspire an unconditional trust and, in some, if not most of the clansmen, a pious veneration.

-Anton's diary, 1st journey to the island”

* * *

Azcheron was currently pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, elbow on the armrest. He was trying to appear very annoyed. He didn't have to put much effort, seeing as he was very annoyed.

Anton had arrived some moments ago. Azcheron knew he should have expected trouble ever since they noticed that there was another ship aside from Anton's, two days ago. Well, it all came down to one thing, in fact : secrecy.

Mages were a very powerful resource. They were properly enrolled and trained in the many magic schools on the continent – the best attended the Imperial Academy – and then served in the army or became researchers, engineers, scholars and whatnot. The strongest could aspire to become heroes by spreading their might and achievements. It they did it well they ended up with more glory, money, love pretenders and songs about them than they could ever know what to do with.

I'd personally be very interested by the fame and songs, but there's only so much one can hope to obtain while spending his life on an island two months away from the next chunk of land...

I'm getting sidetracked. Yes, I'm supposed to be angry right now. And I am !

This wretch Anton had just brought a god-damn noble to Azcheron's island. And what's more, said god-damn noble thought he could buy and employ some of his mages. Worse, the rascal brought mercenaries here ! What the hell. Were they barbarians or something ? Azcheron had to admit he didn't mind casting a magic missile on an hostile visitor, but he learned his lesson. Now he'd wait a bit before doing that. Well, aside from Anton, no one ever came here, so... He'd be lying if he said he wasn't glad that they finally got to deal with a proper intruder. There were few things more frustrating than being given an island to protect when no one ever tried to invade it.

Well, that was that. The noble, Koven Sarlas, wanted to buy magicians. It also seemed he was not opposed to other procuration methods, as implied by the presence of mercenaries. Methods such as kidnapping, slavery and the likes, which Azcheron had read about in books. He was not sure if it was a proper thing to do among humans, but regardless, he was not planning on letting such a fate befall his villagers.

Honestly, I'm not really anxious about the situation. There are several very accessible ways to resolve this issue, so I'll just suggest one.

“I don't get what you're worried about. Can't we just sink his ship or something ?”

Anton looked at him for a second, as if he hadn't heard what Azcheron said. Then he replied in an offended voice.

“Eh ? NO ! Half my crew is on that ship. No way you're sinking it. Damn brat.”

“Hah, that's too bad. I could have done it right here, right now. I wanted to try a bit of water magic. Are you sure I can't cast a whirlpool or something ? A small one. Maybe the ship will endure it, who knows !”

“Nnng. Why don't you try to talk it out with him ?”

How dares he. Do I really have to explain everything ?

“Why should I ! You're the one who brought that noble here. I don't want it. Especially now that I know what he plans to do. And it's rude to bring armed friends to someone else's island, does he not know that ? Tell him to go back to the mainlands or else he'll serve as food for the... not the fish, in fact, because I was thinking about feeding Vara's dogs. That way we won't have to hunt. Ah, that would be a good decision. Shall we do it this way ?”

Aldaron interjected. “Wait, wait. We can't just dispose of that man without thinking of the consequences. He's the lord of Longhills, the closest town to us, even if it's two months away from here. How did he hear about us anyway ?” he asked Anton.

Aldaron was a tall blonde man with an intimidating frame and a stern look. When he asked things, you usually answered. Of course, sometimes Azcheron didn't, because he liked to play the role of the defiant teenager. It gave the illusion that he was a normal, regular youth. He thought his father liked it, because then he could scold his son. Probably made him feel like a proper... father ? Azcheron wasn't sure, in the end. Maybe they were all jerks, and it just ran down in the family.

The old mage frowned and casted his gaze to the side. He looked very guilty. “He just... heard ? You know, these things happen, so...”

“Indeed, things. What things ? I wonder.” The Saint was suddenly feeling inquisitive. This whole thing was fishy, there was no way that the noble had simply 'heard' of the island.

Anton sighed, as if understanding he couldn't avoid telling the truth. “It's very simple. I avoided as much as I could speaking about your clan, like you asked me to, but my crew... Well, you know. Sailors are men of rumours and taverns. Said rumours have reached some ears, and well. I told you, these things happen.”

Oooh. Even though I asked everyone to keep their mouth shut about us. They're courageous, I have to admit.

“Yes, yes, they do happen, mmmh,” Azcheron finally said as he rose from his chair.

“Eh... Why are you getting up ? You're not planning to sink the ship to punish them, are you ?”

Of course not ! I was just going to slaughter the people on board.

“Why, I would never hurt your crew, my dear Anton ! I was merely thinking about repaying their bravery with an adequate demise. They did defy me, no ? That takes courage, yes. It'd be very rude of me not to acknowledge that. With a proper beheading.”

“Come on ! Don't act like the brat that you are. Give them a break, they kept silent about your damn island for almost eight years. Why don't you take this as an opportunity to practise your, err... non-lethal diplomatic skills ? You know. Talking and negotiating ?”

Azcheron's expression became one of enlightenment for a second.

“Oh, yes, that... would be a good idea,” he replied, grinning. “Instead of crushing your opponent with mighty magic, you utterly destroy him by the power of words and theatrics. Intimidation, yes. Thank you, Anton, for you precious insight. As always, you are very wise.”

“I am sure you misunderstood me and I'm very displeased that you're able to twist my words with such ease. Look, we don't have the same definition of the word 'talking', but I trust you will avoid letting the situation degenerate ? Lord Koven is a impulsive man after all.”

“What could possibly go wrong ? Father, please pass the word to the villagers. We shall grant the man the welcome he deserves. Also, we'll need a dramatic set up. I'll find Vara and ask her to take care of that. She's the best at genuinely getting angry, haha. We can't do a half-hearted negotiation after all.”

“See ! That's exactly what I don't want you to do ! You're planning to act all mightier-than-thou in front of that guy ! I know you, brat.”

“Should I gather everyone in front of the temple then ? I assume it'll take place here,” Aldaron wondered as he was about to exit the room.

Anton seemed horrified to find that even the father deemed the venture perfectly normal.

“Huh, this damn clan. I should have expected that. You're all way too merry and eager to deal with this guy. That's what decades of isolation will do to you, I guess.”

“Well then Anton, would you be so kind as to go fetch the mongrel ? We shall meet him in the most spectacular fashion, and send him on his way back as promptly as possible. I'd like to keep my island idiot-free.”

* * *

“What I didn't expect was the identity of the current Saint. At first I pinned it on the fact that, maybe, this generation of Rahal might not be the greatest, or that they were not immune to nepotism or corruption. But I was soon proved otherwise. I arrogantly took him as my disciple and decided to teach him magic from the continent. In the end I learned from him almost as much as he learned from me.

I can only think of a handful of mages currently alive, me included, that could claim to stand above him. Yet none are as young as him.

For the Rahal Saint is a mere eight year-old boy.

His name is Azcheron.

-Anton's diary, 1st journey to the island”