“Since the youngest age, the Rahal children are taught magic and are quickly learning to incorporate it in their everyday life. I saw them using magic to knit clothes, stir pots and wash themselves. Hell, they'd clip their nails with it, even. What a pool of mana they must have. And there is no exception, apart from the very few mainlanders who settled in the village decades ago. The Rahal bloodline must be blessed be the gods or something. Should their ancestors turn out to be greats wizards from legends of old, it wouldn't surprise me. I fear for the unknowing and foolish visitor who'd dare to provoke their wrath.

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

* * *

Tarfus

Great. So great.

This was the god-damn worst day of his life. And, Tarfus could guess easily from here, it'd be the last.

What's with these psychotic wizards ? What's with this crappy nobleman ?

He was supposed to enjoy a few days of vacation on some nice island with the other mercenaries, and now he was about to get turned into some hot fuming pile of burnt flesh. If he was lucky. They looked like they wouldn't give them a quick death, no. And by quick death, he meant slow death. They probably meant to give them a very very very slow death. But even a slow death seemed quick compared to a very very very slow death.

All things considered, I think being burnt alive is more pleasant than whatever these clansmen intend to do to us. This child over here, she looks like she'd enjoy dismembering people. And this damn scary woman there, I can easily guess what she's planning to do with my crotch. I don't think you want to know.

He was seriously angry with fate, right now. It felt like a greater power or something had taken a dump on him.

I guess if I was the protagonist of a story, now would be the beginning of the book, where I'm faced with an absurdly depressing situation. Then I'd say “here's what happened” and the narration would come back to a few hours before to tell my adventures.

But it didn't really look like he was the hero of a book. More like, he was one of these cannon-fodder enemies the hero would encounter during his journey, to serve as character development or plot device.

What the heck. Is that what I am, a plot device ?

Well, since he was surely about to get killed in a horrible fashion, he'd get to see his life flash before his eyes, right ? So, he might as well lie to himself and act like a protagonist before he died. He could at least indulge in this. A dead man's last wish.

So, here's what happened.

* * *

Tarfus stretched his back as they walked on the light-coloured sand. He felt proud of himself. He knew he had made a good decision when he took that job, but now he really understood how nice of an opportunity this was.

A two month trip on sea to an unknown island with a tribe of mages, or so the rumours said, and a two month return trip. It didn't seem too dangerous except for the pirates, and in the end they didn't encounter any. And the pay was high.

They – the others mercenaries, and their employer lord Koven – had to wait for a bit on their ship while the old mage went first and greeted the islanders. But at this point, after two months on sea, he didn't mind waiting some more if that meant he could take it easy and enjoy the island.

Chances are we'll get to stay a few days, perhaps weeks, while the lord is busy striking whatever deal with these island mages.

They were about to enter the village, when he noticed the villagers coming to welcome us. They seemed nice... Err... Eh ?

Maybe 'welcomed' was a poor choice of word ? They seemed... moody ? Wary ? No, he knew what those glaring eyes meant. The kind of eyes he saw a lot on the battlefield. These villagers were clearly hostile. There was a mix of fear, anger and disdain. Hatred, even.

What the hell ? Don't look at me like I'm some dung stuck on your boot. Did we do something wrong ? No, we just arrived and the old guy was supposed to smooth things with them. Guess they just don't like outsiders. I kinda understand now why the noble brought us, eh.

There he was, the mage they came with. Anton or whatever his name was. He was talking with the noble. Something to do with meeting the chief of the village, probably. Hopefully, it'd ease the villagers. Things were looking tense, right now.

As they walked through the village with their very friendly escort, Tarfus noticed that whoever wasn't busy glaring at them was moving around to their every day life. He saw children playing with magic as if it was the simplest thing in the world. Children ! Tarfus did't know much about magic, he never had the opportunity to learn in fact, but he knew you didn't simply play with magic the same way kids played with sticks and stuff. It seemed lord Koven noticed too, because soon he started asking questions to Anton.

“So, did you mention my offer of employment ?”

“Yes...” The scholar made a complicated face.

“And ?” Impatience could be heard in his voice. “Were they interested ? Though I only want the strongest mages.”

Anton didn't answer. Tarfus could see the dread on his face, but he couldn't understand what it was all about. The mage wasn't afraid of Koven or something like that. The old guy was supposed to be an important mage from the capital. No, this was something else, but what ?

“I believe you'd better ask the Saint.”

“The Saint ? How arrogant can they get ? Is that their sect leader ?” As Koven kept asking questions he definitely shouldn’t ask, the villagers, who could hear everything, became more and more hostile.

Oh, lord, good lord, it might not be a good idea to spit on these islanders' culture in front of them ? Aren't they supposed to be mages ? They look fairly displeased with you.

Of course he didn't say it out loud. It wasn't his place to do so. He wasn't a coward ! But the man was his employer.

“He is the head of the clan, and the strongest,” Anton finally replied.

Koven nodded with a confident smirk, as if knowing that was enough, as if he now knew who was in charge, and who he had to negotiate with. He must have been really be confident in his rhetoric skills. Couldn't he see that no one here would ever accept to leave their village to come with him ?

Whatever, let the man dream, eh ?

Soon enough, they arrived in what looked like the main plaza. They were standing in front of some stairs leading to a shrine or a temple of some sort. It was a small building, really, the only peculiar thing was the row of columns supporting the stone roof. It was something Tarfus had seen in some very old buildings on the continent. Tarfus looked at the top of the stairs. Standing on it, by order of importance he'd say, some villagers wearing beautiful gowns were waiting and looking at the mercenaries in the same unfriendly fashion.

A blonde man with a stern and prideful expression was on the higher steps, staring at them. If the man was supposed to be a mage, Tarfus' first guess would be that he was a warrior, with his tall and fit frame and his muscles showing at some points though the gown. And those eyes that usually belonged to someone facing his mortal enemy.

What are we, beasts ? Well, I guess I'd be wary too if someone came to my home with soldiers.

On the higher step and the opposite side, there was a girl, maybe twelve of age, with shoulder length raven hair. She was wearing the richest gown amongst everyone. She was... an odd presence ? What was a little girl like her doing here ? Perhaps she was a priestess of some kind ? The whole set up gave a feeling of religious hierarchy, so that could be a possibility. But the way she was looking down on Koven and the mercenaries said otherwise.

The chief's daughter then ? That could be.

Then, just below her on the stairs,Tarfus could eye a beautiful woman with long black flowing hair. He assumed she was the girl's mother, seeing as they had similar hair colour. Not many people with black hair in the village, from what he had seen. Well, he'd fall for a woman like that, nine times out of ten. ...Now was the tenth time. She seemed to be, at the same time, the most prideful person in the whole village, and also the angriest person in the whole village.

Why is such a pretty woman looking at me like she's about to rip my guts out and shove them in my throat ?

While Tarfus was pondering on the overaggressiveness of the village's inhabitants, and their obviously deliberate lack of effort to hide it, the doors of the shrine were shut open. A small group of elderly persons came out and stood on the sides, waiting for something. Tarfus looked beyond them, toward the opened doors. In the darkness of the shrine, there was a figure approaching, and he could hear faint footsteps echoing.

Then, he came for all to see.

Tarfus failed to mask the shock on his face. And how could he ? He was imagining an old man or at least a rough looking guy, someone who'd have the face of a 'head of the clan'. ; instead they're met with that bizarre youth in a flashy gown. No, it wasn't just a flashy gown, it was the flashiest gown ever. The kind you'd expect a king or a prince to wear.

The boy didn't even look older than seventeen and he had long golden hair with straight bangs cut right above his eyes. His skin was fair and Tarfus didn't think he had any muscle under that shiny gown. If anything he'd say he looked like a girl or something, but he did have sharp features, boyish ones. And these cold eyes, they couldn't possibly be girl's eyes.

So that's the Saint, eh ? I guess he does fit the whole high priest or clan prince thing, in the end.

Tarfus quickly glanced around to see the others' reaction. Most of the mercenaries had a look of surprise but everyone was keeping silent. Aside from Koven. Yes, Koven, of course, made a really really bad job of hiding his surprise, then he spoke, and it became even worse.

“What the-” he frowned. “Is this a joke ?”

Tarfus glanced around again and spotted Anton. He looked resigned. Whatever dread and apprehension he had before, it was gone now and Tarfus had the feeling that Anton was looking at them like they were cattle about to be slaughtered.

As he was vainly wondering about the meaning of Anton's expression, the scary angry black haired woman yelled in an overly loud and intimidating voice.

“IMPUDENT FOOL ! You stand before the Rahal Saint, Azcheron ! Behave yourself or prepare to discard your tongue !”

Everyone tensed up a little. Perhaps it had to do with the mana infused in her voice, but she felt way too menacing. Koven had the presence of mind to hold his tongue, as if it would indeed allow him to keep it. At this moment, no one would dare to doubt the woman.

There was a short silence, and Azcheron finally spoke. In the same imperious, although calmer, voice.

“Koven Sarlas ! I am aware of your intentions. Know that you shall find no joy in your search. You are looking to employ mages from our clan for your own purposes. However there are none for you !”

Koven was now wearing a displeased look. That did not seem to be the answer he expected. Technically it wasn't an answer, seeing as Koven had not even been given the opportunity to personally ask anything. More like a greeting ? A long and unfriendly one, then.

“You have insulted our hospitality by bringing sell-swords with you. Vacate the island at your earliest convenience, which would be now, and begone. That shall be the end of our negotiations.”

Negotiations my ass. That was a one sided discussion. I doubt the lord will take it well.

And as if to echo Tarfus' thoughts, Koven answered in a voice filled with contempt.

“You insolent commoner. You think it's wise to provoke me ? Do you not see the soldiers in your village ? I came here willing to commerce with you islanders, but it was obviously a waste of my good will.” He spat on the ground and went on. “Peasants are the same whether they're in the field or on an island.”

Tarfus frowned at the mention of the soldiers.

I do not exactly want to be used as a means of intimidation. Especially when I'm the one feeling intimidated. I feel oppressed, in the physical sense, in fact. That is surely strange.

He turned his attention back to the clansmen, and he understood immediately. The menacing dark haired woman was leaking mana in a aggressive fashion. She was the reason the atmosphere felt so suffocating. The angry woman looked like she was about to move, but thankfully, Azcheron stoped her.

“It is fine, Vara. Koven Sarlas is smarter than the occasional mongrel. He wouldn't show hostility and unsheathe his weapon in the middle of a village of mages, in a thick atmosphere of concentrated mana. It would be unwise, am I not right, lord Koven ?”

Koven's eye twitched ever so slightly but he still nodded to show he agreed. His tone however was the same as before.

Can't you act a little bit more your place ? You're not in a particularly good position, not that I care about you, it's more about my own safety. We're the ones that will have to take on a damn village on mage if you mess things up.

“Yes... Fortunately for both of us, I am not that hot-headed. Very well. We'll take our leave, as I can see that no one is willing to take me on my offer,” Koven said, turning around and walking toward the beach, which they could see from here. “Come, guards, this brief stay is to be even more shortened.”

That lord was surely troublesome in his decisions. He almost got everyone killed.

The villagers didn't look like they were going to follow them. Perhaps we were not deemed worthy of a proper farewell, Tarfus joked to himself. He was still feeling tense. There was that particularly deranging thought that he couldn't shackle.

They were almost out of the village. The lord's venture had failed, but at least nothing bad happened. He really thought they would have to fight with the villagers when that mage woman almost attacked them. Damn scary. However it would be okay now, right ? Yes. They'd just leave the island. True, Tarfus was disappointed, because he had been looking forward to this.

But hey, nothing beats keeping your life after almost getting murdered by a clan of mages ! I'm glad for that, at least.

Then precisely when he was about to relax, he saw his employer doing something.

The most idiotic and stupid thing anyone could ever do in this situation. Tarfus almost bursted out laughing.

Now, he didn't laugh, because it was not funny. Oh no. Clearly not. That damn lord. Tarfus should have known. No, he knew all along.

Koven didn't seem to be the kind of man to waste money on a fruitless four months journey with twenty swords-for-hire. Especially after being treated like the everyday crook trying to buy something he can't afford.

He knew. Tarfus knew they were doomed. He could almost feel on his nape the two cold and piercing eyes widening in anger, because he was sure that he could perfectly see it from there. See this damn lord, Koven, nonchalantly snatching a lone kid who was playing with magic.

Without thinking, Tarfus started running.