“A proper villain has to be as evil as he can. That is the main requirement. From here on, the vocation separates in two paths. First is the smart villain category. The villain can't be seen committing evil acts, he must wander in the shadows and always be two steps ahead of the hero. Preferably,we are looking for a dark mage planning to orchestrate an ancient summoning by gathering obscure artefacts, or a treacherous paladin hiding amidst the heroes, but we also accept errant sadists indulging in murder and torture as long as they stay anonymous and undetected.

Next is the dumb villain category. This path is open to every novice villain. We welcome angry immature princes, arrogant conceited nobles, dark mages planning ancient summonings while announcing it to the hero, or treacherous allies wearing an obviously nefarious expression, and things of the sort. We will do our utmost to turn any dumb villain into a proper chess-master, but we decline all responsibility in the event of a lack of talent or a surplus of angry stupidity.

-Terms of service from an offer of employment by an anonymous dark fortress master”

* * *

Azcheron

Haaaah. What's with this stupid lord ? I can't believe it. I've been outsmarted. No, more like, out-dumbed ? Is this a thing ?

Azcheron managed to put in place a very elaborate and theatrical way of intimidating Koven, but of course the lord had to act like your run-of-the-mill idiot evil aristocrat.

Kidnapping ! That's unfashionable. Whatever, I don't even care anymore.

He started walking toward the beach because he still had to stop this scoundrel from leaving the island with a kid under his arm. Everyone was following Azcheron and they all walked slowly, to appear more menacing. He was sure they looked very cool at the moment, but his opponents couldn't really give their opinion, seeing as they were running away from him like mad dogs, as fast as they could. Usually Azcheron would put on a furious expression because he wasn't supposed to be amused by that kind of incident, but here he did't even have to fake it.

He was seriously pissed.

So much effort for nothing. He was very proud of his thing. He even got to stop Vara from ripping the guts out of everyone, and he was sure that it made him look composed and confident.

Quickly enough Azcheron and the other villagers arrived at the beach and spotted the running culprits in the distance.

Ugh, such a pain, and they are fast. They probably intend to use the child as a hostage or something. I want to avoid them going on the ship because then I'd have to sink it and Anton will be displeased. So instead I guess I'll just destroy the roaming boats.

Azcheron lifted his palm up in the air and aimed for the boats, while gathering mana around his hand and his arm. He defined speed and trajectory, and released the mana. Several volleys of magic missiles were thrown at high speed toward the other side of the beach. This kind of magical bombardment was mainly used by battle-mages in wars and sieges, according to Anton. Azcheron felt it might have been overkill, but the boats were small and far away, so he didn't want to risk missing.

After a few seconds, he heard crushing sounds, signalling him that his spell destroyed the wooden boats. There was no explosion or anything of the sort, because pure mana couldn't cause that. It was just plain destructive power without any side effect. He liked it, it was clean and precise, at least.

The noble and the mercenaries finally realized that Azcheron had just cut off their only means of escape. They started looking around, not really knowing what to do. He had to refrain from laughing because he needed to maintain a serious and proper demeanour, and he tried to frown as hard as he could, as he closed on the group.

They all looked very scared. As expected, the damn lord was holding a dagger against the child's neck. Did he really think he could get away with that ? Azcheron didn't understand. Couldn't he just stab himself with the dagger ? It would spar him the many sufferings the Saint was about to inflict him.

I think I'll act imperious one last time, for the sake of it.

It was a very pleasant feeling. Azcheron approached them as much as he could without triggering any hostile reaction from them. They took stances and everything, so he guessed they were ready to struggle until death.

Hmm. Let's do it this way then.

He infused mana in his voice to make it sound more imposing. It was the trick Vara and him loved to use when they had to do proclamations and announcements. It could be said it was a type of sound magic.

“HEAR ME OUT, IMBECILES !”

The mercenaries tensed up. Some were covering their ears. Because what Azcheron was doing could make people go deaf. Their ears must have been ringing like hell. Of course he was doing everything he could to look scary, and fear worked better with pain.

I guess I'll go with the 'holier-than-thou' path this time, instead of my personal favourite, the 'mightier-than-thou'.

“You came to our land and disregarded our pride. You tried to buy our services and threatened us when confronted with refusal. You were given a chance to go away with your body untouched and your mind unscarred, yet you spat on it !”

Yes, and it was true after all. They were idiots for refusing the Saint's generous offer. And he'd give them one last generous offer. He was such a generous person.

“There shall be no salvation for dead men like you ! Here is your last choice ! Release the child and surrender immediately, and you'll be granted a quick death. Struggle, run, or refuse to comply in any way, and a painful, mind-shattering fate shall befall you. Decide NOW !”

It was the 'die or die' kind of thing. They had to realize that it was the only possible conclusion, and the illusion of choice that he gave them was only here for his personal enjoyment.

No one answered. Azcheron was wondering if he had scared them too much. He'd have to give them the painful death at this rate. It should be made clear now, Azcheron didn't enjoy making people suffer. He was not a villain ! Aside from Koven, he didn't have anything in particular against them, and he had no intent on giving them that mind-shattering fate he spoke of. He didn't even know what that would be. The only one who would end up with knees and elbows and whatnot bent the wrong way would be Koven. These poor mercenaries had just been dragged in hell for some dumb reason. But they had to be punished anyway, so he wanted to grant them a painless death, by beheading or something. The villagers behind Azcheron on the other hand, didn't look like they had any issue with torturing these guys.

Azcheron would wait a little more. He hoped they would do something smart like surrendering and releasing the hostage.

Then indeed, one of them did something. Not what he wanted though. God-damn idiot. He fired his crossbow at the Rahal group. Azcheron stopped the bolt with magic before it could pierce the head of a teen behind him.

Ugh, guess we'll have to do it that way.

Before anything else, he used mana to promptly cool down the blood and water in Koven's hand and freeze it. It was the hand that was holding the dagger against the child, and he didn't want that kind of thing to happen. He was glad he had done that first, because without waiting for Azcheron's signal, Aldaron, Vara and a few other eagerly jumped in and started killing and dismembering everyone.

Azcheron didn't really need to do anything at this point. Vara was especially zealous in her slaughtering of the mercenaries. He couldn't understand why she was aiming her wind blades at their guts and crotch, but whatever. He threw a few magic missiles for good measure when he thought a mercenary could do something dangerous, like, managing to swing his sword before his arm got unattached. He noticed that some limbless people were being left alive, for more atrocious purposes once the battle would end.

Soon enough, Azcheron had a bloody mess on his beach. He glared at Anton, trying to make him understand that he was responsible for this catastrophe.

I can't have red sand on my island. It looks evil. This is the kind of thing that makes dark castles and devilish lairs... well, dark and devilish. You know, red bloody ground, burnt blackened bricks, and bones everywhere. He did not find that these sorts of environment were the most comfy.

Then the noise started. Said noise would be screams and sounds of bodies getting mutilated. Azcheron turned around and avoided looking because he found it distasteful. He just had time to catch a glimpse of Koven, who, surprisingly, had survived the whole ordeal. He didn't have to watch to know what was being done to him. The sounds of crushing and tearing and slicing and whatnot, were more than explicit enough. The mother of the hostage child must have been very very angry with the perpetrator. Better her than Azcheron as the executioner. Even if he had loose morals, he had a small sense of justice and some work ethics. He'd let people who wanted revenge, take revenge.

In any case, he walked toward Anton, who, like him, didn't exactly want to bear witness to the aftermath of the fight.

Azcheron was planning to scold him and laugh about this strange episode, but now he was not really feeling like joking around anymore. He realized that the situation could have taken a turn for the worst. For instance, he could have failed to protect the child, or Koven could have decided to cut the kid's throat as soon as he caught him, had he been fuelled by anger and fury.

It was not a very careful way to take care of this issue. Anton's words came back to hit him. The old bastard had already expected Azcheron and Koven to act like that. He even warned the Saint.

I'm a crappy friend. I have to admit, he really is wise.

Or maybe it didn't take a genius to figure that the Saint and lord Koven would not become the best friends ever.

At least now Azcheron understood something. He really was unfit for responsibilities and the like. This... could be the pretext he needed. He'd have to consult with the others once they were done spilling even more blood on his beach.

For now, he'd go talk to Anton. He was about to open his mouth, but Anton called out to him before.

“Azcheron.” He wore a sad look. Azcheron let him carry on. “I'm sorry. I should have been able to prevent that. I endangered the village by failing to stop this man from coming here.”

Heh. He really is a great friend.

Normally Azcheron would let him drown in his guilt and everything, because it would amuse him, but right now he did not feel like being a jerk. He was acting like a rascal on a regular enough basis anyway.

“It is not you fault, Anton. I have only my own carelessness to blame. I have to admit that I underestimated this man. Yet I thought I knew all about the world and the men and the cruelty, the stupidity and whatnot. In the end, I was not any less conceited than this man.”

Anton stared at him with a complicated expression. He must have been surprised and relieved at the same time, to hear from Azcheron such a thing.

But it was the truth. This would serve as a good lesson. Azcheron might have been strong and smart, but what was the point if he couldn't deal with dumb and weak people ? He glanced sideway to see his father and a few other approaching. He waited for everyone to arrive, then spoke.

“Father, Anton. I have decided on something.”

Aldaron and the old man already probably had an idea about what he was going to say, because they didn't look surprised or anything. He carried on.

“As of today, I deem myself no longer fit the be the Rahal Saint. I would like to vacate the position, though I know I can't simply do that.”

The others seemed puzzled, but they kept silent nonetheless. Azcheron knew this was a sudden decision, but he didn't think he really wanted to stay here all his life.

“It seems the Rahal Clan is starting to suffer from being secluded from the world. I assume you understand where this is going.”

Anton looked at Aldaron, who in turn nodded.

“Speak your mind for all to hear, Azcheron.”

“I will leave the island. This is partly me sanctioning myself, partly me being selfish.”

“What do you plan to do ?”

“See the continent, for a start. I may have known the world through books and Anton and mother's stories, but I ended up underestimating it. I will travel the land and meet its people. I do not know when I will return. In any case, the Rahal Clan needs to acknowledge the world as it is, and the world will in exchange learn about us.”

No one seemed to be against the proposition. Besides, everyone was aware that Azcheron had always been very curious about the world, and that he had always wanted to journey across the world. He had read too many legends and epics to just stand still, and if there was an aspect of him that he himself would deem childish, that would be the whole adventuring thing. It was a desire that had been creeping up for eight years, after all.

This mess with Koven was the pretext they needed for it to happen. The others looked like they understood. And the clan could benefit from his experiences. Still, Aldaron voiced a concern.

“What about the Rahal Saint's position ?”

“I already have a suggestion.” Azcheron glanced at the twelve year-old black haired girl. She hesitantly walked toward him. “Mirna. You are the next Saint.”

“Are you sure about it ? She's still young,” Vara inquired.

“As her mother, you should know of her might. She will have no trouble. I do believe, in fact, that she could reach the previous Saint's level.”

And if Azcheron said that, it was no small thing. The previous Saint was his mother. She was really powerful as a mage, second only to Azcheron because he more or less took – relieved her from, in fact – the post when he was a child. If there was anyone in the clan who could catch up to her, that would be Mirna.

“Also, remember that I was younger than that when I got the post. And she took part in today's events. She won't make the same mistakes as I did.”

Vara and Mirna gave their silent agreement. They seemed to understand that Azcheron wouldn't budge.

But everyone here knew that he couldn't just relinquish his status, as per the traditions of the clan. Mirna would merely be acting as the head in his stead while Azcheron would still be the true representative of the Rahal during his travels. As long as the Saint was the strongest Rahal, he had to remain the Saint. Only when he died or was surpassed, he would be striped from the rank. It was a considerably impractical rule, but it was based on the assumption that the Saint always stayed on the island to protect it.

From what, in the end, nobody knew. It had been so long that the Rahal's isolation had erased any trace of their past.

“If there's no other objection, then ?” Since no one answered, Azcheron turned to Anton. “When were you planning to return ?”

“Since you did not destroy the ships, we're good as soon as the rowing boats are repaired. I take it you'll be accompanying me.”

“Indeed. We'll depart in a few weeks, so I'll have time to wrap up the affairs of the clan. And think up something regarding the consequences of Koven's death.”

They walked back to the village while they kept talking. The sky had started to darken, as it was already the end of the afternoon. They didn't know if they would have the usual feast tonight.

What they knew was that Azcheron would soon leave the island he had known all his life.

Ah, they would have to clean the beach before that.