Black Magus

Mayor Johann Silas.

***

“I’m serious. You’ll be the Emperor of this place one day. And I’ll be a wandering emperor. Exploring the realms while you all go about your lives. That makes you all royalty. And they'll be nobles.”

I followed Amun’s gaze past the council, seated at an elliptical table at the head of what looked and felt like a king’s courtyard, then to the residents in question. Like us, they were seated on carved seats and curved tables placed around the perimeter. Casually mingling with each other in the midst of their meals like we were.

“Which is why we’ve been educated so strenuously.” I surmised. “But, I’ve never seen nobles work so hard.”

“That’s what makes you all different.” Amun quipped. Then raised his drink along with a cheer coming from an ambiguous direction.

After placing his mug on the table, Rodin turned a curious eye to Amun just as he did the same. “Why even drink if you can’t get drunk?” He burped.

“I can appreciate the taste.” Amun shrugged in an almost strange way. Not in his usual amiableness, but in a way that made it seem like he was overjoyed. Not excited, as he’d been during Hill Base’s reconstruction. He was giddy. Seemingly from the lack of work to be done.

‘A strange one indeed.’ I turned to the young half-elf. As unbelievable as it was, he was only fifteen. Yet, his knowledge base was incomprehensibly vast and he had more followers under his wing than even I did. “Speaking of which,” I said. “The residents have agreed to have your companions immigrate here. Though.” I chortled softly. “Having five hundred nobles may prove to be a problem.”

“I can assure you that most of them will wish to join the military or the guild. Either way, we have more than enough real estate to house them.”

‘And that’s the strangest thing about you.’ I thought after taking a mental note of his words. Speaking to him was like speaking to an elder. Or a sage. Or an accomplished witch or wizard with many years- nay, decades under their belt. At times, I felt as if an old man had been stuck inside a child’s body. And his friends or followers seemed to be completely oblivious to it.

“If I may ask, where do you plan to go from here, Lord? If I understand correctly, just under two weeks remain until your deadline.”

Like me, Amun held his gaze on the boy who spoke for a long moment. But for blazingly different reasons, I was sure. By both vote and Amun’s suggestion, Caleb Goss had been appointed as my alderman at only twelve years old. Possibly because he shared many of the same qualities Amun had. He was dauntless. Shown to put his foot forward when necessary and speak when others would not. More so, he’d proven himself to be too smart for his own good years prior to Amun’s arrival. Now, his education was nearly complete, making him undoubtedly smarter than I was.

For Amun, I’m sure it was to study his visage and commit it to memory before he replied with a meek shrug. “We’ll make a detour to see the capital before climbing the mountain and crossing the desert. As for the deadline, we’ll either take our time along the way or stop somewhere to relax for a few days. Other than that.” He shrugged again. “I have no specific plans.

“After we return though.” He grinned. “We’ll essentially repeat what was done this week, only, it’ll be to form and train the guild before we travel overseas for a test deployment in Phaegrath. But enough of that.” Amun waved it all aside. “I’m interested in your story, Silas.”

I slowly chewed through my steak as I repeated the words in my head. ‘My story, huh?' Then, I realized. 'This is my chance.'

“Well.” I paused to wash my food down with some wine. “I was birthed and raised in Mirfield. I was born into a minor branch of a noble family. But never agreed with their customs. Or Epethian customs for that matter. So I was ostracized. My parents, aunts, and uncles manipulated my siblings into despising me and I was eventually disgraced. So I gathered what wealth and allies I had left and traveled here. Though.” I sighed. “It was much harder than expected. The journey itself took half a year, and some didn’t make it. We made a footprint for ourselves and all was well for a few months. Then the bandits came. And they’d return every few months to raid us for what we labored to make or take women and children if we refused to make anything. Every time it was a fight. And every time more people died. There’s now half of what we started with. I hope they can rest easy knowing their sacrifices weren’t in vain.”

“I could bring them back, you know.” Amun casually commented. "Or at least let you speak to them again.”

While I and the rest of the Council shifted uncomfortably or shared mortified stares between each other, Amun and his vassals continued eating and chatting among themselves in their usual amiable, self-centered ways. Paying attention to and even laughing at the things that interested or amused them. Only Roheisa and her knight seemed embarrassed at Amun’s behavior. Giving no sense of solace to me, however, as a painfully obvious fact came to slap me in the face at that moment.

“My Gods.” I gasped. “We’ll be living among undead one day, won’t we?”

“I mean, you’re already being protected by them.” Toril laughed.

“And undead isn’t inherently evil,” Amun said. “I mean. Most of them have an inborn hatred of all living things, but that doesn’t make them evil. No less than it makes a predator evil for following its instincts to hunt and kill prey, or any other creature following its nature. Besides.” He shrugged. “If I return their souls to them, they’ll retain the personalities you once knew.”

“And they’ll live forever?” Caleb presumed.

“Unless something kills them.” Amun nodded.

“Huh?” Rodin tilted his head. “I heard the Cole family’s undead are different. Truly immortal undead. Made entirely of darkness.”

“Depends on the circumstance of their death.” Amun shrugged. “A part of our sorcery is known as Shadow Necromancy. That’s what you’re referring to. It gives a soul the ability to rise from the Underworld, using the being's shadow as a medium to exist in the physical plane. And to complete the exchange, the physical body is sent to the Underworld. Those types of undead can only be killed in two ways. Death of the user, and the void.”

“That latter of which you alone are in possession of?” Rodin asked.

“Yes.”

“And what of the other types of the undead?” Caleb enthusiastically asked. Causing me more than a little discomfort.

“Lesser and superior undead.” Jaimess leaned in to explain. “Lesser Undead are the common skeletons, zombies, wraiths, and so on. They are often mindless. But Superior Undead have sentience and are recognized by glowing eye sockets. Draugr, mummies, the dread wrath outside, and, most famously, liches, are all Superior Undead.”

“Vampires too,” Amun added. “But regardless of the type, they all see me as a… sovereign, of sorts. So they’ll never even dream of attacking me.”

“The God of Death.” Rodin grimly grunted.

“No.” Amun quickly shook his head. “No, that’s Nergal. I’m more like a... King of the Dead.”

“I didn’t take you for the religious type,” Yaramin commented.

“I’m not.” Amun laughed. “I was just forced to learn about the darker Gods during my education.”

“I must say,” I commented. “You’ve done so much for us, yet we hardly know anything about you. Other than that you are powerful and your pool of knowledge seems to be infinite. Tell me.” I paused to glance at the curiously worried expressions of Amun’s vassals before turning my undivided attention to him. “What’s your story?”

“I was born on the thirteenth day of the eleventh month of the year 1475, to Emeric Cole and a Drow royal from Youtera named Eved.” He curtly explained.

“I- I” I stammered. ‘Well, that was easy.”

“I knew you were of the Fae. But... drow?” Yaramin asked in visible shock. “I heard they’re terrifying beings from the Darkworld. Never in all my years have I heard of one coming to the surface. Much less breeding with a human.”

“My mother lived with me and my father until my awakening and has since returned home.” Amun shrugged. “She told me children's stories about Youtera, but nothing too specific. And she was kind to us.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“None taken.” Amun waved it aside. “Anyway, I was a little sheltered until I was five when I met my Great-Grandfather. After he introduced me to elemental manipulation and my sorcery, I started my education, and Toril and Jaimess entered my service. After that, I was given a bit of freedom, I finished my education, and then I committed to training my vassals full-time. At ten, I went to Corvus Academy to train with my Great-Grandfather until I was fourteen. W-”

“Wait!” Yaramin shouted. “You completed a royal education before you were ten!?”

“I read the material on my own and completed it in about a year.” Amun casually nodded. Much to everyone’s dismay.

I had to look to Jaimess to confirm and by the Gods, it was true. “Unbelievable.” I gasped.

“Eh.” Amun shrugged. “I’m a fast reader with a photographic memory. Anyway.” He waved our confusion aside. “While I was training, I was also holding a sort of tournament to choose three artisans while Toril and the others were training the students. Once my training was complete and the students graduated, I returned home with those three and continued training until the awakening ceremony.”

“Where you received four affinity cores.” Caleb finished. “Four of them. That’s unheard of!”

“Sounds like divine intervention,” Liam commented from behind Rodin. “I can’t wait to see what class he becomes.”

Either ignoring him or not hearing him, Rodin leaned over his food to capture Amun’s attention. “Your Great-Grandfather is the Necro King? What was his training like?” He asked.

“What was he like?” I asked.

“Each night, I was given lessons in recovery magic and lesser necromancy,” Amun stated. “Come midnight, we’d go outside for combat training, wherein he’d beat me to the brink of death before I was healed. And we’d go at it again. We fought on a daily basis. And on the weekends, he had me work as the executioner for his county. Then, after a while, he had us play war games against his Necro Army.

“As for how he is.” He shrugged. “He’s an aloof old man with a warm but twisted heart.”

“Uh-huh.” I slowly nodded. Not really getting the full picture.

“Yeah.” He chuckled into his glass. “It was extremely painful.”

‘So then… where did this vast pool of knowledge come from?’ I thought. ‘As Liam said, it could only be from divine intervention. Which would also explain his power. But then again, I’ve never heard of a non-religious Cleric or Champion. So then… is his intellect a result of his elven blood? No. He’s not a dragon. Perhaps his mother taught him Fae knowledge. But… he knows of ‘science’ and ‘technology,’ not magic. So then… what?’

“Don’t think about it too hard.”

“Hmm?” Turning, I saw Toril resting his chin on his hand as he looked at me with an amused expression.

“Even if I tell you one day, I doubt you’ll believe me.” He snorted. “There was a time when we had the same faces you have now. Those were the words we were told after asking. So just pick a reason and run with it. That’s what we did.”

“I see.” I nodded. Took a sip of my glass and leaned in close to whisper. “And what reason did you run with?”

“He’s a God from outside these realms,” Toril smirked. Then leaned in as well. “Which is all the more reason to follow him if you ask me.”

“Ah.” I leaned back in understanding. “Thank you for the advice, Toril.”

“Anytime!” The young knight raised his drink with a beaming smile.

‘Speaking of following him.’ I turned to assess the room and find that, much like our table, the feast had transitioned into an inebriated period of conversation. “I suppose it’s that time.”

“What time?” Amun asked after suddenly turning.

“Time for our pledges!” Yaramin beamed, then hopped down from his seat to waddle before the table with the rest of us.

“I just… feel like we should’ve done this earlier.” Amun sheepishly rubbed his head. But otherwise remained in his seat and watched us get organized.

With an affirmative nod to the rest of us, Rodin stepped away from the group to kneel before Amun. “I’ll start.” He grunted. Then paused to infuse mana into his voice and center his gaze on the ancient man trapped in an adolescent body. Looking with a somewhat shocked expression as Rodin said. “I, Captain Dukeen Rodin, swear to remain vigilant in guarding the borders of our territory. Here and now, I declare my loyalty to Amun. Long live the Lord!”

“Long live the Lord!” The rest of us chanted. Prompting Rodin to backpedal into the crowd.

While the rest of us followed Rodin's actions, Amun’s expression didn’t seem to change a bit. The fact that he was uncomfortable with the sight was apparent, but it was also like he was seeing magic for the first time, the way he stared at us. And after we were finished, his surprise seemed to have been replaced with a curious glint of excitement.

“What was that?” He asked the moment we returned.

“A Loyalty Pledge.” Yaramin bobbed in his chair.

“With mana?”

“It’s the way they’ve been done since time immemorial,” I said. “Rather unsettlingly, and misleadingly, imbuing mana into the voice is known as a Curse Spell. To put it simply, words hold immense power. If you merge something as powerful as words with something as powerful as mana, it becomes something that behaves much like a curse. If we ever break our promises, there would be dire consequences. But maintaining our promises may lead to great benefits.”

“Ah.” Toril rocked in his seat. “So that’s how Paladins are made.”

“What kind of consequences,” Amun asked, ignoring Toril’s epiphany.

“Well, some people die. Some lose the ability to walk. Some can no longer use magic. Or their hands. The result is always different, but always severe.” Yaramin wagged his finger. “Some scholars believe it strips you of what you love the most about yourself. All I know is, there is nothing that would make me betray you. You have my word.”

“Thank you.” Amun smiled.

Giorno, however, shot up from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. “I want to redo mine!” He all but seethed at Amun. “I want to do it the right way!”

“But we just did it.” Amun groaned.

“Over a year ago.” Toril snickered under his mug.

“Besides, it wouldn’t be right to do it right now,” Amun said. “Let’s save it for when we return. Or later, at the very least.”

“If that’s your decision, I must oblige.” Giorno sat back down with a begrudging sigh. “Excuse my outburst.”

“No worries.” He shrugged. “If there’s no other business to discuss. I’m going to step out for a smoke. we’ll be leaving tomorrow around noon. That’ll place us at the capital around sundown if we take our time.”

‘If you take your time.’ I huffed in disbelief. And a bit of dismay as well. “Ah, well.” I meekly nodded. “We shall be eagerly awaiting your return. And.” I paused to give him a careful stare. “Be careful in the capital.”

“What can you tell me about it?”

“Barriers stretch over the territories, preventing anything from entering from above; not to mention segregating the classes. It’d be best to land before you reach the territories. I can tell you that you’ll see many foul and inhumane things there. But you mustn’t act on it. They have a low tolerance for troublemakers. So I highly advise you to be careful."

“I’m just going to take a look-see.” Amun rolled his eyes.

‘That’s what I fear the most.’ I sighed.

“At any rate.” Amun rose from his seat, grinning wide. “I’ve come up with a new name for this place.”

“Oh?” Caleb beamed. “Let’s hear it.”