Magus Reborn

129. Count Arzan

Kai’s feet took him one step after another towards the square. Even though he was still a considerable amount of distance away from the people, he could practically feel the thrum of the anticipation that reeked from everyone who awaited his presence.

A sea of faces turned towards him as he approached the stage. The cheers began as a low murmur, but as the crowd caught sight of him, it swelled into a roar.

"Lord Arzan! Lord Arzan! Lord Arzan!"

His name echoed through the air. He took in the scene around him, a sense of surrealism washing over him. Banners in vibrant colours flapped in the breeze, bearing his crest—newly designed for this day—and the people, dressed in their best, filled every corner of the square.

Killian and Francis flanked him as they made their way toward the stage, their expressions proud but steely, each step mirroring his own. As they climbed onto the raised platform, Kai’s gaze swept over the assembled nobles seated in the reserved section. Faces familiar and unfamiliar greeted him, some stern and unreadable, others offering thin smiles of politeness.

There was Lord Marcus, first son of the influential Duke Roan Raktor who supported the third Prince Thalric. Beside him, Lady Seraphine of House Valemount which was right next to Alparca Kingdom, whose family held sway over the infamous silver mines, looked on with curiosity, her fan hiding a subtle smile.

At the edge of the group stood Brinth Ashford, second son of Duke Ashford, leaning back with an air of disinterest that barely concealed his envy. His house supported the second Prince Aldrin. A few others lingered in the background, nodding when Kai’s eyes met theirs.

He also saw Darian being seated in the second row, and noticed the owner of recent troubles— child kicker Baron Radomir being seated in the fourth row wrapped up in bandages.

He took a moment to take it all in. For a moment, he felt as if he could read their thoughts— some waiting to see if he would stumble, others assessing his worth in silence.

But it was the faces beyond the nobles that captured his attention, pulling him away from the politics and formality. The commoners filled every available space, stretching out to the edge of the square, even climbing onto barrels and stalls for a better view. Children clung to their parents, waving tiny flags, and the elderly leaned on canes, eyes glistening with pride. They cheered as loudly as their lungs allowed, their voices mingling into a single jubilant chant that surged like the tide.

A young boy, perched on his father’s shoulders, waved vigorously, his cheeks flushed with excitement. A grandmother, her weathered face beaming, clasped her hands in silent prayer. A blacksmith he recognized from a brief encounter in Balen’s workshop pumped his fist in the air, shouting his name with the fervour of a man whose life had seen a change.

The realisation struck Kai then, like a sudden punch to the gut. These people—their joy, their hope—it all stemmed from what he had done.

The title of nobility had been an opportunity, a chance he had seized because it made sense. It was pragmatic, a path to more influence and security. But now, seeing the faces of those who had placed their faith in him, he understood that it had become more than that. He had changed something real, something tangible. He had made a difference.

And that, far more than the weight of any title or the authority it carried, mattered to him.

He let out a slow breath, steadying himself as he faced forward once more. Teran Hale, the kingdom’s herald, stepped forward.

"By the decree of His Majesty, King Sullivan, ruler of the Lancephil Kingdom," Teran began, unfurling a scroll that glinted with gold edges, "we recognize the valour and bravery of Arzan Kellius, who stood against the beast wave that threatened the lands of Veralt."

The crowd fell silent, hanging onto every word as Teran spoke. Kai remained still, his expression composed, though his heart thudded in his chest. He lowered himself onto one knee, the formal gesture required during such ceremonies, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"By royal decree, the lands of Verdis are granted to him, and the title of Count is bestowed upon Arzan Kellius," Teran continued, his voice steady, carrying the weight of centuries of tradition. "In recognition of his service, may he govern with wisdom and strength, and may his name be honoured in the annals of history."

Kai bowed his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as Teran’s words echoed around him. The bishop stepped forward next, draped in flowing golden robes adorned with the sigils of the goddess. He raised his staff high, the crystal at its tip catching the sunlight, casting a myriad of colours over the stage.

"May the blessings of the goddess Lumaris be upon you, Count Arzan Kellius," Bishop Anselm intoned, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate deep within Kai’s bones. "May your path be guided by her light, and may your rule bring prosperity to this land."

A weight settled into Kai’s hands— the land deed, bound in leather and sealed with the royal insignia. As he accepted it, the finality of his new role seemed to settle over him, heavy yet invigorating. The cheers from the crowd rose once more, a wave of sound that crashed over him as he rose to his feet.

For a moment, he allowed himself a brief smile, feeling the energy of the crowd seep into him, their joy and hope mingling with his own resolve. This was the beginning of a new chapter— not just for him, but for the city itself.

Kai took a deep breath, letting the energy of the crowd fuel him as he faced the sea of people below. The roar of their voices began to settle, giving way to a hushed anticipation as they waited for him to speak. He glanced at the nobles, the commoners, and everyone who had gathered to witness this moment. He could feel their eyes and hopes pressing on him, but for the first time, he welcomed it. With a confident step forward, he raised his hand, and the square fell into silence.

He began with a formal tone, addressing the figures of power who looked on with keen interest. "I want to extend my deepest gratitude to His Majesty, King Sullivan, and to the kingdom that has entrusted me with this great honour." Kai’s voice was steady, each word deliberate. "To be named a Count is no small responsibility, and I pledge my unwavering loyalty to the crown and the kingdom. I will continue to serve with the same dedication that has brought us to this day."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment before shifting his gaze to the crowd of commoners. Faces young and old looked back at him, eyes filled with hope and admiration. The warmth in their expressions struck a chord within him, and he allowed a softer smile to cross his face.

"When I first took on my duties as lord of Veralt, this city was in troubled times. You all know it well— uncertainties and dangers loomed over us. Yet, through perseverance and unity, we have come far. Together, we faced challenges and overcame them. We rebuilt, we grew, and when the beast wave came, we did not falter. We stood our ground, and together, we prevailed."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd, some nodding, others clapping in appreciation. Kai’s expression grew more sincere as he continued, his voice carrying the conviction that had guided him through those difficult times.

"But I did not do this alone. Many of you have played a role in our progress. It is time I recognize the efforts of those who stood beside me through it all. I have some announcements that I couldn’t make before, but now is the time to honour those who deserve it."

He turned to his left, where Francis stood, looking both proud and a bit anxious. "First of all, I want to acknowledge Francis, who has served as an administrator with unwavering dedication. He has managed the affairs of this city with diligence, ensuring that our recovery and growth were steady and strong." Kai allowed a smile as he glanced at his who-was-now a friend. "Your work behind the scenes, Francis, has been invaluable. Without you, many of our achievements would not have been possible."

Kai reached into his coat and produced a rolled-up document, the seal of Veralt stamped on its surface. He held it out with both hands, and Francis stepped forward to accept it, his hands trembling. "This is the deed to a house by the river, one that will be renovated according to your preferences. A small token of gratitude for everything you’ve done."

Francis’s lips quivered as he took the deed, a rare shine of tears gathering in his eyes. He bowed deeply, his voice thick with emotion as he spoke. "Thank you, Lord Arzan. I... I will continue to serve Veralt... and now Veridis with all my heart."

Kai nodded warmly, giving Francis a pat on the back as the crowd applauded, many of the commoners cheering the familiar face who had often met with them directly.

Then, Kai’s gaze shifted, scanning the ranks of guards and Enforcers who stood in formation at the edge of the square. He cleared his throat, turning his attention to them. "Next, I want to recognize those who put their lives on the line— our city guards! They have fought to protect us, to keep the peace, and they were crucial during the darkest days of the beast wave. Their bravery deserves recognition."

By the time he reached the last Enforcer, the atmosphere in the square was electrifying. Kai took a moment, his eyes meeting each of the newly minted knights before he spoke again, his voice resonating with a finality. "You have earned this. Stand proudly, for you are now the Knights of Veralt. Let no one question your dedication to our city."

The applause and cheers that followed were deafening. Nobles exchanged glances, some approving, others wary of this unconventional move. But the commoners, those who had lived under the protection of these men and women, cheered the loudest. It was a moment that made Kai realise how much he had changed things. It wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about giving people a reason to believe in the future.

With the formalities completed, Kai gave a nod to Killian, signalling the next part of the ceremony. Killian stepped forward and raised his blade high, a symbol of unity and strength. "Knights of Veralt, with me!" he bellowed, his voice carrying through the square. The newly knighted Enforcers snapped into formation behind him, their new swords gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The parade began with a precise march, Killian leading the knights as they made their way down the main street, followed closely by the city guards. The crowd parted like waves as the procession passed. Cheers and applause accompanied them as they moved forward.

Kai let them walk in the front and climbed into a carriage that was arranged with an open roof.

As he stood at its front, the driver urged the horses forward, and the carriage began to roll slowly through the streets behind the marching knights. From this vantage point, Kai could see the city as it had become.

The air was cool, carrying the scent of autumn leaves and the distant smoke from street vendors’ fires. Kai took it all in, lifting a hand in greeting to the people who called his name, waving back with wide grins. He could feel their respect, their gratitude, and it settled within him with a warmth that reached deeper than any title could.

As the procession moved through the city, the cheers never faded.

***

Rubert moved through the dimly lit corridors of Lucian’s castle, his footsteps barely making a sound against the cold stone floors. His sharp eyes darted between the servants passing by, but today, he noticed a change. The usual bustling pace was absent, replaced by hurried, furtive movements. Maids clutched their cleaning clothes tightly, avoiding his gaze. Footmen whispered to each other, casting nervous glances toward the far end of the corridor, where the heavy oak doors loomed.

There was a tension in the air, thick enough to choke on. The butler, Rubert, felt a knot form in his chest, but he kept moving, his face carefully neutral. He had served Lucian for years, long enough to know that some things were better left unseen. But he also knew his duty, and so, when the muffled sounds of agony reached his ears, he paused just before the door.

He hesitated, the screams now distinct, filled with a raw desperation that made his stomach turn. His hand hovered over the brass handle, his body urging him to turn away, to leave the horrors behind the door to the darkness. But Rubert knew he had no choice.

With a weary sigh, he steeled himself, gripping the handle with a gloved hand, and pushed the door open.

The scene inside hit him like a physical blow. Blood stained the walls and floor, pooling around fragments of flesh and shattered bones. The stench of iron and charred flesh filled the air, making his stomach roil.

His mouth went dry, and for a moment, Rubert thought he might be sick. He swallowed hard, forcing down the bile rising in his throat.

In the centre of the carnage stood Lucian, his dark cloak stained with crimson splatters.

He held a flaming sword, its edge still glowing a fierce, unnatural orange. In front of him lay a scorched, lifeless body, mangled beyond recognition. Deep cut marks crisscrossed the remains, and the skin had blackened from the intense heat. Smoke still rose faintly from the corpse, curling through the air in ghostly tendrils.

Rubert swallowed again, his voice betraying only the slightest tremor as he announced, "My lord, I am here."

Lucian turned slowly, the flames of his sword extinguishing with a hiss, leaving only a faint trail of smoke. He dabbed at his blood-smeared face with a handkerchief, the casual gesture at odds with the brutal scene. His eyes, cold and sharp, settled on the butler.

"Send me another," Lucian said, his voice calm, as if he had merely finished a sparring match. "One that might last a few seconds longer than this one."

Rubert hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "My lord, this was already the third... today. The staff— many have submitted their resignations, unwilling to serve under these conditions."

Lucian’s expression barely changed, a shadow of irritation flickering in his eyes. He folded the handkerchief neatly, tucking it back into his coat pocket. "Then pick one of them for me. If they wish to leave, I shall grant them their release... a chance to escape their life."

He paused, then added with a hint of amusement in his voice, "Or, if you’re reluctant to choose, Rubert, perhaps you’d like to step forward yourself? Surely, you can still move half as well as these younger ones."

Rubert froze, feeling the blood drain from his face. Words tangled in his throat as he stared at Lucian, but the lord’s cold smile held no hint of mercy. Finally, the butler let out a long, shuddering breath and lowered his gaze, forcing himself to remain composed.

Instead of responding directly to the threat, he cleared his throat and spoke of what he had learned, hoping to distract Lucian. "A report has arrived, my lord. Lord Arzan’s ceremony... It took place today."

At the mention of his brother, Lucian’s eyes narrowed, and a surge of mana whooshed through the room, making the air grow heavy with tension. A dark vein popped on his neck.

The butler flinched, feeling the pressure like a weight on his chest, but pressed on when Lucian’s voice came, sharper now. "Continue."

Rubert swallowed again, gathering the words. "He has been granted the city of Verdis and its surrounding territory. The title of Count was bestowed upon him... by the king himself."

Lucian’s expression shifted, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips. "Interesting. My little brother has grown wings, it seems."

"Is there more?" Lucian asked, his tone still laced with a dangerous edge.

"Yes, my lord. A letter from Queen Regina arrived as well," Rubert replied, producing the sealed missive from inside his coat. He held it out, careful to keep his hands steady as he offered it to Lucian.

Lucian took the letter, his expression turning from curiosity to something more intense. He broke the seal with a flick of his thumb and unfolded the paper. As his eyes scanned the contents, a slow smile spread across his face, one that chilled Rubert to his core.

After a moment, Lucian let out a soft, almost contented laugh, a sound that seemed wrong amidst the blood and death. "After all these months, it seems fortune finally favours me." He looked back at the butler, the smile still lingering. "Yes... something good is coming my way."

Rubert kept his head bowed, his mind racing. He didn’t know what the letter contained, but he knew better than to ask. He simply hoped that whatever plans Lucian was they would not lead to another scene like the one before him.