Ep 197. Warmonger. (4)
“…”
The smell of burnt goods continued to prick at Patrick’s senses.
Coal-like woods and bricks crunched beneath his feet. He could swear some of them were bones, but with everything charred black, he could hardly tell the difference.
With his expression twisting into a frown, the mage looked to his friend – who seemed likewise revolted by the sight, with one arm placed over her nose and mouth.
“Are you sure we’re at the right place?”
“…Yeah. I’ve been to Kavir before. We’re at the right place.”
“…”
According to Iris’ memory, Kavir had never been a particularly lively town; situated in the middle of a vast desert, the city had previously seemed like it’d been abandoned to rot. Hardly any activity went by as the entire town lived off of the supplies that were provided by Asuria’s capital, just barely enough to keep things afloat.
But right now, what little livelihood Kavir previously had seemed to have vanished in flames.
Walking behind the two enforcers through the razed streets, Serenis continued to sniff the air, her eyes darting from corner to corner to look for its source.
‘…I can hardly smell anything besides. What is this fiery scent? It doesn’t seem natural…’
Such a large fire couldn’t possibly have been natural – but as far as Serenis could tell, it didn’t seem to have been induced from magic, either. While the dragonlord continued to expand her senses in search of any residual, fire-aspected mana, there was hardly anything of note.
The surrounding mana seemed devoid of life. Much like the array of razed buildings and corpses that filled her vision.
“…I must say, this is far worse than what I expected.”
Hearing his sibling, Patrick let out an exasperated sigh.
“I agree, but…I guess we can’t be too surprised. Considering how much elves hate Asuria…”
“? They do?”
Serenis turned to her brother with a puzzled expression. The surrounding climate seemed unsuitable for elves, yes – but Patrick’s tone suggested a far more serious reason.
Without even turning to face his sibling, Patrick made his reply as he continued to walk, scanning the streets for any signs of life.
“Oh, you don’t know, do you? Elves aren’t considered ‘people’ under Asurian law.”
“…? What do you mean, not considered people?”
“…Basically…even if someone were to murder an elf in broad daylight, there aren’t any repercussions in Asuria.”
“…”
Then, Patrick briefly halted his steps.
His piercing gaze fell upon what seemed to be a charred chain at his feet. It seemed that one end had torn out of a crumbled wall.
As he bent down to gently yank at it, the chain’s links rattled in his grasp, leading to a nearby rubble – and finally to a stilled, blackened hand that seemed to be clawing out in desperation. The rest of the body was buried beneath the rubble, outside of their view.
Grimacing, Patrick let go of the chain, this time turning his head to face Serenis with a bitter look.
“Asuria has a very active slave market – and elves comprise a significant portion of it. Most being descendants of Caldonian refugees who were captured before making it back to Karia.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“…Deity or not, that seems ample reason for elves to declare war.”
As Serenis considered the implications of her brother’s words, she found it difficult to believe that war HADN’T broken out until now – if the same had happened to her own kin, she would’ve stormed whatever nation it was immediately. A deity’s involvement didn’t even seem necessary.
However, Iris shot a curt glance from the corners of her eyes towards Serenis, clearing up the true implications of Kavir’s evident destruction.
“Unfortunately, what you’re seeing here is definitely Letherien’s doing. If Karia’s elves had declared war on their own, their first priority would’ve been saving the captured elves…not destroying the place whole like this.”
This time, Iris halted her steps as her eyes narrowed on a clump of black amidst the sands.
She briefly leaned forward to brush her fingertip against the blackened patch, coating it with a familiar black powder. It was a miniscule remnant of the amount that had caused the explosive inferno that swallowed Kavir – but it was all the proof the enforcer needed.
Following suit, she then held it out towards both Serenis and Patrick.
“This alone is proof enough of Letherien’s involvement. Look.”
As the two stepped closer, Patrick’s expression twisted even further. He then pinched his own nose, taking a step back to distance himself from the black powder at his friend’s fingertip.
“Eugh, is that what we’re smelling everywhere? What the hell is that?”
“Firepowder.”
“…Firepowder? Isn’t that the stuff that goes inside firearms?”
Sighing, Iris raised her gaze, looking over the burnt town once more.
“That’s right – and it can be used on its own as well, since it produces explosive amounts of fire when alit. A couple barrels, and you could easily burn down entire cities.”
“Huh. I’ve never actually seen the raw powder…weren’t those expensive though?”
“Extremely.”
“…”
“Using large amounts just to start a large fire would be absurdly inefficient…unless you just had an infinite supply. And there’s only one individual in this world that does.”
As she listened to Iris, Serenis briefly closed her eyes with a pained expression.
The lack of residual mana in the air was starting to make sense. If the fire hadn’t been birthed from a spell, then it was only natural that she wouldn’t detect any mana in the air.
But for that reason, she could vividly imagine what the situation must’ve been like.
Any spell fuelled by magic dissipates upon exhausting its contained mana – fires, metals, winds and ice, it didn’t matter what element the spell belonged to. Once mana would deplete, spells disappear with little to trace. As long as one could survive through the spell’s initial duration, they could then manage to escape the city unharmed.
Unfortunately, fires induced through other means were not bound by their mana amounts.
The inferno that swallowed Kavir was not bound by anything but things to burn. And it clearly hadn’t stopped until every corner of the town had been razed to ashes.
Such fires would leave little room for escape. Unless the individual could somehow navigate their way through the burning streets of Kavir, they would practically have been trapped inside, with nowhere else to run.
As Patrick grimaced at the morbid thought of being trapped in a storm of fire, he still managed to croak out a small protest to Iris.
“Still…there could be a survivor that fell unconscious or something, right? Beneath the rubble or something?”
Before Iris could answer her friend, the dragonlord dutifully took a step forward – and would soon answer in the enforcer’s stead.
“I would doubt that, Patrick.”
“Huh? WHy?”
“…”
Instead of a verbal answer, Serenis roughly grabbed Patrick by his hair.
She then abruptly yanked his head towards her to pull him sideways – and in that painful moment, Patrick felt something hot and bright blitzing past where he’d been standing to incinerate where he’d been standing. The spot began to release heaps of smoke, radiating from the heated sands beneath.
Eyes widened in shock, Patrick looked to the source of the heat blast, together with Serenis.
An individual stood alone atop a nearby rampart, equipped with an enormous hand cannon that was emitting heaps of smoke from its muzzle. Their black, tattered cloak covered nearly every inch of their body, with black bandages covering the rest; even their facial features were hidden beneath a black veil, making Patrick question whether they could even see properly.
But despite their hidden features, both Serenis and Patrick could at least discern the sharpness of their ear tips: an unmistakable sign of one’s elven heritage.
Soon, the figure slightly tilted his head. The voice that followed was husky, almost broken, as if the individual was suffering from some mortal disease.
“A surprisingly quick reaction. I see Denon’s sending better soldiers now…”
“…”
Serenis had no knowledge to answer that remark. No reason to answer that remark.
Instead, she spared one last glance towards Patrick.
“…It seems there already have been efforts to find survivors.”
None of which had succeeded.
Then, the dragonlord wordlessly took a step towards the elven individual.
It certainly wasn’t the deity of creation: if they were, Serenis should’ve long detected their divinity. Unfortunately, this individual didn’t even so much as carry noticeable mana, much less any hints of divinity.
And they weren’t a survivor of Kavir’s inferno, either: had that been the case, they would’ve been seeking help and shelter, not trying to kill Patrick who was just walking by.
But whatever reason there was for the cloaked figure’s decision to remain in Kavir…
‘…As long as they can provide us with a lead as to where to find Letherien, then…’
The flight would’ve been well-worth it.